THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


EiOKG  DC  IMf 


*  Minimtun  by  R.  r*o.-6nm,  A.R.A.,  in  A*  ponettion  of  Mr*.  Xacrtudy. 


From  a  Pkotograpk  in  the  ponessim  of  Mrs.  M 


College 


PM 


CONTENTS. 

To  W.  C.  MACEEADT,  Sonnet  by  the  Editor. 


REMINISCENCES. 


CHAPTER  I.  PACK 

1793-1808.  —  Earliest  recollections  —  Preparatory  schools  at  Kensington  and 
Birmingham — School  mutiny — Father's  theater  at  Birmingham  —  King 

—  Mrs.   Siddons  —  Mrs.  Billington  —  Lord  Nelson  at  the  theater — Visit 
to  relations  at  Dublin  —  Adventure  at  Chester  —  Entrance  at  Rugby  — 
School  life  — Dr.  Inglis  —  Fagging —  Mother's  death  —  School  theatricals 

—  The  young -Roscius — Rapid  rise  in  the  school  —  Unmerited  punishment 

—  William  Birch  —  Fight  with  a  bully  —  Dr.  "Wooll  —  Rugby  speeches  — 
More  elaborate  theatricals  —  Edmund  Kean  at  Birmingham         ...       1 

CHAPTER  H. 

1808-1811.  —  Father's  pecuniary  difficulties  —  Removal  from  Rugby  —  Fa- 
ther's theatrical  tastes  —  Holman,  Henderson,  and  Kemble  in  Hamlet- 
Anecdotes  of  Macklin —  Letter  from  William  Birch — Visit  to  London  — 
0.  P.  Riots  —  Actors  of  the  day  —  Earliest  gas  in  London  —  Father  a  pris- 
oner for  debt — Undertakes  charge  of  his  company  —  Journey  from  Chester 
to  Newcastle  —  Theatrical  season  at  Newcastle  —  Country  theater  —  Father 
lessee  of  theater  at  Birmingham  —  De"but  at  Birmingham  in  Romeo  (7th 
June,  1810)  —  Lothair  in  "  Adelgitha"  —  Norval  —  "Zanga"  —  "George 
Barn  well "  —  Practice  on  the  stage  of  the  empty  theater  —  Portrait  as  Ro- 
meo by  Dewilde  —  Catalan!  at  the  Opera  House  —  Engagement  at  New- 
castle —  Achmet  in  "  Barbarossa  "  —  Osmond  in  "  The  Castle  Spectre  "  — 
Rolla —  Holiday  at  Tynemouth,  practice  on  the  sea-shore  —  Capture  of  a 
fish  —  Performances  at  Leicester  and  Birmingham  —  Albyn  in  "  The 
Countess  of  Salisbury,"  Luke  in  "  Riches  "  — ••  Hardyknute  in  the  "  Wood 
Demon"  —  Coach  traveling  of  the  period — An  escape  from  danger  — 
Death  of  grandfather 18 

CHAPTER  III. 

1 81 1-1812.  —  First  appearance  in  "  Hamlet "  —  Criticism  on  the  part  of  Hamlet 

—  Visit  to  London  —  A  dangerous  acqaintance  —  Performing  at  Leicester 
and  Newcastle  —  Mrs.  Whitlock  —  New  parts — Acting  with  Mrs.  Siddons 
at  Newcastle  in  "  The  Gamester  "  and  "  Douglas  "  —  Her  instructions  to  a 
young  actor  —  Criticism  on  her  acting  —  Birmingham  —  Holman  —  W.  H. 
West  Betty,  the  ci-devant  young  Roscius  —  Miss   Smith  —  A   lesson    in 
judgment  on  acting  —  Acting  with  Mrs.  Jordan  at  Leicester  —  Her  acting 

—  Revival  of  "  Richard  II."  at  Newcastle  —  Anecdotes  of  G.  F-  Cooke       .    33 

A 


:654 


Ti  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

1813-1814.  —  First  appearance  as  Hnmlct  in  Glasgow  —  Further  new  parts  — 
Power  of  rapid  study  —  Sinclair  —  Mrs.  Bishop  —  Dumfries — Acting  with 
Betty — Newcastle  —  Criticism  on  Betty's  acting —  Separation  from  lather 

—  Brother  enters  the  army  as  a  volunteer  private  —  Reconciliation  with  father 

—  Comes  of  age  —  Risks  of  a  player's  life  —  Charles  Kcmhle  and  his  wife  — 
Adaptation  of  "  Marmion  "  — Barnard  Castle,  Raby,  Rokeby  —  Adaptation 
of  Scott's  "  Rokeby" — Father  builds  new  theater  at  Carlisle  —  Holiday  at 
Holy  Island  —  Escape  from  a  quicksand  —  Performance  to  an  audience  of 
three  persons  at  Berwick  on  night  of  general  illumination  —  Young  and 
Emery  —  A  wonderful  effort  of  memory  —  Miss  O'Neill's  appearance  at 
Covent  Garden  —  Remarkable  accident  at  Newcastle  —  Engagement  at 
Bath 51 

CHAPTER   V. 

1814-1815. — Description  of  Bath  in  1814  —  Appearance  in  Romeo,  etc. — 
Actors  more  sensitive  to  criticism  than  other  artists  —  Proposed  engage- 
ment with  Harris  at  Covent  Garden  declined — Performances  at  Dublin  — 
Visit  to  London  —  Comparison  of  Kean  and  Cooke  in  Richard  III.  — Mis- 
take of  "  points  "  in  acting  —  Keun  in  Richard  III.  at  Drury  Lane  —  Sup- 
per with  Kean  —  Hfs  powers  of  conversation  and  mimicry  —  Miss  O'Neill 
in  Juliet  at  Covent  Garden 65 

CHAPTER   VI. 

1815.  —  Engagement  at  Glasgow  —  At  Dublin  —  Humors  and  character  of 
the  Dublin  audiences  —  Their  peculiarities  and  attachment  to  old  favorites 

—  Bath  —  Profit  to  be  made  by  an  actor  out  of  a  bad  house  —  Importance 
of  study  —  Mcntevolc  —  Kitely  —  Pierre  —  Duke  Aranza  —  The  Twiss 
family  —  Offers  from  Drury  Lane  and  Covent  Garden  Theaters  —  Meeting 
with  brother  at  Wcymouth  —  Officers  at  Bath  —  Mrs.  Piozzi —  Difficulties 
of  the  actor's  art  —  Amateur  actors  — Performing  with  "  Romeo  Coates  " 

at  Bath  —  Leontes — Doricourt  —  Don  Felix 72 

CHAPTER   VII. 

1816.  —  Garrick  Jubilee    at  Hereford  —  Dublin  —  Farewell  performance  of 
John  Kcmble,  in  Othello,  on  the  Dublin  stage  —  Lord  Townley  —  London 
engagement  at  Covent  Garden  made  for  five  years  —  Mr.  Plunkett  in  Rich- 
ard III.  —  Performing  at  Wexford  and  Galway  —  Tour  in  North  Wales  — 
Snowdon  —  Meeting  with  brother  at  Liverpool 83 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

1816.  —  Risks  and  advantages  of  a  London  engagement  —  First  appearance  at 
Covent  Garden  as  Orestes,  16th  September,  18T6  —  Contemporary  criticism 

—  "Times"  —  "Globe"  —  Hazlitt  —  Remarks  on  personal   appearance  — 
Mcntevole  —  Othello  —  lago  —  Position  and  prospect  on  the  London  stage    89 

CHAPTER  IX. 

1816-1817.  —  Gambia  —  Miss  Stephens  —  Her  voice  and  acting  —  John  Kcm- 
ble in  Cato  —  Kean's  Sir  Edward  Mortimer  in  "  The  Iron  Chest,"  and 
Oroonoko  —  Booth's  appearance  as  Richard  III.  at  Covent  Garden  —  At- 
tempted rivalry  with  Kean  —  Kean's  policy  with  him  —  Appears  as  lago  to 
Kenn's  Othello  at  Drury  Lane  —  His  complete  discomfiture — Macready 
nrting  with  Booth  as  Valcntio  in  "  The  Conquest  of  Taranto  "  —  Booth's 
retreat  ......  .95 


CONTENTS.  vii 


CHAPTER  X. 

1817.  —  First  acquaintance  with  Richard  Lalor  Sheil — His  appearance  and 
conversation  —  "  The  Apostate  " — Macready  as  Pescara  —  Importance  of 
acting  at  rehearsal — Ludwig  Tieck's  opinion  of  Macready  —  John  Kemble's 
last  nights  —  Re-appearance  of  Mrs.  Siddons  for  his  benefit  —  Kemble's  last 
performance  of  Macbeth  —  Talma  present  —  Kemble's  powers  and  failings 
as  an  artist —  Dinner  to  Talma  at  the  Clarendon  Hotel  .  .  .  .104 

CHAPTER  XI. 

1817-1818.  — A  diplomatic  adventure  —  Second  London  season  —  Dumont  — 
Wish  to  leave  the  stage,  go  to  Oxford,  and  enter  the  Church  as  a  profession 

—  Life  at  a  boarding-house  —  Discussion  on  Wordsworth's  poetry  —  Will- 
iam   Whewell — A   strange    history  —  "Retribution" — Accident  in  the 
greenroom  —  Brother  sails   for  India  —  His   character — "Rob  Roy"  — 
Sonnet   by  Barry   Cornwall  —  Charles  Lloyd  —  Introduction    to   Charles 
Lamb  and  Talfourd  —  Sheil's  "  Balamira  "  —  The  "  Castle  of  Paluzzi  "  — 
Miss  O'Neill  in  Lady  Randolph  —  "Cymbeline" —  Close  of  the  London 
season 109 

CHAPTER  XII. 

1818-1819.  —  Keeley  —  Intercourse  with  other  actors  —  Anecdote  of  Barry  — 
Macready  acting  gratuitously  for  his  father — Visit  to  a  coal  mine  near 
Newcastle  —  London ,  season  —  Michael  Ducas  in  Lewis's  "Adelgitha" — 
Romani  in  "Proof  Presumptive  "  —  Dumont  in  "Jane  Shore"  —  "Earl 
of  Warwick"  —  Miss  Somerville  —  Sheil's  "Evadne" — Father's  difficul- 
ties renewed  —  Maturin's  "Fredolfo" —  Condemned  on  first  night — Mrs. 
Siddons's  re-appeai'ance  in  Lady  Randolph  for  Charles  Kemble's  benefit  — 
Miss  O'Neill's  last  performance  in  London  —  Edinburgh  —  Glasgow  — 
Falls  of  the  Clyde — Pedestrian  tour  in  the  Highlands  —  Professional 
study  in  a  lunatic  asylum  —  Swansea  —  Bristol 121 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

1819-1820.  —  Letters  from  brother  in  India  —  London  season  —  Favorable 
opening  —  Joseph  Surface  —  Holla  —  Mordent  —  Henry  V.  —  Othello  • — 
Rob  Roy  — Byron  —  Hotspur  —  Clytus  —  Desperate  condition  of  Covent 
Garden  Theater  —  First  appearance  in  Richard  III.  —  Complete  success  — 
Contemporary  criticisms — Effect  on  the  treasury  of  the  theater  —  Altered 
position  —  Account  of  Mrs.  Siddons  in  Rowe's  "Tamerlane" — First 
appearance  in  Coriolanus —  Sonnet  by  Barry  Cornwall  —  A  fickle  lady  — 
Jaques  —  Robert  Dudley  —  Front  de  Boeuf  in  "  Ivanhoe  "  —  Henri  Quatre 

—  Edmund  in  "Lear"  —  Kean's  Lear  —  Production    of  "  Virginius  "  — 
Sheridan  Knowles  —  Dedication  of  "  Virginius  "  to  Macready  —  Hazlitt  — 
Jackson  —  Appearance  in  Macbeth  —  Refusal  of  pecuniary  gifts  on  benefits  137 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

1820-1821-1822.  —  Country  engagements  —  Dublin  —  Newcastle  —  Aberdeen 

—  Montrose  —  Dundee  —  Perth  —  Future  wife  —  Lancaster  —  Liverpool 

—  George  Meredith  —  Fifth  Covent  Garden  season  —  lachimo  —  Zanga  — 
Reading  MSS.  for  dramatic  authors  —  "Wallace"  —  Major  Cartwright  — 
Progress  in  public  opinion  —  Vandenhoff — "Mirandola"  —  Engagement 
of  Miss  Atkins   at  Bristol  —  Partial  restoration  of  Shakespeare's  text  in 
Richard  III.  —  John  Kemble  —  Wainwright  —  "Damon  and  Pythias"  — 
Character  of  Hamlet  —  Henry  IV. — -Portrait  by  Jackson  —  Story  of  the 
child  saved  from  fire  —  Country  engagements  —  Highland  tour  —  Second 
Covent  Garden  engagement  —  Difficulties  in  the  management  —  Cassius  — 
Othello  .  .156 


viii  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

1822.  —  Continental  tour  —  Paris  —  Mars,  Potier,  Duchcsnois,  Talma,  La- 
fond,  at  the  Theatre  Francais  —  Dijon  —  Geneva  —  Lausanne  —  Villeneuve 

—  St.  Maurice  —  The  Simplon  —  Lago  Maggiore  —  Milan  —  Iron  Crown 
at    Monza — Verona  —  Tomb   of  Juliet — Vu-enza  —  Padua  —  Arqua — 
Painful  pilgrimage  to  the  shrine  of  Petrarch  —  Venice  —  An  Italian  actor 

—  Bologna 172 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

1 822.  —  Florence  —  Ficsolc  —  Sir  Robert  Comyn  —  Naples  —  Eruption  of 
Vesuvius  —  Pompeii  —  Pacstum  —  Hcrculaneum  —  William  Etty  —  Rome 

—  Parma  —  Milan  —  Pantomimic  acting  —  Turin  —  Geneva  —  Paris  — 
Talma  in  "  Sylla." 186 

CHAPTER  XVIL 

1822-1823.  —  Commencement  of  Covent  Garden  season  —  Shell's  "Hugue- 
not"—  Wolsey  in  "Henry  VIII." — "  King  John  " — Miss  Mi  tford's  "Jul- 
ian " —  Shylock  —  Secession  from  Covent  Garden  —  Engagement  to  marry 

—  Agrees  with  Elliston  to  act  at  Drury  Lane  —  Provincial  engagements  — 
Rapid  journey  from  Southampton  to  Montrose  —  The  story  of  the  child 
rescued  from  the  fire  —  "  Virginius  "  at   Kendal  —  Tour  in    the  English 
Lake  country  —  Visit  to  Wordsworth  nt  Rydal  Mount  —  York — Musical 
festival  —  First  season  at  Drury  Lane  — Meeting  of  future  wife  and  sister   .  200 

CHAPTER  XVIIL 

1823-1824.  —  Knowles's  "  Caius  Gracchus  "  —  Ugo  Foscolo  —  Kean  declines 
to  act  with  Macrcady  —  Theodore  Hook  —  Hostility  of  part  of  the  London 
press  —  Purchase  of  the  Granby  Hotel  at  Harrogate  —  Letter  from  sister 
to  future  wife  . 210 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

1824-1825.  —  Marriage  —  Wedding  tour  —  Kite-Carriage  on  Salisbury  Plain 

—  Country  engagements  —  Drury  Lane  season  —  "Fatal  Dowry"  —  Se- 
vere   illness  —  "William    Tell"  —  Tour    in    North   Wales  —  Cottage   at 
Denbigh  —  Country  engagements          .        .  216 

CHAPTER  XX. 

1826.  — Drury  Lane— "First  Part  of  King  Henry  IV."  —  Elliston  in  Fal- 
staff — His  last  appearance  —  Stephen  Price  of  New  York  —  American  en- 
gagement—  Farewell  performance  at  Birmingham  —  The  treasury  of  the 
theater  robbed  —  Generosity  of  Macready  —  Letters  from  Mr.  Branton  and 
his  company  —  Departure  for  America  —  Passage  —  Arrival  at  New  York  222 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

1826.  —  T.  A.  Emmctt  —  First  appearance  in  Virginins  at  the  Park  Theater, 
New  York  —  Society  in  New  York — Visits  to  the  public  buildings,  etc. — 
The  Falls  of  the  Passaic  —  Moving  houses — Con  way  acting  in  New  York 

—  Forrest  —  Boston  —  Baltimore  —  Charles  Carroll  —  New  Year  customs  in 
New  York 227 


CONTENTS.  ix 

SELECTIONS  FROM  DIARIES.  ' 

1827. 

Continental  tour — Drury  Lane,  first  appearance  for  two  years  —  Provincial 
engagements  in  England 237 

1828. 

Paris  engagement  —  French  criticisms  —  Drury  Lane  —  Second  Paris  engage- 
ment —  Eesidence  at  Pinner  Wood  .  .  • 237 

1829. 
Provincial  engagements  —  Father's  death  —  Provincial  engagements      .        .  241 

1830. 

Provincial  engagements  —  Engagement  at  Drury  Lane  for  three  years  —  Res- 
idence at  Elstree  —  Eldest  daughter  born 241 

1831. 

Drnry  Lane  —  Provincial  engagements  —  Alteration  of  "  Bridal "  —  Birth  of 
Nina 243 

1832. 

Drury  Lane — Dublin  —  Young's  retirement — Visit  to  Rugby  —  Evidence 
before  Committee  of  House  of  Commons  upon  dramatic  literature  —  Country 
life  —  Eldest  son  born  —  Drury  Lane  —  Sir  Walter  Scott's  death  —  Act- 
ing with  Kean • .  .  .  .  246 

1833. 

Advantages  of  a  country  house  —  Lord  Dover's  "  Frederick  II." —  Skating  in 
Regent's  Park — Critical  opinions  of  Scott  —  Dryden  —  Exeter  —  Liver- 
pool —  Dublin  —  Schiller's  "  Thirty  Years'  War  "  —  Manchester  —  Carlisle 

—  Edinburgh  —  Racine's  "  Port  Royal "  — London  theaters  closed  —  Bunn 
lessee  of  Drury  Lane  —  Madame  Schroeder  Devrient  —  Malibran  —  Kean's 
funeral  —  Goethe's  "  Faust "  —  Birmingham  —  Benefit  —  Taglioni  —  Pict- 
ure   exhibitions  —  Paganini  —  Bristol  —  Swansea  —  Gloucester  —  Harro- 
gate  —  Knaresbo rough  —  "  Eugene  Aram  "  —  Brighton  —  Worthing  —  Dr. 
Wooll  —  Drury  Lane — Who  is  the  traitor?  —  Siddons  memorial  —  Liter- 
ary criticisms  on  Racine,  Voltaire,  and  Horace 253 

1834. 

Sardanapalus  —  Canterbury  —  Chantrey  —  Sheil  —  Miss  Austen's  "  Emma  " 

—  Proposed  at  the  Athenaeum  Club — Shakespeare  dinner  at  the  Garrick 
Club  —  Benefit  —  Literary  Fund  dinner  —  Garrick  Club  dinner  for  Siddons 
memorial  —  Birth  of  daughter  Catherine  —  Winkelmann  —  Grisi  —  "  Ba- 
viad  "  and  "  Mseviad  " — Provincial  Engagements 295 

1835. 

Bath  —  Halifax  —  Manchester  —  Whitworth's  factor}'  —  Salisbury  —  Schroe- 
der Devrient  —  Maclise  —  Jenny  Vertprd  —  Mrs.  Norton  —  W.  J.  Fox  — 


x  CONTENTS. 

Literary  Fund  dinner  —  Brougham's  "  Natural  Theology  "  —  "  Corinnc  " 

—  Freedom  of-  the  city  of  Dublin  —  Engagement  at  Drury  Lane  —  Sale  of 
the  Granby 325 

1836. 

Madame  de  Stael's  "  L'Allemagne  "  —  "Provost  of  Bruges  " — Difficulties 
with  Bunn  —  Byron's  "Childe  Harold"  —  Buhver's  "  La  Vallierc  "  —  A 
stage-coach  acquaintance  —  A  drunken  Appitis  Claudius  —  A  runaway 
prompter  —  Cast  of  "  Ion  "  —  Condition  of  the  stage — A  pickpocket  — 
Announcement  of  the  three  first  acts  of  "Richard  III."  —  Assault  on  Buim 

—  Newspaper  comments  —  Mali  bran  —  Remorse  —  Charles  Kemble  —  Ap- 
pearance at  Covent  Garden  Theater — Address  from  the  stage  —  Eclipse 
of  the  sun  —  First  night  of  "  Ion  " —  Supper  at  Talfourd's  —  Bunn  v.  Mac- 
ready —  Supper  at  Garrick  Club — Wisbeach —  Lincoln — Miss  Austen's 
novels  —  Private  theatricals  at  Cambridge  —  Day  at  Luton  and  St.  Alban's 

—  Swansea  —  Tin  tern  —  Cheltenham  —  Robbery  at  the  theater  —  London 
season  —  Covent  Garden  —  Forrest  at  Elstree  —  Rehearsal  of  "  La  Val- 
lifere" 349 

1837. 

First  night  of  "  La  Valliere  "  —  Invitation  from  Lady  Blessington  —  Dinner 
to  Charles  Kemble  on  his  retirement  —  Illness  —  Dublin  —  Anecdote  of  Sir 
Sidney  Smith  —  Browning's  "  Stratford  "  —  Expenses  and  projects  —  En- 
gagement at  Haymarket  —  Death  of  William  IV.—  Gives  up  chambers 
in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  —  House  in  Kent  Terrace,  Regent's  Park  —  "  The 
Bridal"  produced  at  the  Haymarket  —  Birth  of  a  daughter  —  Arrange- 
ments for  taking  Covent  Garden  —  Listen  in  the  country  —  Takes  posses- 
sion of  Covent  Garden  —  House  in  York  Terrace  — Memorial  to  the  Queen 

—  A  French  admirer —  Opening  of  Covent  Garden  —  Managerial  work  — 
Calculations   of   expenses — Queen's   visit   to   Covent   Garden — Gloomy 
prospects  —  Christmas  pantomime 390 

1838. 

Rehearsal  of  "King  Lear"  at  Covent  Garden  —  Miss  P.  Horton  as  the  Fool 

—  Salver  presented  to  Stanficld  —  "King  Lear"  produced  —  Announce- 
ment of  Buhver's  name  as  the  author  of  "  The  Lady  of  Lyons  "  —  "Corio- 
lanus  "  produced —  The  "  Foscari  "  produced  — Easter  piece  of  "  Sindbad 
the   Sailor" — Talfourd's   "Athenian    Captive"  —  Knowles'    "Woman's 
Wit"  —  Testimonial  from  the  Covent  Garden  Company  —  Dinner  to  Sir 
John  Herschel  on  his  return  from  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  —  Close  of  sea- 
son at  Covent  Garden  —  Visit  to  Paris  —  Engagement  at  the  Haymarket 

—  Family  at  Eastbourne  —  House  taken  in  Cumberland  Terrace.  Regent's 
Park  —  Preparations  for  bringing  out  "  The  Tempest"  —  Miss  P.  Horton 
as  Ariel  —  Announcement  of  the  re-opening  of  Covent  Garden — List  of 
the  company  —  "  The   Tempest  "   produced  —  Reading   "  Richelieu  "  — 
George  Scharf —  The  Christmas  pantomime 420 

1839. 

Reading  of  "  Richelieu"  to  the  actors  —  A  day  of  business  —  Letter  from 
Alfred  de  Vigny  —  The  Queen's  visit  to  Covent  Garden  Theater — Rehear- 
sal of  "  Richelieu" — Thoughts  on  the  character  —  Production  of  "  Riche- 
lieu "—  Babbage's  conversazione  —  Shakespeare  Club  dinner  —  Drive  to 
Elstree  —  Last  night  of  "  The  Tempest  "  —  Revival  of  "  King  Henry  V." 

—  Close  of  Covent  Garden  management  —  Dinner,  under  the  presidency  of 
the  Duke  of  Sussex,  given  to  Macready  at  the  Freemasons'  Tavern  —  En- 
gagement at  the  Haymarket —  House  taken   at  York  Gate,  Regent's  Park 


CONTENTS.  si 

—  Failure  of  effort  to  obtain  a  personal  license  to  perform  tlie  legitimate 
drama  —  Authorship  of  "  Glencoe  "  —  Wishes  to  succeed  Charles  Kemble 

as  Examiner  of  Plays 448 

1840. 

Engagement  at  Drury  Lane  —  Acts  Ruthven  in  "Mary  Stuart"  —  Farewell 
to  Elstree  — Engagement  at  Haymarket  —  Soiree  at  Marquis  of  Northamp- 
ton's —  First  night  of  Talfourd's  "  Glencoe  "  —  Richard  Cromwell  in  "  Mas- 
ter Clarke  "  —  Reading  and  arranging  Bulwer's  "  Money  "  —  Rehearsal  of 
"Money"  —  Acceptance  of  Griffin's  "  Gisippus"  —  Death  of  Joan  —  First 
night  of  "  Money  " 466 

1841. 

Calculation  of  expenses  —  Siddons  monument  —  Little  Nell  in  "Master 
Humphrey's  Clock  "  —  Committee  for  Siddons  monument  —  Proposals  for 
taking  Drury  Lane  Theater — Engagement  at  Newcastle  —  Birmingham  — 
Thoughts  on  death — Visit  to  Rugby  —  Engagements  at  Bristol,  Exeter, 
Plymouth  —  Engagement  at  the  ilaymarket —  Literary  Fund  dinner  — 
Engagement  at  Dublin,  Liverpool,  Birmingham,  Manchester  —  At  East- 
bourne— Engagement  at  Haymarket  —  Rachel  in  "  Emilie  "  and  in  "  Ca- 
mille  "  —  Meeting  with  Drury  Lane  committee  —  Takes  possession  of  Drury 
Lane  Theater — Preparations  for  opening — Visit  to  Kensal  Green  Ceme- 
tery—  Opening  of  Drury  Lane  under  Macready's  management  .  .  .  473 

1842. 

Exclusion  of  women  of  the  town  from  Drury  Lane  Theater  —  Anonymous  let- 
ter to  Macready —  Letter  in  "  The  Times  "  containing  letter  to  "  John  Bull " 

—  Production   of  "  Acis  and   Galatea" — Production   of   "Gisippus"  — 
"  Plighted  Troth  "  —  Dresses  for  Queen's  ball  — Royal  Academy  dinner  — 
"  Marino  Faliero  "  —  Dublin  —  Dr.  Arnold's  death  —  Country  engagements 

—  "  As  You  Like  it "  at  Drury  Lane  —  "  King  John  "  —  Dryden's  "  King 
Arthur"  —  "  Patrician's  Daughter  " — Birth  of  a  daughter         .        .        .488 

1843. 

Browning's  "Blot  on  the  Scutcheon"  —  "Much  Ado  About  Nothing"  — 
"  Fortunio  "  —  Close  of  Drury  Lane  management  —  Presentation  of  testi- 
monial to  Macready  by  the  Duke  of  Cambridge  at  Willis's  Rooms  —  Cob- 
den's  play — Breakfast  with  Milnes — Petition  to  House  of  Commons 
against  theatrical  monopoly  —  Siddons  memorial — Dinner  at  Star  and 
Garter,  Richmond — Pavilion  in  Buckingham  Palace  Garden  —  Leave-tak- 
ings in  London  —  Departure  for  America  —  Halifax  —  Boston  —  New  York 

—  Dinner  with  Forrest —  Miss  Cushman  —  Longfellow  —  General  Bertrand 

—  Prescott — Other  distinguished  Americans 502 

1844. 

Charleston  —  The  "  child  "  again  —  Slavery  in  the  Southern  States  —  Savan- 
nah —  A  duel  —  Slaves  on  the  road  —  Macon  —  Griffin  — Rough  quarters 

—  Greenville  —  La  Grange  —  Casera  —  Checaw  —  The  Alabama  —  Mobile 

—  A  slave  sale  —  New  Orleans  —  Washington's  birthday  —  Mobile  —  New 
Orleans  —  The  Mississippi  —  St.  Louis  —  Louisville  —  Cincinnati  —  Pitts- 
burg  —  Harrisburg  —  New  York  —  Montreal  —  Philadelphia  —  Boston  — 
Engagement  in  Paris 517 


xii  CONTEXTS. 


1845. 

DC  la  Roche's  pictures  —  George  Sand  —  Performance  of  "  Hamlet "  before 
Louis  Philippe  at  the  Tuileries —  Performance  nt  the  OpeYa  Comique  for 
the  Society  for  the  Relief  of  Distressed  Authors  —  Victor  Hugo  —  Private 
theatricals  at  Lord  Cowley's  —  The  Conservatoire  —  Newcastle  —  Sheffield 

—  Manchester  —  Glasgow  —  Whitehaven  —  Belfast  —  Dumfries  —  Carlisle 

—  London  dinners  and  receptions  —  Birmingham — Norwich  —  Worcester 

—  Visit   to  the  Rolls  family  —  Colchester  —  Ipswich  —  At  Eastbourne  — 
St.   Helier's  —  Southampton  —  Stamford  —  Peterborough  —  Yarmouth  — 
Norwich  —  Birmingham  —  Liverpool  —  Leicester —  Engagement  at  Prin- 
cess's Theater —  Starting  of  a  new  London  daily  paper  —  Amateur  play  at 

St.  James's  Theater  —  Dublin  —  Belfast 537 

1846. 

Exeter  —  Plymouth  —  Colonel  Hamilton  Smith  —  Edinburgh  —  Forrest's 
hiss  at  Macready's  Hamlet  —  Lauriston  —  Holyrood  House  —  Bonally  — 
Lord  Cockburn  —  Melrose  —  Ambleside  —  Miss  Martineau  —  Repton  — 
Mother's  baptismal  registry  —  Mother's  family  —  Engagement  at  the  Sur- 
rey Theater  —  Royal  Academy  dinner  —  London  society  —  Dr.  Elliotson's 
oration  at  College  of  Physicians  —  Breakfast  with  Rogers  —  Lunch  with 
Henry  Taylor  —  Rachel  in  "  Camille  "  —  Engagement  at  Jersey  and  Guern- 
sey —  Birth  of  a  daughter  —  Manchester  —  Reading  "  Macbeth  "  at  Mary- 
lebone  Literary  Institution — Plymouth  —  Canterbury  ....  552 

1847. 

Exeter  —  Bristol  —  Bath  —  Dublin  —  Belfast  —  Glasgow —  Grecnock  — 
Theatrical  Fund  dinner  —  Liverpool  —  Manchester  —  M.  Regnier  in  Lon- 
don—  Amateur  play  at  St.  James's  Theater  —  Death  of  O'Connell  —  En- 
gagement at  Princess's  Theater  —  Jenny  Lind  in  the  "  Figlia  del  Reggi- 
mento  "  —  Dinners  and  reception  at  home  —  Rachel  in  Phedre  —  At  Ea»t- 
bourne  —  Engagement  at  Princess's  Theater  —  Reading  of  "Philip  van 
Artevelde  "  —  Production  of  the  play  —  Westminster  play  ....  564 

1848. 

Prospects  and  plans  —  Engagement  at  Princess's  Theater — Provincial  en- 
gagements —  The  children  acting  —  Engagement  at  Marylebone  Theater  — 
Royal  Academy  dinner  —  Provincial  engagements —  Sir  John  Soane's  Mu- 
seum —  Schemes  for  living  in  America  —  Outrage  to  French  actors  at  Drury 
Lane  Theater —  Visit  to  the  Misses  Twiss  —  Special  performance  before  the 
Queen  at  Drury  Lane — Visit  to  Belvedere  —  Edition  of  Pope  for  young 
people  —  Start  for  America  —  Boston  —  Cambridge  —  Engagement  at  New 
York  —  Philadelphia  —  Death  of  brother  —  Outrage  at  Arch  Street  Theater 

—  Forrest's  card  —  Baltimore  —  Richmond  —  Washington         .        .        .571 

1849. 

Richmond  —  Charleston  —  The  Mississippi — Life  on  the  river — Louisville 

—  On  the  Ohio — Cincinnati  —  Outrage  at  the  theater  —  New  York — Dis- 
turbance in  the  theater  —  Requisition  to  act  again  —  Great  Riot  at  Ni.-w 
York  —  Escape  from  the  Astor  Place  Theater  —  Saved  by  friends — Takes 
refuge  at  Boston  —  Sympathy  and  support  —  Leaves  America  —  Arrival  in 
London  —  Arrangement  to  act  before  the  Queen  at  Windsor  —  Engagement 
in  the  provinces  —  At  Eastbourne  —  Visit  to  Sherborne — Statue  of  Mrs. 
Siddons  in  Westminster  Abbey  —  Engagement  at  Havmarket  —  Provincial 
farewells  —  Windsor  Castle  .'  .  586 


CONTENTS.  xiii 


1850. 

Farewell  at  Bristol  —  Illness  of  Nina  —  Farewell  at  Liverpool  —  Death  of 
Nina  —  Farewell  at  Newcastle  —  A  son  born  —  Farewell  at  Birmingham  — 
House  taken  at  Sherborne  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carlyle  —  Visit  at  Knebworth 
to  Sir  E.  L.  Bulwer  —  Removal  to  Sherborne  —  Last  performances  in  Scot- 
land—  Farewell  performances  at  the  Haymarket  Theater  —  Reading  at 
Rugby  —  "  Richard  II."  at  the  Haymarket  —  Kensal  Green  Cemetery  — 
Westminster  Play 608 

1851. 

Haymarket  farewell  performances  continued  — Last  night  of  "  Virginias  "  — 
Wordsworth  memorial  —  Last  night  of  lago  —  Character  of  lago  —  Last 
nights  of  Brutus  and  Othello  —  Last  nights  of  Hamlet,  Richelieu,  and  Lear 

—  Farewell  at  the  Haymarket  Theater  —  Sale  of  theatrical  wardrobe  — 
Farewell  benefit  in  Macbeth  at  Drury  Lane  Theater — Farewell  speech  on 
the  stage  —  Farewell  dinner  —  List  of  stewards  and  guests — Speeches  at 
farewell  dinner  —  Bulwer  Lytton  —  Macready  —  Dickens  —  Van  der  Weyer 

—  Sir  Charles  Eastlake  —  John  Forster  —  Tennyson's  sonnet  —  Bunsen  — 
W.  J.  Fox  —  Charles  Kemble  —  Thackeray  —  To  Sherborne  —  Great  Ex- 
hibition of  1851  —  Royal  Academy  dinner  —  Mr.  Rogers  —  Macready  sug- 
.gestcd  as  Member  of  Parliament  for  the  Tower  Hamlets  —  End  of  the  year  624 


MACREADY  IN   RETIREMENT. 


Life  at  Sherborne  —  Complete  severance  from  the.  stage  —  Letters  from 
Charles  Sumner  —  Dr.  Liddell  —  From  clergymen  — From  Wightwick  — 
Night  school  —  Literary  Institution  —  Report  to  Committee  of  Council  of 
Education  by  Rev.  W.  A.  Brookfield  —  Description  of  Sherborne  House  — 
Macready's  readings  —  Death  of  wife,  and  two  sons  —  Death  of  Count 
D'Orsay  —  Dinner  to  Thackeray  at  London  Tavern  —  Visit  to  ruins  of 
Covent  Garden  Theater  —  Paris  —  Death  of  Young  —  Dickens's  private 
theatricals  —  Lectures— •- Death  of  daughter  and  sister  —  Farewell  to  Insti- 
tution and  School  at  Sherborne —  Removal  to  Cheltenham  .  .  .  649 

Selected  letters  (1852  to  1867) :  — 

Mrs.  Macready's  health  —  Hamlet :  Was  the  Queen  privy  to  the  murder  of 
Hamlet's  father?  —  Clarissa  Harlowe  —  Problems  of  Government  — 
Shakespeare's  power  —  Dante  —  Emile  Devrient  in  Hamlet  —  Kcan  — 
John  Kemble — Prince  Albert  —  Mrs.  Hemans  —  Richard  Cumberland 
—  Robson — London  in  September  —  Early  practice  for  the  stage  —  Ris- 
tori  —  Robert  Lytton  —  Shakespeare  at  the  Princess's  Theater  —  Second 
marriage  —  Cheltenham  —  Fechter's  acting  —  Character  of  Hamlet  — 
Christening  of  son  —  Shakespeare  festival  —  Tate's  "  King  Lear."  .  659 

Death  of  daughter  Catherine  —  The  end  —  Funeral  at  Kensal  Green  —  Mon- 
umental tablet  .  .  700 


IXDEX  .         .        .         .703 


WILLIAM  CHARLES  MACREADY. 


HIGH-SOULED,  and  in  the  law  of  duty  strong 
With  toil  to  climb  the  steep  and  narrow  ways 
Which  upward  lead,  it  was  no  common  praise 
To  live  in  clear  sense  of  the  right  and  wrong 
Of  his  vocation,  and  his  life-time  long 
To  war  against  the  baseness  which  betrays 
The  cause  of  honest  excellence ;  his  days 
Spent  in  devoted  study;   from  the  throng 
Of  fashion- fawners  dwelling  far  apart: 
A  sterling  gentleman;  great  when  he  played 
la  England's  noble  drama,  and  the  still 
House  wept,  or  loud  applauded,  as  its  heart 
He  wrought,  and  with  imperious  passion  swayed 
The  reins  of  the  full  theater  at  will. 


EDITOR. 


MACREADY'S    REMINISCENCES. 


Quam  potius  laudandus  hie  est,  qucm  prole  paratfi 
Occupat  in  parva  pigra  senccta  casa  : 

Sic  ego  sim  ;  liceatque  caput  candcscerc  canis, 
Temporis  et  prisci  facta  referre  senem  ! " 

Tibullus,  lib.  i.  Eleg.  10,  v.  39. 

'  Blest  is  his  lot  whom  years  advancing  find 

With  children  round  him,  and  of  frugal  state  : 

Such  would  I  be,  though  whitening  locks  remind 
Of  age,  and  of  old  times  old  men  will  prate."  —  ED.  TRANS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

1793-1808.  —  Earliest  recollections  —  Preparatory  schools  at  Kensington  and 
Birmingham — School  mutiny  —  Father's  theatre  at  Birmingham — King  — 
Mrs.  Siddons  —  Mrs.  Billington  —  Lord  Nelson  at  the  theater  —  Visit  to  rela- 
tions at  Dublin  —  Adventure  at  Chester  —  Entrance  at  Rugby  —  School  life  — 
Dr.  Inglis  —  Fagging  —  Mother's  death  —  School  theatricals  —  The  young  Ros- 
cius  —  Rapid  rise  in  the  school  —  Unmerited  punishment — William  Birch  — 
Fight  with  a  bully  —  Dr.  Wooll  —  Rugby  speeches  —  More  elaborate  theatricals 
—  Edmund  Kean  at  Birmingham. 

MAKY  STREET,  TOTTENHAM  COURT  ROAD,  3D  MARCH,  1793. 

IF  I  am  to  select  occurrences  out  of  those  which  have  befallen  me, 
my  judgment  may  err  from  many  natural  motives  in  the  choice  be- 
tween such  as  I  record  and  those  I  may  omit.  It  will  therefore  prob- 
ably be  more  judicious  in  me  to  refrain  from  any  exercise  of  my  dis- 
crimination in  this  rough  draft  of  my  life's  accidents,  and,  beginning  at 
the  beginning,  to  note  down  all  I  can  remember,  even  in  my  infancy, 
of  impressions,  feelings,  and  incidents,  reserving  the  task  of  sifting 
and  deciding  upon  what  may  be  worth  preserving  to  a  period  when  I 
can  review  the  whole  (should  it  be  God's  will  I  live  to  do  it),  and 
perceive  the  relation  that  small  things  may  bear  to  the  greater  events 
of  my  history.  The  dim  remembrance  of  my  earliest  years  makes  it 
certain  to  me  that  the  "  res  angusta  domi"  called  into  active  duty  all 
the  economical  resources  and  active  management  of  a  mother  (whose 
memory  is  enshrined  in  my  heart's  fondest  gratitude)  to  supply  the 
various  wants  of  myself  and  an  elder  sister,  who  only  lived  long 
1 


2  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  L 

enough  to  make  me  sensible  of  her  angelic  nature.  Four  children 
had  been  born  to  my  father  before  my  birth,  but  this  sister,  Olivia, 
was  the  only  one  who  survived  long  enough  for  association  with  my 
recollections.  She  was  a  year  and  a  half  old  when  I  came  into  the 
world,  and  died  a  month  after  I  had  completed  my  fifth  year ;  but  she 
lives,  like  a  dim  and  far-off  dream,  to  my  memory,  of  a  spirit  of  meek- 
ness, love,  and  truth,  interposing  herself  between  rny  infant  will  and 
the  evil  it  purposed.  It  is  like  a  vision  of  an  angelic  influence  upon  a 
most  violent  and  self-willed  disposition.  I  do  not  remember  her  dis- 
appearance from  amongst  us,  though  I  retain  clear  ideas  of  herself. 

Infant  schools  were  a  boon  not  then  conferred  on  our  generation,  or 
I  was  quite  young  enough  to  have  been  among  their  little  crowds 
when  I  was  first  "  got  out  of  the  way,"  and  for  a  time  out  of  mischief, 
by  being  carried  to  a  day-school.  My  childhood  and  boyhood  hence- 
forth were  all  school ;  and  it  is  even  now  with  sorrow,  deep  and  stern, 
that  I  reflect  upon  the  companionship  into  which  I  was  cast  in  those 
tender  years.  To  God  my  thoughts  revert  in  penitential  gratitude  for 
my  escape  from  many  ills  into  which  I  might  have  been  led  by  the 
depravity  of  associates  among  whom,  an  innocent  child,  I  was  then 
thrown.  As  it  was,  much  unhappiness  in  after  life  resulted  from  ideas 
communicated  by  the  vulgar-minded  boys  who  were  herded  together 
under  indifferent  teachers  at  these  preparatory  schools.  I  can  re- 
member the  fare  to  have  been  to  my  palate,  not  then  over  nice,  act- 
ually .  disgusting.  But  I  had  holidays,  and  a  mother's  love  to  wel- 
come me  home  with  tears  of  joy ;  and  these  happy  variations  of  my 
drudging  days  stand  out  in  pleasing  relief  through  this  obscure  period. 

From  a  preparatory  school  at  Kensington,  where  we  were  dressed 
in  uniform  of  scarlet  jacket,  blue  or  nankeen  trousers,  I  was  removed, 
for  about  three  years,  to  one  in  St.  Paul's  Square,  Birmingham,  kept 
by  a  Mr.  Edgell,  a  violent-tempered  man,  with  small  pretensions  to 
the  discharge  of  the  office  he  had  undertaken.  In  those  days,  how- 
ever, he  had  a  sort  of  local  reputation,  although  his  title  to  "  the 
Revd.,"  prefixed  to  his  name,  was  generally  disputed,  and  assertions 
were  very  confidently  made  that  he  had  labored  on  a  shop-board  pre- 
vious to  his  setting  up  as  school-master.  The  interval  of  a  few  weeks 
between  my  translation  from  one  school  to  the  other  was  passed  at 
Cheltenham.  My  journey  there  differed  somewhat  from  modern 
traveling.  Leaving  London  with  my  father  about  noon  by  the  Long 
Coach  (a  sort  of  clumsy  omnibus),  reaching  Oxford  after  midnight, 
to  supper  in  the  kitchen  of  the  inn,  on  beef  (which  I  remember  my 
father  indignantly  denounced  as  of  mauvaise  odeur),  we  arrived  at 
Cheltenham  in  something  less  than  twenty-four  hours. 

This  populous  and  handsomely-laid-out  town  was  then  little  more 
than  one  long  street,  with  a  few  intersecting  smaller  ones.  The  Well 
Walk  (or  as  it  is  now  called,  the  Royal  Old  Wells)  then  was  crowded 
in  the  early  morning  with  visitors  parading  up  and  down  after  their 
daily  dose  of  the  waters.  My  inevitable  tumbler,  very  unwillingly 
taken,  and  a  little  aviary  near  the  little  theater,  belonging  to  a  Mr. 


1793-1808.  SCHOOL  MUTINY.  3 

Watson,  make  up  the  sum  total  of  my  recollections  of  the  place.  At 
my  new  school  I  certainly  made  progress  in  arithmetic,  having  gone 
through  Bonny  castle  more  than  twice  before  I  was  ten  years  old. 
But  recitation  was  my  forte ;  in  English  Grammar  and  Reading  I 
stood  in  the  first  class.  Milton  and  Young  being  two  of  our  school- 
books,  I  had  to  learn  by  heart  long  extracts  from  them,  from  Aken- 
side,  Pope,  and  pieces  from  "  Enfield's  Speaker,"  —  including  Sterne, 
Thomson,. Keate,  Shakespeare,  etc.,  which  have  been  of  some  service 
to  me  in  accustoming  my  ear  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  melody  of 
rhythm.  To  cure  me  of  the  habit  of  misplacing  my  h's,  my  dear 
mother,  I  remember,  took  especial  pains,  and  in  teaching  me  Dry- 
den's  "  Alexander's  Feast,"  the  line,  as  I  pronounced  it,  "  'Appy,  'ap- 
py,  'appy  pair ! "  was  for  some  time  an  insuperable  obstacle  to  prog- 
ress. I  have  distinct  impressions  of  certain  states  of  feeling  under 
various  events  at  this  early  period.  A  very  strong  will,  headlong 
impulse,  and  a  very  loving  disposition,  are  evidenced  to  me  in  the 
several  little  occurrences  that  live  before  me  as  I  look  back  to  these 
childish  days. 

My  facility  in  leai'ning  was  remarked,  and  my  power  of  retention 
was  singular.  My  reading-books  were  very  few,  so  that  a  Grecian, 
Roman,  and  English  History,  a  selection  from  Plutarch,  Tooke's 
"  Pantheon,"  and  the  proper  names  at  the  end  of  the  dictionaries, 
were  read  over  and  over  again ;  but  Pope's  Homer  was  almost 
learned  by  heart.  The  production  of  a  play  was  suggested  by  some 
of  the  bigger  boys,  and  it  was  fixed  to  be  "  Cato  ; "  but  no  progress 
was  made  in  it  beyond  my  learning  the  part  of  Juba,  and  the  boy 
who  undertook  that  of  Syphax,  with  the  scenery  and  decorations,  half 
finishing  the  crown  I  was  to  wear. 

There  was'a  general  spirit  of  mutiny  awakened  in  the  minds  of  the 
boys  by  some  of  the  bigger  ones,  the  aim  and  effect  of  which  was,  as 
I  recollect,  a  determination  to  influence  the  parents  in  all  ways  to  re- 
move us  from  under  Edgell's  care,  and  a  declared  aversion  to  the 
Dionysius  of  our  little  state.  The  discovery  of  this  insubordination 
brought  down  punishment  and  penitence  upon  the  ringleaders  during 
an  illness,  a  violent  attack  of  the  mumps,  that  confined  me  from 
school ;  and  upon  my  return  I,  a  very  little  boy,  just  ten  years  old, 
though  at  the  head  of  the  school,  and  a  favorite  of  the  dreaded  tyrant, 
found  myself  a  solitary  conspirator  !  Upon  occasion  of  an  harangue 
from  the  despot,  which  concluded  with  his  avowed  determination  to 
"  make  every  boy  obey  him  "  —  I  muttered  in  my  distant  desk,  "  I  '11 
be  hanged  if  I  '11  obey  you."  A  pardoned  rebel  near  me,  hearing  the 
words,  instantly  denounced  me.  I  was  called  up  and  questioned,  and 
stood  to  what  I  had  said.  The  consequence  was  inevitable  ;  the  mas- 
ter left  the  schoolroom  to  bring  his  birch  out  of  a  more  distant  apart- 
ment. I  seized  the  occasion,  and  darted  out  of  the  schoolroom  door. 
The  yell  of  the  recreant  traitors,  "  He  is  gone  !  he  is  gone  ! "  put  the 
long-legged  Polypheme  in  swift  pursuit.  I  had,  in  my  bewilderment, 
rushed  up  instead  of  down  the  hill,  and  was  soon  grasped  in  the  fangs 


4  MAC  READY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  I. 

of  the  remorseless  Edgell,  who  pounced  upon  me  like  a.  kite  upon  a 
tomtit  in  its  crazy  flight.  Condign  punishment  was  mercilessly  in- 
flicted, and  I  remember  I  was  treated  with  indignity  by  the  very  same 
big  boys  who  had  seduced  me  from  my  allegiance. 

My  great  amusement  in  my  summer  holidays  at  Birmingham  was  in 
seeing  plays  and  in  acting  some  of  my  own  composition  with  my 
brother  and  sisters.  In  my  father's  dressing-room  I  had  a  glimpse  of 
King,  dressed  as  Lord  Ogleby,  of  which  character  he  was  the  original 
representative,  and  distinguished  for  its  performance  in  Garrick's  day. 
The  grand  deportment  and  beauty  of  Mrs.  Siddons  were  engraven  on 
my  boyish  memory,  though  then  unable  justly  to  estimate  her  powers. 
Lewis's  face,  then  seen,  I  have  never  forgotten,  although  what  I  have 
known  of  his  acting  has  been  entirely  from  description.  I  had  the 
opportunity,  too,  of  hearing  the  great  songstress  of  her  day,  Mr-. 
Billington.  For  a  week  the  theater  was  every  night  crowded,  as 
people  say,  to  suffocation,  but  I  can  only  recall  the  figure  of  a  very 
lusty  woman,  and  the  excitement  of  the  audience,  when  the  orchestra 
struck  up  the  symphony  of  Arne's  rattling  bravura,  '•  The  Soldier 
tired,"  in  the  opera  of  "  Artaxerxes." 

But  one  evening  (in  giving  me  a  sight  of  the  man  with  whose  fame 
nil  Europe  rang,  and  who  will  forever  rank  first  among  the  first  of 
our  country's  naval  heroes)  stands  out  in  my  memory  as  marked  with 
golden  letters.  During  the  short  peace  of  Amiens,  Nelson  made  a 
tour  through  several  of  our  provincial  towns,  —  a  recreation  appar- 
ently innocent  enough,  but  which  was  harshly  reflected  on  in  the 
House  of  Lords.  Birmingham  was  one  of  those  he  visited,  and  I  be- 
lieve my  memory  does  not  err  in  stating  that  the  people  drew  his  car- 
riage, or  attempted  to  draw  it,  from  the  suburbs  to  his  hotel.  The 
news  of  his  arrival  spread  like  wildfire,  and  when  his  intention  of 
going  to  the  theater  got  wind,  all  who  heard  of  it,  as  might  have  been 
expected,  flocked  there  to  behold,  and  do  him  honor.  The  play  was 
Shakespeare's  "  Merry  Wives  of  "Windsor,"  for  the  benefit  of  a  player 
of  the  name  of  Blissett,  who  had  some  repute  in  the  part  of  FalstaflF. 
At  my  father's  request  Lord  Nelson  consented  to  bespeak  for  the  next 
night  the  play  of  "  King  Henry  IV.,"  wishing  to  see  Blissett  again  in 
Falstaff'.  The  box-office  was  literally  besieged  early  the  next  morn- 
ing, and  every  place  soon  taken.  At  the  hour  of  commencement  my 
father  was  waiting  with  candles  to  conduct  the  far-famed  hero  through 
the  lobby,  which  went  round  the  whole  semicircle  of  the  lower  tier,  to 
his  box.  The  shouts  outside  announced  the  approach  of  the  carriage  : 
the  throng  was  great,  but  being  close  to  my  father's  side,  I  had  not 
only  a  perfect  view  of  the  hero's  pale  and  interesting  face,  but  lis- 
tened with  such  eager  attention  to  every  word  he  uttered,  that  I  had 
all  he  said  by  heart,  and  for  months  afterwards  was  wont  to  be  called 
upon  to  repeat  "  what  Lord  Nelson  said  to  your  father."  This  was  in 
substance  to  the  effect  that  the  universal  esteem  in  which  his,  my  fa- 
ther's, character  was  held  in  the  town  made  it  a  pleasure  and  a  duty 
to  render  him  any  assistance. 


1793-1808.  LORD  NELSON  AT  THE  THEATER.  5 

Nothing  of  course  passed  unnoticed  by  my  boyish  enthusiasm :  the 
right-arm  empty  sleeve  attached  to  his  breast,  the  orders  upon  it,  a 
sight  to  me  so  novel  and  remarkable ;  but  the  melancholy  expression 
of  his  countenance  and  the  extremely  mild  and  gentle  tones  of  his 
voice  impressed  me  most  sensibly.  They  were  indeed  for  a  life's  re- 
membrance. When  with  Lady  Hamilton  and  Dr.  Nelson  he  entered 
his  box,  the  uproar  of  the  house  was  deafening,  and  seemed  as  if  it 
would  know  no  end.  The  play  was  at  length  suffered  to  proceed,  after 
which  was  a  sort  of  divertisement  in  honor  of  the  illustrious  visitor, 
from  one  song  of  which  I  can  even  now  recollect  one  couplet !  O 
sacred  Nine,  forgive  me  while  I  quote  it ! 

"  We  '11  shake  hands,  and  be  friends  ;  if  they  won't,  why,  what  then  ? 
We  '11  send  our  brave  Nelson  to  thrash  'em  again. 
Deny  Down,"  etc. 

The  crowded  house  was  frantic  in  its  applause  at  this  sublime  effusion. 
Lady  Hamilton,  laughing  loud  and  without  stint,  clapped  with  up- 
lifted hands  and  all  her  heart,  and  kicked  with  her  heels  against  the 
foot-board  of  the  seat,  while  Nelson  placidly  and  with  his  mournful 
look  (perhaps  in  pity  for  the  poet)  bowed  repeatedly  to  the  oft-re- 
peated cheers.  Next  day  my  father  called  at  the  hotel  to  thank  his 
Lordship,  when  Nelson  presented  him  with  what  he  intended  to  be  the 
cost  of  his  box  wrapped  in  paper,  regretting  that  his  ability  to  testify 
his  respect  for  my  father  was  so  much  below  his  will.  •  My  father 
never  told  me  the  amount,  but  purchased  with  it  a  piece  of  plate  that 
he  retained  to  his  death  in  memory  of  the  donor.  I  should  not  omit 
to  mention  that  in  the  hall  of  the  hotel  were  several  sailors  of  Nel- 
son's ship  waiting  to  see  him,  to  each  of  whom  the  great  admiral  spoke 
in  the  most  affable  manner,  inquiringly  and  kindly,  as  he  passed 
through  to  his  carriage,  and  left  them,  I  believe,  some  tokens  of  his 
remembrance. 

My  winter  vacations  were  usually  spent  at  the  houses  of  friends, 
where  my  chief  diversion  was  lying  on  a  sofa  and  reading  novels. 
At  the  close  of  the  half-year  in  which  this  formidable  rebellion  took 
place,  I  was  removed  from  the  school  by  my  dear  mother,  who,  if  I 
remember  rightly,  exerted  her  spirit  in  giving  a  very  severe  rebuke  to 
my  quondam  master.  She  had  been  of  late  years  an  invalid,  and  had 
tried  the  air  of  different  watering-places  in  the  quest  of  her  lost 
strength  ;  but  in  vain.  She  was  on  her  way  from  Clifton  to  Bolton- 
le-Moors,  to  rejoin  my  father,  resting  at  Birmingham,  from  whence, 
glad  to  turn  my  back  on  the  grim  Edgell,  though  with  the  fear  of 
Rugby  before  my  eyes,  I  accompanied  her.  Our  mode  of  traveling, 
post-chaise  and  pair,  was  tedious,  when  bribes  to  the  postilion  could 
rarely  get  you  beyond  seven  miles  an  hour.  We  reached  the  Con- 
gleton  at  dusk,  where  my  dear  mother's  illness  detained  us  for  the 
night.  I  can  remember  now  the  agony  of  heart  with  which  I  went 
into  the  street  of  the  strange  town  to  find  a  druggist's  shop,  where  I 
might  buy  some  ether,  choking  with  tears  and  running  in  trembling 


6  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CIIAI-.  I. 


with  the  medicine.  How  I  recollect  the  load  lifted  off  mv 
heart  when  (lie  maid  told  me  she  was  really  better.  The  next  morn- 
ing she  was  able  to  pursue  her  journey,  and  passing  through  Manches- 
ter, we  reached  the  town  of  Bolton-le-Moors,  which,  I  remember,  was 
regarded  as  a  semi-barbarous  place.  I  may  be  mistaken,  but  the  im- 
pression is  on  my  mind  that  it  was  not  lighted.  I  recollect  the  un- 
couth dialect  of  the  people,  and  a  savage  mode  the  laboring  people 
were  said  to  have  of  settling  their  quarrels  —  viz.  by  "  purring,"  i.  e. 
the  combatant,  when  his  adversary  was  down,  kicking  him  on  the 
head  with  his  wooden-soled  shoe.  Lodgings,  streets,  everything 
seemed  on-  a  low  scale  ;  I  have  little  doubt  but  that  now  it  is  a 
handsome  town  Avith  its  institutions  and  civic  government  all  en  regie. 

The  small  theater  held  by  my  father  was  nightly  filled  with  people 
from  Manchester  to  see  the  comedy  of  "  John  Bull,"  at  that  same 
time  performing  with  great  success  at  Covent  Garden.  The  author, 
Geo.  Colman  the  Younger,  as  he  subscribes  himself,  was  one  evening 
in  the  theater  at  Bolton,  at  the  representation  of  his  own  play.  My 
father  had  obtained  by  great  favor  a  copy  of  the  MS.  from  the  pro- 
prietors of  the  Covent  Garden  Theater,  and  boasted  of  being  the 
only  manager  out  of  the  metropolis  who  could  give  the  performance. 
Colman  offered  good  terms,  for  his  theater  in  the  Haymarket  to  three 
of  the  actors;  but  my  father  stood  on  his  dignity,  and  not  having 
been  first  applied  to,  refused  his  permission,  without  which  they  all 
three  most  loyally  refused  to  treat. 

From  Bolton  I  was  taken  by  my  parents  to  Dublin,  traveling  post 
to  Holyhead  ;  I  recollect  well  the  comfort  of  the  inns,  the  good  fare, 
the  clean  rooms,  and  the  difficulty  of  the  roads,  my  first  view  of  the 
sea,  of  which  I  had  I  know  not  what  kind  of  previous  vague  idea 
from  reciting  at  Edgell's  school  Keate's  "  Address  to  the  Ocean."  A 
fast-sailing  trim-built  cutter,  with  very  good  cabin,  took  us  over  in 
the  course  of  the  night  ;  in  the  morning  we  were  lying  off,  waiting 
for  water  to  cross  the  bar  ;  but  my  father  took  me  in  a  boat,  a  pull  of 
about  two  miles,  to  the  Pigeon  House.  As  well  as  I  remember,  our 
visit  in  Dublin  was  to  my  grandfather,  a  venerable  old  gentleman, 
one  of  the  most  respectable  tradesmen  in  the  city,  and  greatly  es- 
teemed as  the  father  of  the  corporation.  In  ray  short  visit  there  was 
much  to  impress  my  boyish  readiness  to  see  wonders  in  every  novelty. 
The  city  itself,  its  squares  and  streets,  so  proudly  vaunted  by  my  re- 
lations, Dame  Street,  Sackville  Street,  Stephen's  Green,  the  buildings 
—  Custom  House,  Four  Courts,  Rotundo  —  were  all  sights  to  me; 
but  Christ  Church  and  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral  interested  me  more, 
by  the  banners  of  the  knights  in  the  one  and  the  tomb  of  Strongbow 
in  the  other,  than  the  unsightly  building  called  the  Castle  of  Werbmy  h 
Church,  which  was  spoken  of  with  peculiar  reverence,  because  at- 
tended by  the  Lord  Lieutenant.  I  was  taken  twice  to  the  theater, 
once  on  the  occasion  of  a  command,  and  saw  there  actors  whom  in 
my  own  professional  days  I  met  again  —  Holman  R.  Jones  of  Co- 
vent  Garden,  and  others,  who  remained  like  limpets  stuck  to  the 


1793-1803.  ADVENTURE  AT  CHESTER.  1 

Dublin  Theater.  My  grandfather  at  parting  gave  me  a  present  which 
was  laid  out  in  plate  for  me  by  my  dear  mother,  and  my  uncle  pre- 
sented me  with  Leland's  "  History  of  Ireland,"  in  three  volumes, 
which  still  keeps  its  place  in  my  library. 

We  re-crossed  to  Holyhead  on  our  return  ;  our  journey  was  marked 
by  no  event  that  rested  on  my  memory  beyond  the  draught  I  took  of 
St.  Winifred's  Well  at  Holywell,  and  the  avidity  with  which  I  lis- 
tened to  the  number  of  gallons  it  gave  out  per  hour,  and  the  innumer- 
able cures  it  effected,  attested  as  they  were  by  the  crutches  suspended 
as  votive"  offerings  beneath  the  groined  arches  of  the  Gothic  roof  above 
it.  At  Chester,  the  races  completely  filled  the  city  ;  the  streets  were 
swarming  as  we  passed  through.  Wishing  to  see  friends  of  my 
mother's,  Captain  and  Mrs.  Harrison,  who  lived  a  mile  out  of  the 
town,  my  father  drove  to  their  house,  and  giving  the  post-boy  a  very 
large  fee  to  see  the  luggage  put  on  another  chaise,  sent  me  back  in  the 
chaise  to  the  hotel  to  take  care  that  the  luggage  was  all  rightly  trans- 
ferred. The  post-boy  called  for  horses,  but  not  a  horse  was  to  be  had 

—  "  None  in  "  was  the  answer  at  the  hotel ;  he  unharnessed  his  own 
pair,  and  left  me  with  the  luggage  in  and  on  the  chaise  exposed  in  the 
open  and  crowded  steeet.   My  agony  lest  the  luggage  should  be  stolen 
and  my  fear  of  my  father's  displeasure  were  great.     I  went  —  obliged 
to  leave  the  chaise  —  into  the  stables  at<a  distance  down  some  dirty 
lanes,  and  with  tears  implored  the  post-boy  to  get  me  horses  ;  but  he 
had  got  his  recompense,  and  repelled  me  very  brutally.     At  the  hotel 
they  were  too  much  engaged  to  attend  to  me.     What  to  do  I  did  not 
know ;  in  despair  at  last  I  set  off  upon  as  fast  a  run  as  I  could  make 

—  dreading  to  see  my  father,  but  with  no  alternative  —  not  knowing 
my  way,  but  with  a  faint  guess  at  the  direction  in  which  it  lay,  and  re- 
membering the  slated  side  of   Captain  Harrison's  house.     The   day 
was  a  broiling  one.     Of  some  of  the  most  good-natured  looking  I  in- 
quired my  way,  but  unsatisfactorily ;  still  I  ran  on,  my  face  streaming 
with  perspiration,  and  at  last  caught  sight  of  the  slated  side.     My 
mother  was  astonished  at  my  condition,  bathed  in  tears  as  I  was,  and 
soothing  my  agitation,  bade  me  explain  it  all  to  my  father,  who  re- 
ceived the  news  very  indulgently,  and  going  down  to  the  town,  after  a 
long  absence  returned  with  a  chaise  which  he  had  great  difficulty  in 
procuring. 

Birmingham  was  the  most  important  of  the  towns  of  which  my 
father  held  the  theaters,  and  there  we  soon  arrived.  The  summer 
months  were  passed  there,  diversified  by  a  short  stay  at  Leamington, 
then  a  small  village,  consisting  only  of  a  few  thatched  houses,  not  one 
tiled  or  slated,  the  Bowling-green  Inn  being  the  only  one  where  very 
moderate  accommodation  could  be  procured.  There  was  in  process  of 
erection  an  hotel  of  more  pretension,  which  I  fancy  was  to  be  the 
Dog  or  Greyhound,  but  which  had  some  months  of  work  to  fit  it  for 
reception  of  guests.  We  had  the  parlor  and  bedrooms  of  a  huckster's 
shop,  the  best  accommodation  in  the  place,  and  used  each  morning  to 
walk  down  to  the  spring  across  the  church-yard  with  our  little  mugs  in 
our  hands  for  our  daily  draught  of  the  Leamington  waters. 


8  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  I. 

The  time  arrived  for  my  departure  to  Rugby,  and  to  me,  though  I 
li:nl  been  on  a  visit  there  at  my  cousin's  a  year  before,  it  was  a  dn-arv 
prospect.  The  accounts  I  had  heard  of  the  severity  practised,  the 
numbers  amongst  whom  I  should  be  cast,  the  utter  ignorance  of  the 
usages  there,  the  want  of  sympathetic  counsel  —  for  my  father  was  him-1 
self  uninformed  on  such  subjects  —  all  weighed  on  me  with  feelings 
of  dread  and  depression,  of  which  a  life's  events  have  not  obliterated 
the  recollection.  My  parting  \yith  my  dear  mother  was  to  me  a  sad 
one,  the  last  living  look  1  had  of  her  on  earth.  My  father  took  me  in 
a  gig  to  Coventry,  and  thence  in  a  chaise  to  Rugby.  When  left  there, 
at  my  cousin  Birch's  boarding-house,  I  was  indeed  alone.  Most  for- 
tunately I  had  a  bedroom,  roomy  and  commodious,  almost  to  myself. 
One  of  my  cousins  slept  there,  but  scarcely  ever  intruded  on  my  soli- 
tude ;  for  having  no  cupboard  in  k'  the  Hall "  to  keep  my  books,  I  had 
my  little  library,  consisting  of  an  abridgment  of  Plutarch's  Lives, 
Tooke's  "  Pantheon,"  Pope's  Homer,  the  "  History  of  Ireland,"  and 
Mentor's  "Letters  to  Youth" — the  last  parting  gift  of  my  beloved 
mother  —  in  my  bedroom  ;  and  used  to  read  over  and  over  the  well- 
conned  pages  of  these  volumes,  all  of  which  except  the  "  Pantheon  " 
I  to  this  day  possess.  My  fears  of  the  severity  with  which  I  had  been 
threatened  made  me  diligent,  and  the  work  seemed  to  me  easy  — 
being  kept  back  from  the  «place  I  should  have  occupied  in  the  school 
under  the  necessity  of  perfecting  myself  in  the  "  Propria  qua?  man- 
bus,"  "  Quae  genus,"  and  "  As  in  prresenti "  of  the  Eton  Grammar. 
Arithmetic  was  no  task  to  me,  having  been  put  back  to  the  rule  of 
three,  and  being  really  more  advanced  than  any  even  of  the  sixth  form 
in  that  all-important  branch  of  knowledge,  of  which  I  lost  much  at 
Rugby  that  I  had  acquired  at  Edgells. 

I  was  the  last  but  three  on  the  school-list,  "  Macready,  Daniel,  Fos- 
brooke,  Wright,"  ended  the  callings-over.  The  system  of  bullying 
seemed  to  have  banished  humanity  from  most  of  the  boys  above  me, 
or  rather  of  those  between  me  and  the  highest  forms.  I  was  fag  to  a 
young  man  of  the  name  of  Ridge,  an  Irishman,  who  was  a  very  harsh 
ta>k-master ;  and  I  was  made  so  uncomfortable  in  the  common  Hall, 
that  but  for  the  refuge  of  my  own  snug  bedroom  I  should  have  been 
utterly  despondent.  As  it  was,  I  wrote  such  letters  home  that  my 
father  more  than  once  thought  he  must  send  for  me.  But  my  dear 
mother's  representations,  that  I  fared  only  in  common  with  other  boys, 
and  that  her  cousin  Birch  would  not  suffer  me  to  be  ill-treated,  sub- 
dued my  father's  uneasiness.  Yet,  from  the  bullying  endured,  the 
first  year  of  my  term  was  real  misery,  so  that  my  lessons,  in  which  I 
was  always  perfect,  so  easy  were  they  to  me,  became  something  like  a 
refuge  to  me.  After  surmounting  the  difficulties  of  the  Eton  Gram- 
mar, my  course  through  the  school  was  rapid  beyond  precedent.  I 
attained  the  fifth  form  in  three  years,  from  which  advance  I  began  to 
be  sensible  of  a  certain  enjoyment  of  my  position. 

In  the  early  period  of  my  Rugby  course  Dr.  Inglis  was  the  head- 
master :  a  pale,  ascetic-looking  man,  whose  deportment  was  grave,  dig- 


1793-1808.  DR.  INGLIS  —  FAGGING.  9 

nified,  and  awe-inspiring:  the  clicking  of  the  latch  of  the  door  by 
which  he  entered  the  Upper  Schoolroom  instantly  produced  a  silence 
like  a  chill,  and  the  "  boldest  held  his  breath  for  a  time."  It  was  in 
the  deepest  hush  of  both  Upper  and  Lower  Schools  that  the  sound  of 
his  tread  was  distinctly  heard,  or  that  his  voice  echoed  through  the 
halls,  as  he  gave  out  on  a  Thursday  morning  the  name  or  names  of  the 
boys  whose  exercises  entitled  them  to  the  honor  of  "  Play,"  i.  e.  of 
obtaining  for  the  school  one  of  the  half-holidays  of  the  week. 

To  give  some  idea  of  the  abuse  of  power  by  the  praepostors,  or 
sixth-form  boys,  an  incident  at  the  very  beginning  of  my  school  days 
will  be  sufficient.  One  morning,  in  passing  through  the  schools,  "  the 
Doctor,"  or  "  Inglis "  —  according  to  whom  his  title  might  be  ad- 
dressed —  was  followed  by  a  boy  about  fourteen  years  of  age,  in  deep 
mourning.  This  boy,  whose  name  was  Crowther,  had  been  expelled 
the  half-year  before,  and  on  this  occasion  the  Doctor  read  a  letter  from 
him  (generally  believed  to.  be  in  his  mother's  writing)  expressing  his 
contrition  for  his  fault,  mentioning  his  aggravated  distress  under  the 
recent  loss  of  his  father,  and  begging  to  be  restored.  The  letter 
brought  tears  into  the  eyes  of  several  of  the  boys,  and  Inglis  pro- 
nounced his  public  pardon  and  his  restoration  to  his  place.  His  offense 
was  having  been  sent  (fagged)  by  his  (praepostor)  master  to  Grime's 
Spinnys,  about  two  and  a  half  miles  distant,  to  steal  ash-plants  to  be 
beaten  with.  There  was  no  resource  —  he  was  seen  by  Inglis  as  he 
passed  in  his  carriage,  and  being  questioned  "  who  had  sent  him,"  he 
refused  to  give  the  name  of  his  tyrant.  A  box  on  the  ear  was  the 
punishment  of  his  contumacy,  and  on  his  saying  he  "  was  not  to  be 
struck,"  and  persisting  in  his  refusal  to  give  up  the  name  of  his  supe- 
rior, he  underwent  immediate  expulsion.  One  of  the  a  short 

time  before  had  held  the  back  of  his  fag  to  the  fire  so  long  in  torture, 
that  the  poor  fellow,  who  was  still  during  my  time  at  school  in  the 
fourth  form,  was  seriously  ill,  and  his  brutal  master  severely  flogged 
for  his  atrocious  conduct. 

The  longest  day,  however,  will  have  an  end,  and  though  the  short 
half-year  was  so  unhappily  lengthened  to  me,  it  reached  the  holidays 
at  last ;  and  with  a  party  in  a  chaise  I  arrived  at  Leicester,  where  I 
was  to  sleep  at  a  friend's  house  that  night,  Saturday,  I  remember,  and 
to  proceed  in  the  Leeds  mail  next  morning  to  Sheffield,  where  my 
father's  company  was  then  performing.  The  mail  I  had  for  the  whole 
long  journey  to  myself,  dining  by  myself  at  the  Black's  Head,  in  Not- 
tingham "andj  but  for  the  thought  that  every  mile  brought  me  nearer 
home,  the  day  would  have  been  a  melancholy  one.  We  had  left 
Leicester  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  eleven  at  night  was  the 
time  at  which  we  reached  Sheffield  —  a  journey  which  in  the  present 
day  would  occupy,  I  fancy,  about  two  hours,  or  two  hours  and  a  half! 
I  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  my  father's  lodgings  in  Norfolk  Street, 
and  on  inquiring  for  my  parents,  was  taken  up  to  my  father,  who  was 
in  bed,  and,  as  they  told  me,  ill.  He  had  not  expected  me,  having 
written  to  our  friend  at  Leicester  to  detain  me  there  some  days.  I 


10  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CUAP  L 

asked  for  my  clear  mother,  and  he  told  me  she  was  gone  away  for  a 
little,  and  that  I  could  not  see  her  that  night  The  night  was  one  of 
thoughtless  rest  to  me ;  but  the  morning  brought  with  it  tidings  of  an 
event  that  has  been  ever  since  a  memory  of  sorrow  to  me.  That 
mother  whom  I  had  so  longed  to  see,  so  dear,  so  precious,  was  gone 
indeed.  My  father  informed  me  that  she  had  died  the  day  before  my 
return.  I  had  the  mournful  comfort  of  looking  on  her  in  her  placid 
sleep,  and  through  succeeding  years  that  image  of  tranquility  and  love 
has  not  left  me.  It  was  a  house  of  mourning  in  which  my  holidays 
were  spent.  I  followed  her  to  the  grave,  which  I  have  often,  always 
in  passing  through  Sheffield,  remembered  and  revisited.  In  a  news- 
paper of  that  period  these  lines  were  published  shortly  after  her 
death  :  — 

"  The  following  impromptu  will  not  be  deemed  inappropriate,  as  it  is  written 
from  the  heart,  in  the  full  force  of  its  feelings,  by  one  who  knew  her  well,  and  who 
faithfully  declares  that  however  deficient  it  may  be  in  poetical  merit  he  has  not 
deviated  in  a  single  line  from  the  rigid  maxim  of  De  mortuis  nil  nisi  vmnn.' 

"  EPITAPH 

"  ON  MRS.  MACREADY,  WHO   DEPARTED  THIS  LIFE  ox  THE  3D  OF 
"DECEMBER,  1803. 

"  If 't  is  decreed  the  virtuous  and  the  just 
Shall  rise  to  bliss  triumphant  from  the  dust, 
And  human  forms  shall  from  this  dross  refine 
To  join  the  ethereal  host  in  forms  divine, 
Then  shall  those  dear  corporeal  remains, 
"Which  now  the  cold  and  silent  grave  contains, 
Once  more  embrace  that  soul,  which  heaven  approved 
.(Though  sharply  chastened  as  it  dearly  loved), 
That  mind,  where  virtue  fixed  her  seated  reign, 
Yet  probed  its  votary  with  disease  and  pain  ; 
That  head,  which  framed  no  base  insidious  wile, 
Friend  to  deceive  or  enemy  to  beguile  ; 
That  hand,  whose  frugal  and  domestic  care 
Still  saved  a  surplus  for  the  poor  to  share  : 
That  heart,  which  self-indulgence  oft  withstood 
T'  enjoy  the  '  luxury  of  doing  good.' 
That  soul,  that  minil,  that  head,  that  hand  and  heart, 
Then  re-united,  never  more  to  part, 
All  glorious  rising,  shall  enraptured  sing, 
'  Whore,  Grave,  thy  victory  ?     Where,  Death,  thy  sting  ? ' 
And  those,  her  nearest  and  her  dearest,  left, 
Of  their  most  valued  friend  on  earth  bereft  — 
If  haply  left  to  shape  their  future  lives 
By  the  best  mother  and  the  best  of  wives, 
Tracing  her  footsteps  through  this  world  of  cares, 
And  making  her  revered  example  theirs, 
When  they  have  '  shuffled  off  this  mortal  coil,' 
And  passed  life's  rugged  pilgrimage  and  toil, 
Shall  to  her  blessed  abode  then  wing  their  wav, 
And,  spurning  the  grim  tyrant's  ended  swav, 
Share  her  bright  crown  in  realms  of  endless'day." 

My  return  to  Rugby  soon  began  to  make  me,  as  it  were,  more  accli- 


1793-1808.  SCHOOL   THEATRICALS.  11 

mated  to  its  atmosphere,  and  I  now  began  my  rapid  rush  through  the 
school.  One  amusement  of  the  bigger  boys  was  in  getting  up  plays, 
which  were  acted  to  their  school-fellows  in  one  of  the  boarding-houses, 
Bucknill's.  They  were  very  fairly  done,  only  that  it  was  necessary  at 
the  end  of  every  scene  to  drop  the  curtain  in  order  to  change  one  for 
another.  In  the  course  of  time  these  plays  were  removed  to  a  sort  of 
hall  at  the  School-house  called  the  "  Over  School,"  the  reading  and  sit- 
ting-room of  the  School-house  fifth  and  sixth  form  boys.  It  opened 
into  a  large  bedroom,  which  went  by  the  name  of  "  Paradise,"  with 
nine  beds  appropriated  to  the  head  boys,  and  was  very  convenient  to 
the  actors  for  dressing  and  undressing.  The  actors  in  these  plays  made 
application  through  me  to  my  father  for  the  loan  of  books,  and  after- 
wards for  dresses,  with  which,  to  their  great  delight,  he  readily  fur- 
nished them.  In  grateful  testimony  they  considered  themselves  obliged 
to  give  me,  although  in  the  Under  School,  parts  in  their  performances, 
and  my  theatrical  career  at  Rugby  was  begun  as  prompter  —  a  distin- 
guished post  for  an  Under  School  boy  ;  and  I  ran  through  the  charac- 
ters of  Dame  Ashfield  in  "  Speed  the  Plough,"  Mrs.  Brulgruddery  in 
"  John  Bull,"  the  Jew  in  Dibdin's  "  School  for  Prejudice,"  and  Brief- 
wit  in  the  farce  of  "  Weathercock." 

When  Dr.  Inglis  retired  from  the  head  mastership,  to  be  succeeded 
by  Dr.  Wooll,  I  had  made  some  progress  in  the  school,  having  reached 
the  fifth  form.  I  recollect  one  day,  when  playing  at  foot-ball  in  the 
school  close,  Dr.  Inglis  was  walking  on  the  gravel  walk  that  sui-rounds 
it.  He  called  me  to  him,  and  desiring  hie  to  "  keep  on  my  hat,"  con- 
tinued his  walk  with  me  by  his  side.  He  inquired  of  me  what  my 
father  designed  for  me.  I  told  him  that  I  was  intended  for  the  law. 
He  continued : 

'  Have  you  not  thought  of  your  father's  profession  ?  " 

'  No,  sir." 

'  Should  you  not  like  it  ?  " 

'  No,  sir,  I  should  wish  to  go  to  the  bar." 

'  Are  you  quite  certain  you  should  not  wish  to  go  on  the  stage  ?  " 

'  Quite  certain,  sir  ;  I  very  much  dislike  it,  and  the  thought  of  it." 

'  Well,"  he  added,  "  I  am  glad  of  it.  But  if  you  had  had  any 
thoughts  that  way  I  should  have  wished  to  give  you  some  advice,  which 
I  am  glad  to  believe  is  now  unnecessary." 

I  held  him  in  great  respect,  and  like.d  him  very  much,  stern  and  in- 
accessible as  he  seemed  to  all  of  us.  During  his  term  of  office  the 
subject  of  the  French  invasion  engrossed  all  thoughts,  and  monopolized 
conversation.  The  whole  country  was  armed,  drilled,  and  well  accou- 
tered,  and  Rugby  furnished  its  two  companies  of  well-equipped,  well- 
marshaled  volunteers.  The  elder  boys  had  their  blue  coats  cuffed  and 
collared  with  scarlet,  and  exercised  after  school-hours  with  heavy  wooden 
broadswords.  Nothing  was  talked  of  but  Bonaparte  and  invasion. 
Suddenly  a  wonderful  boy,  a  miracle  of  beauty,  grace,  and  genius, 
who  had  acted  in  Belfast  and  Edinburgh,  became  the  theme  of  all  dis- 
course. My  father  had  brought  him  to  England,  and  his  first  engage- 


12  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  I. 

ment  was  at  Birmingham,  where  crowded  houses  applauded  his  sur- 
prising powers  to  the  very  echo.  In  London,  at  both  Drury  Lane  and 
Covent  Garden  Theaters,  throughout  the  whole  country,  "  the  young 
Roscius  "  became  a  rage,  and  in  the  furore  of  public  admiration  the 
invasion  ceased  to  be  spoken  of.  He  acted  two  nights  at  Leicester, 
and  on  a  half-holiday,  my  cousin  Birch  having  sent  a  note  to  excuse 
me  and  his  eldest  son  from  the  afternoon's  callings-over,  at  my  father's 
request  Tom  Birch  and  myself  were  smuggled  into  a  chaise,  and  reached 
Leicester  in  time  for  the  play  — "  Richard  III."  The  house  was 
crowded.  John  Kemble  and  II.  Harris,  son  of  the  Patentee  of  Covent 
Garden,  sat  in  the  stage  box  immediately  behind  us.  I  remember  John 
Kemble's  handkerchief  strongly  scented  of  lavender,  and  his  observa- 
tion, in  a  very  compassionate  tone,  "  Poor  boy  !  he  is  very  hoarse."  I 
could  form  little  judgment  of  the  performance,  which  excited  universal 
enthusiasm,  and  in  the  tempest  of  which  we  were  of  course  borne 
along.  In  subsequent  engagements  with  my  father  we  became  play- 
fellows, and  off  the  stage  W.  H.  West  Betty  was  a  boy  with  boys,  as 
full  of  spirits,  fun,  and  mischief  as  any  of  his  companions,  though  ca- 
ressed, fondled,  and  idolized  by  peeresses,  and  actually  besieged  for  a 
mere  glimpse  of  him  by  crowds  at  his  hotel  door.  An  instance  of  the 
"  madness  that  ruled  the  hour "  was  given  at  Dunchurch,  where  he 
stopped  to  dine  and  sleep,  being  prevented  from  acting  at  Coventry  in 
Passion  Week  by  Cornwallis,  Bishop  of  Lichfield  and  Coventry.  One 
of  the  leading  families  in  the  county,  who  were  on  their  way  to  Cov- 
entry to  see  him,  were  stopped  by  the  news  at  Dunchurch.  The  lady 
begged  and  entreated  the  landlord  to  get  her  a  sight  of  "  the  young 
Roscius."  She  would  "  give  anything."  The  landlord,  unwilling  to 
disoblige  his  patrons,  suggested  that  there  was  but  one  way  in  which 
her  wish  could  be  gratified  :  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Betty  and  their  son  were 
just  going  to  dinner,  and  if  she  chose  to  carry  in  one  of  the  dishes  she 
could  see  him,  but  there  was  no  other  way."  The  lady,  very  grateful 
in  her  acknowledgments,  took  the  dish,  and  made  one  of  the  waiters 
at  table.  I  mention  this  as  one  among  the  numerous  anecdotes  of  his 
popularity.  The  Prince  of  Wales  make  him  handsome  presents,  and 
in  short  he  engrossed  all  tongues.  After  the  play  at  Leicester  Tom 
Birch  ami  myself  got  into  our  chaise,  and  traveling  through  the  night, 
reached  Rugby  in  good  time  for  "  first  lesson  "  in  the  morning.1 

It  has  been  said,  and  I  believe,  it,  that  if  the  humblest  in  the  social 
scale  were  to  note  down  accurately  the  events  of  his  life,  the  impres- 
sions he  had  received,  and  the  real  motives  that  actuated  him  in  all 
he  might  have  done,  the  narration  would  convey  instruction,  if  not  en- 
tertainment This  rough  draft  of  the  incidents  of  my  life  may  never 
go  beyond  the  circle  of  my  own  family,  but  in  remarking  the  cause  of 
those  errors,  which  will  be  found  to  abound  in  it,  whether  originating 
in  myself,  induced  by  culpable  example,  or  resulting  from  mistaken  in- 
struction, lessons  may  be  learned  and  experience  obtained  that  may 

i  The  "  Young  Roscius "   survived    Macrcady,  and    died    in    London,   24th 
August,  1874,  in  his  83d  year.  —  ED. 


1793-1808.  CORPORAL  PUNISHMENT.  13 

serve  as  beacons  to  those  I  love  and  leave  behind  me,  and  which  may 
prove,  as  I  pray  to  God  they  may,  in  some  slight  degree  expiatory  of 
the  faults  here  registered.  With  this  purpose  in  view  I  have,  after 
some  deliberation,  resolved  not  to  omit  even  those  trifling  circumstances 
of  my  boyhood  to  which  may  be  traced  some  of  the  delinquencies  of 
my  maturer  life.  "  The  childhood  shows  the  man,  as  morning  shows 
the  day,"  and  in  the  misfortune  of  that  temper  which  through  life  has 
been  the  cause  of  my  greatest  unhappiness,  and  with  which  I  have 
struggled  so  repeatedly,  I  see  in  its  early  outbreaks  the  prognostics 
of  those  ebullitions  of  passion  that  have  so  frequently  caused  me  great 
suffering,  and  have  brought  with  them  deep  repentance.  But  none 
deceive  us  so  much  as  we  ourselves,  and  with  all  my  earnest  resolves, 
I  may  very  possibly,  though  undesignedly,  in  relation  color  facts  in 
tenderness  to  my  own  portion  of  blame,  or  view  in  the  light  of  preju- 
dice the  conduct  of  others  engaged  with  me.  Let  me  hope  that  I  shall 
hold  to  that  severe  rule  of  truth  which  I  have  always  labored  to  incul- 
cate in  you,  my  dear  children. 

The  rapidity  of  my  onward  course  in  the  school  was  unchecked  ;  but 
the  spirit  with  which  I  worked  at  my  advancement  became  darkened 
by  an  occurrence  that  reduced  me  to  a  level  which  I  had  gloried  in 
feeling  myself  above.  The  question  has  been  long  disputed  of  the 
effect  produced  on  boys  by  corporeal  punishment.  How  long  it  may 
be  necessary  where  minds  are  insensible  to  better  influences,  I  cannot 
say  ;  but  where  emulation  exists,  and  the  ambition  that  must  pre-sup- 
pose  a  dread  and  horror  of  disgrace  glows  in  a  youthful  breast,  I  am 
confident  the  degradation  of  corporal  punishment  may  not  unfre- 
quently  excite  a  feeling  of  desperate  recklessness,  bring  about  the  sub- 
version of  all  better  principles,  and  break  down  a  barrier  against  evil 
that  may  possibly  never  be  re-established. 

In  the  expression  of  this  opinion  I  am  not  going  to  offer  any  pallia- 
tion of  my  own  misdoings,  but  to  recall  the  facts  as  they  occurred.  I 
had  reached  the  top  of  the  lower  fourth  form  without  the  disgrace  of 
corporal  punishment,  and  it  was  thought  by  the  boys  around  me,  and 
it  was  one  hope  of  my  ambition,  that  I  should  pass  through  the  school 
unscathed  personally  or  morally  by  this  degrading  infliction.  One 
morning  the  news  current  in  the  boy's  hall  at  our  boarding-house  (my 
cousin  Birch's)  was  the  "  great  fun  "  of  the  preceding  evening,  when  a 

boy,  half  a  fool,  of  the  name  of  J ,  had  been  made  drunk  by , 

,  and ,  with  the  Hall  beer,  and  Had  exhibited  most  ridiculous 

antics,  to  their  great  amusement.  "  The  fun  "  was  to  be  repeated  the 
following  night,  and  I  with  some  others,  who  had  not  been  present, 
went  into  the  Hall,  after  locking  up,  to  see  what  was  proceeding.  The 
boys  plied  the  foolish  fellow  with  mugs  of  the  "  swipes,"  and  then 
hustled  him  about  to  accelerate  the  effects  of  his  draughts.  I  had  no 
hand  whatever  in  the  business.  The  result  was  that  the  boy  was  very 
sick,  and  the  affair  was  repeated  to  Birch.  The  boy  in  his  stupefied 
state  was  questioned,  and  he  gave  my  name  with  those  of  the  real  de- 
linquents. I  was  afterwards  informed  that  my  name  was  sent  up  to 


U  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  I. 

Dr.  Inglis,  on  which  I  went  to  Birch  to  protest  my  innocence,  and  to 
offer  testimony  to  the  fact  that  my  culpability  was  that  of  many  others, 
namely,  being  present  on  the  occasion.  Birch  very  sternly  repelled 
me,  telling  me  I  might  explain  to  Dr.  Inglis  what  I  had  to  say.  The 
pra-postor  the  next  day  at  lessons  came  for  me,  and  I  was  conducted  by 
him  to  the  Doctor's  School,  where  the  condemned  were.  I  assured 
the  Doctor  that  I  was  free  from  any  participation  in  the  offense  beyond 
being  present.  His  answer  \v:ts,  "  Macready,  I  am  very  sorry  to  see 
you  here,  but  Mr.  Birch  has  'sent  you  up'  (the  term  in  use)  and  I 
must  whip  you."  Returning  to  my  form  smarting  with  choking  rage 
and  indignation,  where  I  had  to  encounter  the  compassion  of  some  and 
the  envious  jeers  of  others,  my  passion  broke  out  in  the  exclamation, 
"  D — n  old  Birch  !  I  wish  ho  was  in  h — !  " 

I  \vas  now  indeed  criminal;  but  I  felt  as  if  I  cared  for  nothing. 
AVilliam  Birch,  my  tutor's  son  and  my  third  cousin,  was  present,  and 
would,  I  knew,  report  me  to  his  father,  which  I  fancy  I  almost  wished. 
Mv  anguish  and  the  fury  of  my  heart  blinded  me  to  everything  else. 
It  had  been  Birch's  custom  to  have  me  every  Sunday  to  "  dine  in  the 
parlor,"  a  very  great  indulgence ;  but  this  was  only  one  among  the 
many  proofs  he  gave  me  of  his  partiality  to  me.  On  the  following 
Sunday  as  we  took  our  places  at  dinner  in  the  Hall,  where  Mrs.  Birch 
superintended  the  distribution  of  the  fare,  the  man-servant  came  to 
me  with  the  usual  message,  "  Macready,  you  are  to  dine  in  the 
parlor."  I  would  not  stir.  He  repeated  his  message  three  or  four 
times,  till  I  said,  "  I  shall  not  go  ;  "  when  Mrs.  Birch  took  the  word  : 
"  Let  him  alone,  Thomas,  if  he  does  n't  choose."  Thenceforward  I 
felt  indifferent  what  might  befall  me.  I  could  not  have  gone  into  the 
parlor  after  what  I  had  been  guilty  of  saying  of  my  benefactor,  and  I 
joined  with  other  boys  in  pranks  that  I  should  before  have  been  care- 
ful to  avoid.  It  is  an  evil  sign  in  our  nature,  which  I  could  not  but 
perceive,  that  it  was  an  evident  satisfaction  to  some  among  them  that 
I  had  fallen  from  my  "  pride  of  place."  I  learnt  my  lessons,  because 
they  were  easy  to  me,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  I  was  trans- 
lated to  the  upper  fourth,  my  cousin  Birch's  form. 

He  was  the  most  severe,  but  the  most  liked  of  all  the  masters. 
Hi-  undeviating  system  was,  if  a  boy,  called  up  at  lesson,  made  a  mis- 
take, to  give  him  a  light  imposition ;  upon  a  second  omission  he  in- 
creased the  imposition ;  upon  a  third  the  inexorable  words  were,  >%  Sit 
down,  you  need  not  do  your 'punishments."  The  name  was  given  to 
the  praepostor  of  the  form,  and  the  incapable  was  flogged.  I  went 
with  dread  to  take  my  place  in  his  form.  With  stern  rigor  he  blended 
encouragement,  and  each  Saturday  those  boys  who  had  acquitted  them- 
selves well  during  the  week  were  "sent  up  for  good."  "To  be  sent 
up  for  good "  was  to  receive  through  the  praepostor  of  the  form  six- 
pence in  the  Lower  School,  and  a  shilling  the  Upper;  and  it  became 
almost  a  regular  income  to  me  to  receive  two  and  three  shilling  .1 
week  as,  charged  in  the  bills,  "  merit  money."  He  had  never  spoken 
to  me  since  my  disgrace,  and  it  was  with  astonishment  I  learned  from 


1793-1808.  FIGHT   WITH  A  BULLY.  15 

the  praepostor  on  the  first  Saturday  that  I  was  "  sent  up  for  good," 
and  was  the  only  one  in  the  form  so  distinguished. 

Some  time  after  my  father  passed  through  Rugby,  and  of  course 
went  to  see  Birch.  I  was  sent  for  into  the  parlor,  and  there  my  dear 
and  good  friend  (for  such  he  was  to  his  dying  day)  related  to  my 
father  with  tears  in  his  eyes  my  behavior.  I  had  been  guiltless  of  the 
first  offense,  which,  the  poor  half-idiot  lad  had  acknowledged  after- 
wards ;  but  the  belief  of  Birch  had  been  that  the  beer  had  been 
drugged,  that  tobacco  had  been  put  into  it  for  the  purpose  of  intoxi- 
cating the  boy,  without  which  the  offense  could  scarcely  have  been 
considered  a  penal  one,  and  in  his  anger,  which  was  sometimes  hasty, 
he  would  not  pause  for  inquiry.  I  repeated  the  assurance  of  my  in- 
nocence of  the  fault  ascribed  to  me,  and  with  an  overcharged  heart 
expressed  my  contrition  for  my  ungrateful  forgetfulness  of  all  his  kind- 
ness to  me.  It  was  understood  that  he  forgave  me,  and  I  returned  to 
a  better  sense  of  my  duty.  I  was  afterwards  occasionally,  and  not 
unfrequently,  invited  into  the  parlor,  but  the  regular  Sunday  dinners, 
where  I  was  as  one  of  his  family,  were  not  resumed.  I  may  say  with 
one  of  Cumberland's  characters,  "  My  passions  were  my  masters,"  and 
even  in  reaching  the  "  years  that  bring  the  philosophic  mind  "  I  have 
had  to  continue  the  conflict  with  them. 

It  was  in  the  lower  fourth  form  an  incident  occurred  which  caused 
some  amusement  in  the  school.  Upon  some  absurd  pretense  a  very 

bullying  boy,  by  name  B ,  affected  to  take  umbrage  at  some 

words  or  action  (I  remember  we  could  not  divine  the  meaning  of  his 
irritation)  alleged  by  him  against  myself  and  another  of  our  house, 
Jeston,  on  which  he  sent  us  a  challenge  to  fight  us  both  together  that 
evening.  Being  both  of  us  of  his  own  age  and  size,  it  seemed  exces- 
sively ridiculous,  and  in  accepting  his  cartel  I  told  Jeston  that  I 
would  fight  him  first,  and  if  he  thrashed  me,  he  should  then  take  his 
turn.  We  went  after  the  last  evening  lesson  to  the  ground  appointed, 

but  met  no  one.  At  night  B> •  sent  me  a  note  (we  were  all  in  the 

same  boarding-house)  to  the  effect  that  on  reflection  he  withdrew  the 
challenge  of  fighting  both  together,  but  that  he  would  fight  us  one  after 
the  other  after  dinner  the  next  day.  My  answer  informed  him  that 
such  had  been  my  intention,  and  that  we  would  give  him  the  meeting 
in  the  field  proposed.  The  next  day,  after  I  saw  him  with  his  second 
quit  the  dinner-table,  I  rose,  and,  nudging  Jeston,  who  stuck  to  his 
mutton,  followed  with  my  second  to  Caldecot's  Close;  We  took  our 
ground ;  I  was  perfectly  collected,  and  did  not  fear  my  adversary. 
Without  the  least  injury  to  myself,  in  five  rounds  he  was  sufficiently 
beaten  to  give  in,  and  the  event  made  a  roar  among  the  boys  at  calling- 
over,  when  reported  amongst  them.  It  was  an  attempt  to  bully  which 
met  a  proper  check.  The  year  1807  saw  a  change,  in  the  appoint- 
ment of  Dr.  Wooll  from  Midhurst,  to  the  headmastership.  Dr.  Inglis 
had  not  been  popular,  and  the  numbers,  which  had  sunk  considerably 
under  his  later  years,  received  a  very  considerable  accession  soon  after 
Wooll's  inauguration.  I  was  among  the  few  who  regretted  the  depart- 


16  MACREADY'S  RKM I \ LICENCES.  CHAP.  I. 

ure  of  Inglis,  and  it  is  only  justice  to  his  memory  to  remark  that  the 
preparation  for  a  lesson  to  be  said  to  him  tasked  the  diligence  and 
ability  of  his  scholars.  Dr.  Wooll  was  too  indulgent,  ami  with  such 
impunity  could  we  trifle  with  our  work,  that  I  have  taken  up  my 
Sophocles  with  the  leaves  uncut.  Seeing  me  cut  the  leaves  in  school, 
he  called  me  up,  and  dismissed  me  with  a  reprimand.  There  was  no 
longer  the  same  pressure  on  my  industry  to  which  I  had  been  accus- 
tomed under  Inglis,  and  in  time  I  became  so  sensible  of  my  retrogres- 
sion, that  I  set  myself  to  work  on  half-holidays  or  in  the  evenings  to 
make  translations  of  Homer  and  Virgil  with  such  notes  and  parallel 
passages  as  my  boyish  brain  could  furnish.  Occasionally  I  would 
smother  my  fire  with  ashes  under  the  grate,  "  ignes  suppositos  cineri 
doloso,"  to  deceive  the  servant  as  he  went  his  nightly  round  at  ten 
o'clock,  get  into  bed  with  my  clothes  on,  and  when  the  house  was  all 
asleep  would  get  up,  having  hung  up  clothes  to  prevent  the  light  being 
seen  in  my  window,  and  with  strong  tea,  which  I  made  in  my  room, 
sit  up  to  a  late  hour  working  at  my  Homer  or  "  Georgics." 

Dr.  Wooll  was  a  very  agreeable,  good-natured,  amiable,  pompous 
little  man.  I  think  of  him  with  great  regard ;  he  was  very  kind  to 
me,  and  greatly  liked  by  the  boys  of  gentlemanly  character.  Hut  he 
was  not  a  scholar,  and  the  preference  given  to  him  by  the  Trustees  in 
liis  competition  with  Dr.  Butler,  master  of  Shrewsbury  School,  after- 
wards bishop  of  Lichfield,  spoke  little  for  their  judgment.  Dr.  Wooll 
varied  our  compositions  by  introducing  English  verses  once  every 
month ;  he  gave  prizes  for  compositions  in  Latin  and  English  verse 
once  a  year,  and  to  test  the  elocutionary  powers  of  the  fifth  and  sixth 
forms,  gave  also  prizes  for  speaking.  The  latter  were  inconsiderable, 
but  the  novelty  gave  interest  to  them.  One  was  allotted  to  me  for 
the  first  scene  of  Hotspur  in  the  first  act  of  Shakespeare's  "  King 
Henry  IV.,"  and  I  was  selected  out  of  my  place  to  speak  at  the  June 
meeting  in  addition  to  the  twelve  first  boys.  He  gave  me  the  closet 
scene  in  "  Hamlet,"  with  Skeeles  as  the  Queen,  and  an  imaginary 
ghost.  I  remonstrated  with  him  upon  the  extreme  ditliculty  of  such 
a  scene,  and  he  silenced  me  by  saying,  "  If  I  had  not  intended  you  to 
do  something  extraordinary,  I  should  not  have  taken  you  out  of  your 
place."  Robinson,  Master  of  the  Temple,  Lord  llatherton  (ne  Wai- 
house,  and  the  late  Sir  G.  Ricketts,  were  the  best  speakers.1 

1  The  following  is  a  copy  of  one  of  the  cards,  held  by  an  old  gentleman  present 
at  the  meeting,  with  his  critical  notices  of  the  speakers  : 

RUGBY  SCHOOL. 

THE  SECOND  TUESDAY  IN  JUNE, 

1808. 

r   ,•    n  •     r>  »  (  Robinson  Major  (his  own 

Latin  Prue  Poem     .     .       Shakspcarus        ....  c.ompositionJ).  ErceVent. 

{Ric-ketts  Major  (his  own 
(•oin position).  ^J^J.y 
well  spoken. 


1793-1808.  MORE  ELABORATE   THEATRICALS.  17 

They  were  prominent  in  the  plays,  which  we  got  up  in  a  much 
more  expensive  style  than  in  Dr.  Inglis's  time,  and  with  great  com- 
pleteness. The  doctor  chose  to  ignore  our  proceedings,  and  we  even 
obtained  permission  to  act  them  to  audiences  invited  from  the  town 
and  neighborhood.  Our  first  play  was  the  "  Castle  Spectre,"  Robinson 
acting  Earl  Osmond,  "Walhouse  Hassan,  Ricketts  Earl  Percy,  Dickens 
(not  the  great  novelist)  Angela,  and  myself  Motley  and  Earl  Regi- 
nald. My  father  furnished  us  with  dresses  ;  and  the  scenery,  provided 
by  subscriptions  among  ourselves,  was  very  creditable  to  the  artist 
powers  of  Walhouse  and  Ricketts,  with  assistants.  Our  play  the  next 
year,  when  Robinson  and  Ricketts  had  left  for  the  Universities,  was 
Dr.  Young's  "  Revenge,"  with  the  farce  of  "  Two  Strings  to  your 
Bow."  This  was  acted  in  the  Doctor's  School  ;  as  usual,  first  to  the 
boys  on  the  afternoon  of  a  half-holiday,  and  a  second  time  at  night  to 
a  large  invited  assembly,  among  whom  the  masters  took  their  places. 
Walhouse  was  the  Alonzo  and  Ferdinand  ;  my  parts  were  Zanga  and 
Lazarillo.  The  success  was  great  ;  we  were  all  much  applauded,  and 
I  remember  the  remark  of  a  Mr.  Caldecot,  reported  to  me,  "  I  should 
be  uneasy  if  I  saw  a  son  of  mine  play  so  well."  I  had,  however,  no 
thought  of  this  but  as  an  amusement,  and  my  pride  would  have  been 
wounded  if  a  suspicion  had  been  hinted  that  I  could  regard  it  in  any 
other  light.  The  half  year  closed  with  speeches  before  an  auditory 
consisting  only  of  the  school  and  the  gentry  of  the  town.  My  place 
was  the  last  among  the  speakers,  and  I  can  now  remember  the  inward 
elevation  I  felt  in  marking,  as  I  slowly  rose  up,  the  deep  and  instant 
hush  that  went  through  the  whole  assembly  ;  I  recollect  the  conscious 
pride  I  felt,  as  the  creaking  of  my  shoes  came  audibly  to  my  ears 
whilst  I  deliberately  advanced  to  my  place  in  the  centre  of  the  school. 
My  speech  was  the  oration  of  Titus  Quintius,  translated  from  Livy. 
It  was  a  little  triumph  in  its  way,  but  the  last  I  was  doomed  to  obtain 
in  dear  old  Rugby. 

It  was  on  my  return  home  for  one  of  my  Christmas  holidays  that 
in  passing  through  Birmingham  I  found  the  manager  of  the  theater 
there  (which  my  father  had  relinquished  on  entering  on  his  Manchester 
speculation)  had  sent  tickets  for  a  box.  Conceiving  it  proper  that 

Rank  in  School.  SPEECHES. 

1  1  .  Mr.  Finch      .     .  .  Micipsa      .......  Sallust.     Ld-Ld. 

Hopkins      .  .  Adam  to  the  Archangel  .     .  Milton.    Ld-Ld. 

Burdon  .     .  .  Electra  .......  Sophocles.     Bad. 

Crawford     .  .  Chorus  in  "Caractacns"      .  Mason.     Horrible. 

Turner,  Ma.  .  Leonidas  .......  Glover.     Tolerable 

Butcher  .     .  .  Scipio  ........  Livy. 

Walhouse  .  .  Lord  Cromartic      ....  Slate  Trials.     Pretty  well. 

S  niton,  Ma.  .  JRneas  |  ,T.     .,      r,     •.  T 

Wratislaw.  .  Dido    \     .......  VirSlL     CaPltal- 

Skeeles  .     .  .  Queen       .......  j  Shakespeare. 

M'Cready,  Ma.  Hamlet     .......  }      Surprisingly  well  indeed. 

Ricketts,  Ma.  .  CEdipus    ........  Sophocles,      very  well. 


12. 

9. 

C. 

4. 

8. 
10. 

2. 

7. 

3. 
14. 

5. 


Robinson,  Ma.    Alexander's  Feast     .     .     .      j  D^j^      Very  excdlent 
2 


18  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  II. 

the  civility  should  be  acknowledged  by  the  appearance  of  some  of  our 
family,  I  went  with  one  of  my  sisters  and  a  friend.  "  Richer,  the 
Funambulist  ! "  was  the  large-lettered  attraction  of  the  play-bills. 
The  play  was  "  The  Busy-body,"  very  badly  acted,  and  the  after- 
piece a  serious  pantomime  on  the  ballad  of  "  Alonzo  and  Imogene." 
Richer  represented  the  Baron  "all  covered  with  jewels  and  gold," 
and  a  female  porpoise,  rejoicing  in  the  name  of  Watson,  being  the 
manager's  wife,  ungainly  and  tawdry,  was  the  caricature  of  the  "fair 
Imogene."  As  if  in  studied  contrast  to  this  enormous  "  hill  of  flesh," 
a  little  mean-looking  man,  in  a  shabby  green  satin  dress  (I  remember 
him  well),  appeared  as  the  hero,  Alonzo  the  Brave.  It  was  so  ridicu- 
lous that  the  only  impression  I  carried  away  was  that  the  hero  and 
heroine  were  the  worst  in  the  piece.  How  little  did  I  know,  or  could 
guess,  that  under  that  shabby  green  satin  dress  was  hidden  one  of  the 
most  extraordinary  theatrical  geniuses  that  have  ever  illustrated  the 
dramatic  poetry  of  England !  When,  some  years  afterwards,  public 
enthusiasm  was  excited  to  the  highest  pitch  by  the  appearance  at 
Drury  Lane  of  an  actor  of  the  name  of  Kean,  my  astonishment  may 
easily  be  conceived  on  discovering  that  the  little  insignificant  Alonzo 
the  Brave  was  the  grandly  impassioned  personator  of  Othello,  Richard, 
and  Shylock ! 


CHAPTER  II. 

1808-1811.  —  Father's  pecuniary  difficulties  —  Removal  from  Rugby  —  Father'? 
theatrical  tastes  —  Holman,  Henderson,  and  Kemble  in  "  Hamlet  "  —  Anecdotes 
ofMacklin  —  Letter  from  William  Birch  —  Visit  to  London  —  O.  P.  Riots  — 
Actors  of  the  day  —  Earliest  gas  in  London  —  Father  a  prisoner  for  debt  — 
Undertake  charge  of  his  company  —  Journey  from  Chester  to  Newcastle  — 
Theatrical  season  at  Newcastle — Country  theaters  —  Father  lessee  of  theater 
at  Birmingham  —  De'but  at  Birmingham  in  Romeo  (7th  June,  1810) — Lothair 
in  "Adelgitha" —  Norval  —  "Zanga" —  "George  Barnwell  "  —  Practice  on 
the  stage  of  the  empty  theater  —  Portrait  as  Romeo  by  Dewilde  —  Catalan!  at 
the  Opera  House  —  Engagement  at  Newcastle  —  Achmet  in  "  Barbarossa  "  — 
Osmond  iu  "  The  Castle  Specter  "  —  Rolla  —  Holiday  at  Tynemouth,  practice 
on  the  sea-shore  —  Capture  of  a  fish  —  Performance  at  Leicester  and  Birming- 
ham —  Albyn  in  "  The  Countess  of  Salisbury,"  Luke  in  "  Riches  "  —  Hardyk- 
nute  in  "  The  Wood  Demon"  —  Coach  traveling  of  the  period  —  An  escape 
from  danger  —  Death  of  grandfather. 

IN  penning  this  record  the  continual  recurrence  of  the  "first  per- 
son "  grates  against  my  taste  and  inclination,  but  an  autobiography 
cannot  dispense  with  /'s. 

My  views  had  been  to  strive  for  one  of  the  exhibitions  to  help  me 
forward  at  Oxford,  where  a  degree  would  have  accelerated  the  period 
of  being  called  to  the  Bar.  But  it  was  otherwise  decreed.  My  father. 
who  had  accumulated  a  little  property  in  the  Funds  by  his  successful 
management  of  the  Birmingham,  Sheffield,  Newcastle,  and  other  the- 


1808-11.  ADOPTS  THE  STAGE.  19 

aters,  outbid  his  competitors  for  the  lease  of  the  new  Manchester  The- 
ater, recently  built,  the  expense  attending  which,  its  painting,  furniture, 
and  complete  fitting  up,  swallowed  the  whole  of  his  investment.  A 
partner  who  could  not  fulfill  the  conditions  of  his  contract  added  to  his 
embarrassment,  and  a  disastrous  season  left  him  minus  to  a  very  con- 
siderable amount.  On  my  return  home  for  the  holidays  of  the  winter, 
1808-9,  I  was  not  apprised  of  the  difficulties  under  which  my  father 
was  laboring.  He  was  a  man  of  a  very  sanguine  temperament,  and 
clung  to  hope  till  affairs  became  desperate.  This  was  made  known  to 
me  in  a  very  painful  way.  I  had  given  offense  —  I  cannot  remember 
in  what  way,  but  I  recollect  that  I  did  not  conceive  myself  to  blame. 
Chiefly  owing  to  the  interposition  of  the  lady  then  staying  in  our 
house,  my  father  inflicted  a  severe  punishment  upon  me,  which  I  con- 
ceived unmerited,  and  I  took  the  truant  boy's  resolution  to  leave  my 
home.  Through  my  sisters  this  became  known  to  the  lady  alluded  to, 
and  she  took  occasion  to  talk  to  me  —  to  remonstrate  with  me,  inform- 
ing me  of  the  desperate  state  of  my  father's  affairs,  and  of  his  inabil- 
ity to  pay  my  bills  at  Rugby  for  the  last  half-year.  I  was  determined 
not  to  go  back  to  Rugby  under  such  circumstances.  What  then  was 
to  be  done  ?  Would  not  my  going  on  the  stage  relieve  my  father  from 
the  further  expense  of  my  education  ?  My  expectations  did  not  go 
beyond  this  result.  The  extravagant  views  however  of  my  counselor 
looked  to  another  Young  Roscius  furore  (I  being  not  yet  sixteen 
years  of  age),  and  speculated  on  a  rapid  fortune  !  I  had  neither  the 
vanity  nor  the  folly  to  entertain  for  one  instant  such  ideas ;  but  if  I 
could  lighten  the  load  then  pressing  on  my  father  by  foregoing  the 
cost  of  my  education,  and  could  aid  him  by  my  co-operation,  that  I  was 
willing  and  ready  to  do.  She  advised  me  to  go  at  once  to  my  father, 
then  at  the  theater,  about  a  mile  distant,  make  my  peace  with  him, 
and  propose  this  alternative  to  him.  I  fancy  she  had  prepared  him 
for  it,  in  signifying  her  intention  to  speak  to  me  on  the  subject. 

I  found  him  in  his  private  room  in  the  theater,  and  expressing  my 
regret  for  having  offended  him,  stated  my  wish,  as  my  bills  at  Rugby 
could  not  be  paid,  to  take  up  the  stage  as  a  profession.  He  made  a 
slight  demur  to  the  proposal,  intimating  that  Mr.  Birch  would  arrange 
for  the  non-payment  of  the  bills  —  that  it  had  been  the  wish  of  his 
life  to  see  me  at  the  Bar,  but  that  if  it  was  my  real  wish  to  go  upon 
the  stage,  it  would  be  useless  for  him  to  oppose  it.  I  gave  him  to  un- 
derstand that  my  mind  was  made  up,  and  the  die  was  cast.  I  was  not 
then  aware  of  the  distance  between  the  two  starting-points  of  life. 
My  father  was  impressive  in  his  convictions  that  the  stage  was  a  gen- 
tlemanly profession.  My  experience  has  taught  me  that  whilst  the 
law,  the  church,  the  army,  and  navy  give  a  man  the  rank  of  a  gentle- 
man, on  the  stage  that  designation  must  be  obtained  in  society  (though 
the  law  and  the  Court  decline  to  recognize  it)  by  the  individual  bear- 
ing. In  other  callings  the  profession  confers  dignity  on  the  initiated, 
on  the  stage  the  player  must  contribute  respect  to  the  exercise  of  his 
art.  This  truth,  experienced  too  late,  has  given  occasion  to  many  mo- 


20  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAI-.  II. 

ments  of  depression,  many  angry  swellings  of  the  heart,  many  painful 
convictions  of  the  uncertainty  of  ray  position.  I  was  not  aware,  in 
taking  it,  that  this  step  in  life  was  a  descent  from  that  equality  in 
which  I  had  felt  myself  to  stand  with  those  of  family  and  fortune 
whom  our  education  had  made  my  companions.  I  had  to  live  to  learn 
that  an  ignorant  officer  could  refuse  the  satisfaction  of  a  gentleman  on 
the  ground  that  his  appellant  was  a  player,  and  that,  whilst  any  of 
those  above-named  vocations,  whatever  the  private  character,  might  be 
received  at  court,  the  privilege  of  appearing  in  the  sacred  precincts 
was  too  exclusive  for  any,  however  distinguished,  on  the  stage.  In 
giving  once  a  very  liberal  subscription  to  a  charity,  Macklin  was  asked 
what  name  was  to  be  placed  before  it.  "  Why,"  he  replied,  "  accord- 
ing to  law  I  believe  it  should  be  '  Charles  Macklin,  vagabond,'  but  you 
may  enter  it,  by  courtesy,  '  C.  Macklin,  Esq.' "  Moliere  and  Shake- 
speare, as  stage-players,  would  have  come  within  the  English  law's 
category  of  "  vagabonds  ! " 

But  at  the  early  age  of  sixteen  my  lot  was  decided,  and  hencefor- 
ward my  resolve  was  taken  to  do  the  best  I  could  with  the  means  pre- 
sented to  me.  My  kind  friend  Birch  undertook  to  pay  the  Rugby  bills, 
exceeding  £100.  My  brother  Edward,  younger  than  myself  by  five 
years,  continued  his  studies  at  a  day-school  at  Manchester,  whilst  I, 
making  myself  as  useful  as  I  could  to  my  father  in  his  struggle  through 
the  remainder  of  his  theatrical  season,  divided  the  time  at  my  disposal 
between  occasional  snatches  of  work  at  my  old  classic  authors,  taking 
lessons  in  fencing,  and  getting  by  heart  the  words  of  such  youthful 
characters  in  the  drama  as  would  seem  most  likely  to  suit  my  age  and 
powers.  •  I  have  had  reason  to  question  the  judgment  of  my  father  in 
much  that  he  would  recommend  and  insist  upon  in  my  preparation  for 
the  stage.  With  a  certain  amount  of  cleverness,  his  notions  and  tastes 
were  what  I  may  call  too  "  stagey  "  to  arouse  or  nurse  the  originality 
of  a  first-rate  actor.  He  referred  always  to  what  he  had  seen,  and  cited 
the  manner  in  which  past  celebrities  would  deliver  particular  passages. 
Among  dramatic  poets  his  preference  ran  rather  to  Otway,  Rowe,  etc., 
than  to  Shakespeare,  and  in  after  life  I  had  in  consequence  the  difficult 
task  of  unlearning  much  that  was  impressed  on  me  in  my  boyish  days. 
Among  players  his  models  of  excellence  in  their  particular  walks  were 
Macklin  and  Henderson,  the  theatrical  Titans  to  whose  remote  grand- 
eur he  looked  back  with  confident  veneration.  He  held  in  high  esteem 
Kemble,  and  even  Pope  and  Holman,  with  whom  he  was  contempo- 
rary ;  but  Macklin  and  Henderson,  who  had  been  the  admiration  of  his 
early  youth,  held  the  foremost  rank  in  his  estimation.  He  had  acted 
the  part  of  Horatio  in  the  Dublin  Theater  three  times  in  one  week 
with  three  different  Hamlets — Holman,  Kemble,  and  Henderson  — 
and  with  all  the  personal  advantages  of  the  two  former,  he  regarded 
Henderson  as  immeasurably  their  superior.  A  criticism  in  one  of  the 
papers  of  the  day  distinguished  the  three :  Holman  as  Hamlet ;  Kem- 
ble, Prince  Hamlet;  and  Henderson,  Hamlet  Prince  of  Denmark. 
His  career  was  short,  but  from  the  testimony  of  those  who  witnessed 


1808-11.  MACKLIN.  21 

his  performances,  he  must  have  been  a  worthy  successor  of  Garrick, 
and  indisputably  pre-eminent  in  the  characters  of  Hamlet.  lago,  Fal- 
staff,  Shylock,  Benedict,  etc. 

Macklin,  whose  personation  of  Shylock  to  its  true  reading  had 
elicited  the  impromptu  of  Pope,  "  This  is  the  Jew  that  Shakespeare 
drew,"  was  my  father's  theatrical  oracle.  His  portrait  hung  over  the 
fireplace  of  our  little  dining-room  with  the  inscription,  "  Charles  Mack- 
lin, aged  98."  In  some  of  his  visits  to  Dublin  he  had  instructed  my 
father  in  the  part  of  Egerton  in  his  comedy  of  the  "  Man  of  the 
World ; "  and  on  the  occasion  of  his  last  benefit  there  he  sent  for  his 
pupil  from  Waterford  (where  my  father  was  playing)  to  act  Egerton. 

It  was  said  of  him  that  at  nineteen  he  could  not  read.  It  is  how- 
ever certain  that  he  was  servant,  similar  to  what  at  Oxford  is  called  a 
"  scout,"  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin.  The  custom  was  for  these  serv- 
ants to  wait  in  the  courts  of  the  college  in  attendance  on  the  calls  of 
the  students.  To  every  shout  of  "  Boy  ! "  the  scout,  first  in  turn,  re- 
plied, "  What  number  ?  "  and  on  its  announcement  went  up  to  the  room 
denoted,  for  his  orders.  After  Macklin  by  his  persevering  industry 
had  gained  a  name  as  author  and  actor  in  one  of  his  engagements  at 
the  Dublin  Theater,  some  unruly  young  men  caused  a  disturbance, 
when  Mackliu  in  very  proper  terms  rebuked  them  for  their  indecent 
behavior.  The  audience  applauded,  but  one  of  the  rioters,  thinking 
to  put  him  down  by  reference  to  his  early  low  condition,  with  con- 
temptuous bitterness  shouted  out  "  Boy  !  "  Poor  Macklin  for  a  mo- 
ment lost  his  presence  of  mind,  but  recollecting  himself,  modestly 
stepped  forward,  and  with  manly  complacency  responded,  "  What  num- 
ber ? "  It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  the  plaudits  of  the  house  fully 
avenged  him  on  the  brutality  of  his  insulters. 

His  manner  was  generally  harsh,  as  indeed  was  his  countenance. 
So  much  so  that  on  some  one  speaking  to  Quin  of  the  "  strong  lines  " 
of  Macklin's  face,  he  cut  short  his  remarks  with,  "  The  lines  of  his 
face,  sir  ?  You  mean  the  cordage."  My  father  has  described  to  me 
his  mode  of  speaking  to  the  players  at  rehearsal.  There  was  good 
advice,  though  conveyed  in  his  gruff  voice  and  imperious  tone.  "  Look 
at  me,  sir,  look  at  me  !  Keep  your  eye  fixed  on  me  when  I  am  speak- 
ing to  you !  Attention  is  always  fixed ;  'if  you  take  your  eye  from 
me  you  rob  the  audience  of  my  effects,  and  you  rob  me  of  their  ap- 
plause ! "  —  a  precept  I  never  forgot,  and  to  which  I  have  been  much 
indebted. 

After  he  had  left  the  stage,  which  the  utter  loss  of  memory  com- 
pelled him  to  do,  my  father  paid  him  a  visit  in  London,  and  his 
account  of  it  gave  curious  evidence  of  an  inveterate  prejudice  surviving 
the  decay  of  physical  and  intellectual  power.  The  old  man,  with 
lack-lustre  eye,  was  sitting  in  his  arm-chair  unconscious  of  any  one 
being  present,  till  Mrs.  Macklin  addressed  him.  "  My  dear,  here  is 
Mr.  Macready  come  to  see  you."  "  Who  ?  "  said  Macklin.  "  Mr. 
Macready,  my  dear."  "  Ha !  who  is  he  ?  "  "  Mr.  Macready,  you 
know,  who  went  to  Dublin  to  act  for  your  benefit."  "  Ha !  my 


22  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  II. 

benefit ?  what  was  it ?  what  did  he  act ? "  "I  acted  Egerton,  sir," 
said  my  father,  "  in  your  own  play."  "  I  la  !  my  play  ?  what  was  it  ?  " 
" '  The  Man  of  the  World,'  sir."  «  I  la,  '  Man  of  the  World  ! '  Devilish 
good  title!  Who  wrote  it?"  "You  did,  sir."  "Did  I?  Well! 

What  was  it  about  ?  "  "  Why,  sir,  there  was  a  Scotchman  " "  Ah 

d n  them ! "  My  father  finding  it  useless  to  prolong  this  last 

interview  with  his  old  preceptor,  took  his  leave. 

The  weeks  between  Christmas  and  Midsummer  dragged  their  slow 
length  along,  and  a  miserable  period  it  was.  My  poor  father,  in 
frequent  apprehension  of  arrest,  was  from  time  to  time  obliged  to 
absent  himself  and  to  study  modes  of  concealment  whilst  taking 
measures  (at  that  time  necessary,  from  the  state  of  the  law)  to  make 
himself  a  dealer  in  goods,  in  order  to  pass  through  the  Court  of  Bank- 
ruptcy. By  the  kind  aid  of  friends  he  was  enabled  eventually  to 
accomplish  this ;  in  the  meanwhile  his  release  from  the  Manchester 
Theater  was  obtained  by  the  sacrifice  of  all  the  valuable  property  he 
had  placed  in  it,  and  an  additional  £1,000  paid  by  his  securities,  my 
grandfather  and  uncle. 

Before  the  close  of  the  theater  Mr.  John  Fawcett,  an  excellent 
comic  actor,  a  man  very  much  respected,  and  an  old  friend  of  my 
father,  came  down  to  fulfill  engagements  with  him  at  the  Manchester 
and  Newcastle  Theaters.  During  his  performances  at  Manchester  he 
was  our  guest,  and  in  discoursing  on  the  subject  of  my  adoption  of  the 
player's  profession,  he  most  kindly  urged  the  advisability  of  my  seeing 
the  first  actors  of  the  day,  of  my  learning  to  fence  from  the  best 
masters ;  and  very  kindly  gave  me  an  invitation  to  spend  some  weeks 
at  his  house  in  London  for  this  purpose.  At  the  close  of  his  Man- 
chester engagement  I  traveled  with  him  to  Newcastle-on-Tyne,  where 
he  acted  during  the  race-week,  and  where  I  was  commissioned  by  my 
father  to  overlook  the  course  of  affairs  during  a  short  summer  season, 
in  fact  to  be  the  deputed  manager.  It  was  here  I  received  the  follow- 
ing letter  from  my  relative  and  friend,  William  Birch  :  — 

"  To  W.  C.  MACREADY,  ESQ.,  Newcastle-on-Tyne. 

RUGBY,  August  6th,  1809. 

"  DEAR  SIR, —  Having  seen  in  the  papers  your  father's  address  to  the  Manchester 
audience  on  his  relinquishing  that  theater,  I  cannot  refrain  from  writingto  ex- 
press my  sincere  concern,  and  to  add  that  any  act  of  friendship  as  far  as  lirs  in  my 
power  shall  gladly  be  executed.  In  the  tirst  place,  I  hog  you  to  accept  this  letter 
as  a  receipt  in  full  for  my  demands  upon  you,  and  for  all  the  bills 1  which  I  sent  in 
on  yours  and  your  brother's  account ;  and  I  am  glad  it  is  at  all  in  my  power  to 
relieve  Mr.  Macready  from  that  burden.  I  wish  also  to  know  whether  I  or  any  of 
my  brothers  could  be  of  service  to  your  younger  brother  in  any  mode,  or  to  your 
sisters.  Whatever  your  father  may  point  out  I  will  endeavor  to  the  utmost  of  my 
power  to  accomplish.  Your  friend  Jeston  called  here  last  week,  and  surprised  me 
with  the  account  of  your  being  manager  of  a  theater,  for  which  your  age  seemed 
not  yet  sufficient ;  but  your  desire  to  assist  your  father,  which  T  find  from  Jeston 
was  the  reason  of  your  adopting  your  present  profession,  gives  you  power,  which 
I  ardently  hope  will  bring  you  the  rewards  of  success,  and  I  esteem  your  character 
highly  for  exerting  yourself  in  one  of  the  first  of  all  virtues,  filial  affection.  I  beg 

i  Considerably  above  £100. 


1808-11.  THE  0.  P.  RIOTS.  23 

you  will  communicate  to  your  father,  with  my  kindest  regards,  my  wish  to  be  iii 
some  degree  serviceable  to  him  and  to  his  family,  and  if  I  knew  where  to  direct 
to  him,  I  would  address  him;  and  shall  be  most  happy  to  hear  from  him,  ex- 
plaining his  views  with  respect  to  you  and  the  rest  of  the  family.  My  wife  unites 
with  me  in  sincere  regards.  William  has  sailed  again  to  India.  Mary  is  tolerably 
well.  Believe  me,  dear  Sir, 

"  Yours  very  truly, 

"  WM.  BJKCH." 

I  remained  here  about  two  months,  not  deriving  much  advantage, 
though  some  experience,  from  the  society  of  some  of  the  players,  and 
falling  desperately  in  love  with  one  of  the  actresses  —  no  improbable 
consequence  of  the  unguarded  situation  of  a  boy  of  sixteen.  The 
theater  being  closed,  I  went  on  a  most  tearful  journey  ("  I  had  left  my 
dear  Phillis  behind  ")  to  meet,  after  the  sale  of  our  house-furniture,  my 
father  at  Birmingham,  where  the  greatest  sympathy  was  shown  with 
his  misfortunes.  The  manager  of  the  theater  there  took  advantage  of 
the  public  feeling,  and  made  an  engagement  with  him  for  a  few  nights' 
performances,  which  were  extremely  well  attended ;  but  the  night  of 
his  benefit  was  one  that  returned  a  receipt  never  before  known  there. 
Not  only  was  every  place  occupied,  but  very  many  sent  presents,  and 
from  one  club  a  purse  was  made  by  every  member  paying  a  guinea  for 
his  ticket.  This  happy  circumstance  placing  him  in  present  funds,  he 
left  Birmingham,  accompanied  by  me,  on  his  route  to  Leicester.  Here 
we  parted  for  a  time,  he  remaining  to  conduct  the  affairs  of  the  the- 
ater, and  I  taking  the  coach  to  London  to  pay  my  visit  to  my  father's 
friend,  Mr.  Fawcett.  My  reception  was  most  friendly,  though  the 
recollection  has  not  escaped  me  of  the  awkwardness  and  loneliness  I 
felt  for  the  first  time  among  strangers,  who  in  their  frank  hospitality 
soon  ceased  to  be  so. 

I  reached  London,  September  1809,  the  day  after  the  opening  of 
the  New  Covent  Garden  Theater,  which,  to  the  wonder  of  the  time, 
had  been  built  in  a  year  from  the  date  of  the  destruction  of  the  old 
one.  My  father's  command  that,  from  the  danger  of  becoming  an 
imitator,  I  should  not  see  John  Kemble  act,  proved  unnecessary ;  for 
the  O.  P.  riots,  which  nightly  drowned  the  voices  of  the  players,  pre- 
vented his  and  Mrs.  Siddons's  appearance.  A  little  disturbance  had 
been  anticipated  on  account  of  the  prices  being  raised  from  six  shil- 
lings to  seven  shillings  in  the  boxes,  and  from  three  shillings  to  four 
shillings  in  the  pit ;  but  the  proprietors  of  the  theater  too  confidently 
relied  on  the  beauty  and  splendor  of  the  edifice  reconciling  the  public 
to  the  advance.  The  spirit  of  resistance  was,  however,  persevering 
and  indomitable.  After  three  or  four  weeks  the  tumult  became  so  far 
lulled  that  the  three  first  acts  of  each  performance  were  listened  to  by 
the  scanty  audiences  that  attended ;  but  at  half-price  the  well  or- 
ganized opposition  rushing  in,  began  the  O.  P.  dance  on  the  benches  of 
the  pit,  and  not  one  syllable  more  was  to  be  heard.  The  scenes  pre- 
sented by  the  acting  audience,  and  the  "  hubbub  wild  "  that  deafened 
the  ear,  baffle  description.  Some  of  the  leading  pugilists  of  the  day 
were  franked  into  the  boxes,  to  champion  the  cause  of  the  proprietors 


24  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  II. 

where  the  melee  might  be  thickest.  Horns,  cat-calls,  and  all  imagin- 
able discordant  sounds  were  mingled  in  the  vast  uproar.  I  was  a  fre- 
quent visitor,  my  name  being  put  upon  the  free-list,  and  had  the  satis- 
faction of  seeing  Cooke,  Young,  C.  Kemble,  Murden,  Fawcett,  Emery, 
Liston,  and  other  first-rate  performers,  for  three  acts  each  night,  but 
soon  grew  tired  of  the  eternal  din,  that  became  one  same  barbarian 
yell.  This  continued  for  some  months,  until  the  menaced  ruin  of  the 
establishment  induced  the  proprietors  to  come  to  an  agreement  with 
the  self-installed  representatives  of  the  public,  and  a  pacification  was 
ratified  on  terms  of  mutual  concession.  Seven  shillings  for  the  boxes 
were  conceded  by  the  insurgents,  and  three-and-sixpence  was  yielded 
to  them  as  the  price  of  admission  to  the  pit.  The  Drury  Lane  Com- 
pany meanwhile,  who  had  been  burned  out  of  their  theater,  profited 
largely  by  this  interruption  of  the  Covent  Garden  performances,  hav- 
ing opened  the  Lyceum,  which  was  nightly  filled  by  those  who  wished 
to  see  plays  acted.  I  was  a  frequent  auditor,  my  business  being  to  see 
as  much  good  acting  as  I  could.  Elliston  had  taken  the  Surrey 
Theater,  where  the  law  allowed  him  to  perform  only  burlettas,  and 
here  I  saw  him  act  Macbeth  as  a  pantomime,  and  Captain  Macheath 
in  "  The  Beggars'  Opera,"  the  words  of  Gay  thrown  into  jingling 
rhyme.  Every  morning  before  breakfast  my  walk  was  from  Thorn- 
haugh  Street  to  the  Albany  to  take  lessons  in  fencing  from  Angelo ; 
and  J  certainly  was  industrious  in  my  endeavor  to  acquire  grace  and 
skill  in  the  use  of  the  small-sword.  I  became  acquainted  with  Mor- 
ton, Reynolds,  Theodore  Hook,  and  Vernon,  since  known  for  the  gift 
of  his  splendid  gallery  of  pictures  to  the  nation.  Tom  Sheridan  I 
also  met  in  the  park,  and  recollect  his  handsome,  sickly  face,  and  lively, 
good-humored  manner.  My  evenings  were  given  regularly  to  some 
theater,  and  my  early  mornings  as  regularly  to  Angelo.  The  25th  of 
October  was  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  George  III.'s  accession,  and  a 
popular  demonstration  was  got  up  for  the  Jubilee,  as  it  was  termed, 
with  illuminations,  to  divert,  it  was  said,  the  public  attention  from  Un- 
embarrassed state  of  political  affairs.  On  that  occasion  there  was  a 
gas  star  before  one  of  the  houses  in  Pall  Mall,  which  relighted  itself 
as  the  wind  every  now  and  then  partially  blew  out  some  of  its  jets. 
This  was,  I  think,  the  first  public  experiment  of  gas ;  and  it  was  a 
very  general  opinion  that  it  never  could  be  rendered  serviceable.  How 
frequently  have  the  predictions  of  prejudice  and  ignorance  been  falsi- 
fied by  science ! 

My  visit,  from  which  I  derived  considerable  benefit,  being  ended,  I 
returned  to  Leicester,  and  thence  proceeded  to  Manchester,  where  by 
appointment  I  rejoined  by  father.  We  slept  at  the  "  Bridgewater 
Arms"  that  night,  and  the  next  day  late  in  the  afternoon  I  went  with 
him  to  the  house  of  the  sheriff's  officer,  to  whom  he  was  to  surrender 
himself.  When  I  found  him  actually  a  prisoner  my  fortitude  gave 
way,  and  I  burst  into  tears.  He  had  evidently  a  struggle  to  collect 
himself,  but  he  did  so,  saying,  '*  There  is  nothing  I  cannot  bear  but 
compassion.  If  you  cannot  command  yourself,  go  away."  I  remained 


1803-11.  TAKES   CHARGE   OF  THE   COMPANY.  25 

with  him  whilst  it  was  permitted,  and  the  next  morning  he  went  with 
the  officer  to  his  sad  prison,  Lancaster  Castle,  and  I  with  no  less  heavy 
a  heart  to  take  charge  of  the  company  of  players  still  in  his  service  at 
Chester.  I  was  but  sixteen  years  old,  and  "  the  world  was  all  before 
me."  My  lodgings  were  not  uncomfortable,  but  my  situation  was  very 
dreary.  I  was  quite  alone,  and  every  performer  in  the  theater,  of  which 
I  now  entered  on  the  direction,  was  a  stranger  to  me  ;  and  what  aggra- 
vated the  difficulty  of  my  undertaking,  several  were  in  a  state  of  mutiny, 
their  salaries  being  considerably  in  arrear.  The  slovenly  manner  in 
which  the  business  of  the  theater  was  carried  on  by  the  persons  in 
office  was  apparent  to  me  in  the  play  1  saw  represented  the  night  of 
my  arrival.  I  was  surprised  and  vexed  to  find  that  it  was  a  novelty  of 
some  interest  put  forward  without  notice  or  due  preparation  —  u  The 
Foundling  of  the  Forest,"  which  had  been  an  attraction  through  the 
summer  at  the  Haymarket  Theater.  I  enforced  more  attention  at  the 
rehearsals  ;  announced  a  piece  upon  the  subject  of  the  late  jubilee, 
which  excited  curiosity,  and  was  attractive  ;  received  what  were  called 
"  bespeaks  "  from  Lord  Grosvenor  and  Egertori,  the  member  for  the 
city  opposed  to  him,  which  were  crowded  houses ;  but  when  I  had 
cleared  off  most  of  the  claims  upon  the  concern,  the  proprietors  put  in 
an  execution  for  the  remainder  of  rent  due,  and  I  was  at  my  wits'  end. 
I  wrote  to  friends  for  the  loan  of  what  money  they  could  afford  me, 
and  having  conciliated  the  good-will  of  some  of  the  best  among  the 
actors,  I  was  enabled  to  discharge  the  rent,  pay  off  the  salaries  in 
arrear,  and  at  the  close  of  the  theater  pursue  my  journey  with  three  of 
the  company  in  a  post-chaise  to  Newcastle-on-Tyne.  The  money  I 
had  been  able  to  provide  was  nicely  calculated  to  carry  us  through. 
It  was  the  week  before  Christmas,  and  regular  December  weather. 
My  hopes  of  relief  from  the  obligations  which  still  embarrassed  me, 
and  of  raising  the  credit  of  my  father's  theaters,  rested  on  the  ap- 
proaching season  at  Newcastle.  My  whole  dependence  was  there. 
The  best  performers  from  Chester  were  to  meet  there  the  elite  of  the 
Leicester  troop,  and  together  would  form  a  very  good  provincial  com- 
pany. 

We  left  Chester,  where  I  had  learned  my  first  lesson  of  the  world's 
difficulties,  on  Christmas  Eve,  and,  with  four  in  a  chaise  and  luggage, 
could  not  expect  in  winter  roads  to  move  on  very  expeditiously. 
Traveling  all  night  we  reached  Brough,  a  small  town  on  the  wild 
borders  of  Westmoreland,  about  noon  on  Christmas  Day,  where  we 
stopped  to  lunch.  Here  I  gave  our  last  £5  Bank  of  England  note  to 
pay  the  post-boy  who  had  brought  us  from  Sedbergh.  To  our  utter 
dismay  the  landlord  entered  the  room  with  the  note  in  his  hand  to  in- 
form us  he  did  not  like  the  look  of  it,  that  he  therefore  demurred  to 
give  change  for  it,  and  that  he  could  not  send  us  forward,  from  the 
state  of  the  roads,  without  four  horses  !  Here  was  a  dead  lock !  all  my 
cherished  hopes  endangered,  if  not  ruined,  unless  I  reached  Newcastle 
in  good  time  on  the  morrow,  and  how  to  get  there  or  send  nearly  170 
miles  was  a  perplexity  which  in  a  very  distressed  state  of  mind  we  had 


26  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  II. 

to  deliberate  upon.  My  position,  if  I  could  not  reach  Newcastle  in 
time,  must  have  been  deplorable.  We  sent  for  the  landlord  ;  he  was 
not  within,  having  gone  up  to  his  farm  !  Time  began  to  press,  for  it 
was  already  evident  we  could  not  under  any  circumstances  reach  New- 
castle that  night ;  but  what  means  of  extrication  were  there  ?  My 
watch  had  been  left  at  Chester  to  eke  out  the  needful  amount  for  this 
journey.  Those  of  my  three  compaynons  de  voyage  were  laid  on  the 
table,  and  the  landlord,  who  had  returned,  was  once  more  summoned. 
I  gave  him  what  references  of  respectability  I  could,  and,  finding  him 
immovable  in  his  refusal  to  send  us  on  without  four  horses,  we  sub- 
mitted to  this  extra  charge  on  condition  he  would  advance  three  pounds 
upon  the  watches  and  give  change  for  the  five-pound  note.  After  some 
hesitation  he  yielded  ;  the  post-boy  was  paid,  the  four  horses  were  put 
to,  and  the  postilions  charged  to  instruct  the  innkeeper  at  the  next 
stage  to  forward  us  with  a  pair.  The  crew  with  a  flowing  sheet  sail- 
ing "  Away  from  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  O,"  could  scarcely  have  felt  greater 
relief,  than  we  did  in  finding  ourselves  in  full  gallop  from  what  had 
threatened  to  be  our  prison  in  Brough.  We  gave  three  cheers  as  we 
cleared  the  dreary  little  town,  and  on  reaching  Durham  late  in  the 
evening  found  our  funds  just  equal  to  the  payment  of  the  chaise  that 
landed  us  there.  Being  well  known  here,  there  was  no  stint  to  the 
enjoyment  of  a  good  supper  and  good  beds,  the  bill  for  which  I  took 
with  me  to  Newcastle  betimes  the  next  morning,  obtaining  cash  from 
the  treasurer  of  the  theater  to  remit  the  full  discharge  of  all  to  our 
obliging  host  of  the  Wheatsheaf. 

The  event  of  the  season  at  Newcastle  did  not  disappoint  me.  The 
company  was  very  superior  to  the  average  of  provincial  theaters. 
Poor  Conway,  then  a  very  handsome  young  man,  with  a  good  voice, 
great  ardor  in  the  study  of  his  art,  and  evincing  very  considerable 
promise,  was  its  hero,  performing  Hamlet,  Othello,  Jaffier,  etc.,  to  good 
houses.  The  new  play  of  "  The  Foundling  of  the  Forest,"  got  up 
with  new  scenery,  etc.,  under  my  most  careful  superintendence,  was 
an  attraction  for  many  nights.  "The  Jubilee,"  "Macbeth"  as  a  pan- 
tomime (prohpudor  /),  "  Valentine  and  Orson,"  etc.,  added  to  our  re- 
ceipts, enabling  me  to  remit  regularly  three  pounds  each  week  to  my 
father  in  his  melancholy  duress  at  Lancaster.  A  little  before  the  close 
of  the  season  in  the  spring  he  obtained  with  his  release  his  certificate 
of  bankruptcy,  with  most  complimentary  testifications  to  his  upright- 
ness and  liberality. 

It  was  at  Birmingham  that  the  commission  of  his  bankruptcy  was 
taken  out,  and  at  one  of  the  meetings,  on  the  question  being  put  of 
what  should  be  done  with  his  plate  (among  which  was  a  handsome 
vase  presented  to  him  for  his  aid  to  the  Birmingham  General  Hos- 
pital), George  Freer,  a  principal  creditor,  stood  up  and  said,  "If  they 
took  Macready's  plate,  he  should  instantly  propose  a  subscription  for 
a  new  service  to  him ; "  on  which  it  was  unanimously  voted  that  his 
plate  and  other  personal  properties  should  be  returned  to  him. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  season  a  person  imposed  on  me,  by  the 


1808-11.  COUNTRY  THEATERS.  27 

name  of  "  Harrison,"  the  belief  that  he  was  the  great  concert  singer 
of  that  clay,  and  I  very  gladly  engaged  him  to  sing  a  certain  number 
of  songs  on  a  particular  evening.  His  name  was  posted  in  the  for- 
midable large  letters  of  the  play-bills,  and  there  was  an  attendance 
eager  to  see  and  hear  the  famous  tenor  of  the  Ancient  Concerts ;  but, 
in  proportion  to  my  satisfaction  at  the  appearance  of  the  audience,  was 
my  horror  and  dismay  at  seeing  the  fellow  go  on  the  stage  in  a  pair 
of  white  duck  trousers  (it  was  winter),  a  chapeau-bras  under  his  arm, 
and  Avith  an  unsteadiness  of  deportment  that  showed  he  had  been 
sacrificing  much  more  liberally  to  Bacchus  than  to  Apollo.  Before 
he  had  got  through  his  first  song  the  hissing  began,  and  a  chorus  of 
hootings  responded  to  his  unsteady  attempts  to  bow  himself  off.  I  sent 
on  the  stage-manager  to  state  the  fraud  that  had  been  practiced  on 
me,  and  to  make  the  tender  to  the  dissatisfied  of  the  return  of  their 
admission-money.  Few  took  advantage  of  it ;  therefore  the  next  morn- 
ing, having  reduced  the  receipt  of  the  night  to  that  of  the  lowest 
average  of  the  season,  I  sent  the  surplus  with  a  note  to  the  General 
Hospital,  declining  on  the  part  of  the  management  to  profit  by  the 
imposition.  On  another  occasion  I  was  threatened  with  a  challenge 
for  having,  in  my  capacity  as  manager,  forcibly  removed  a  young  man 
from  the  boxes  who,  iii  a  state  of  intoxication,  was  disturbing  the 
audience. 

Omnia  mutantur  is  a  familiar  proverb  of  the  oldest  philosophy 
In  this  world  of  changes  the  theatrical  calling  has  undergone  revolu- 
tions as  complete  as  those  of  science  and  religion.  Witness  the  differ- 
ence between  the  present  state  of  the  stage  and  its  condition  when  I 
entered  on  it.  At  that  time  a  theater  was  considered  indispensable  in 
towns  of  very  scanty  populations.  The  prices  of  admission  varied 
from  65.,  4s.,  or  3s.  to  boxes  ;  2s.  Gd.  or  2s.  to  pit ;  and  Is.  to  gallery. 
A  sufficient  number  of  theaters  were  united  in  what  was  called  a  cir- 
cuit, to  occupy  a  company  during  the  whole  year,  so  that  a  respectable 
player  could  calculate  upon  his  weekly  salary,  without  default,  from 
year's  end  to  year's  end :  and  the  circuits,  such  as  those  of  Norwich, 
York,  Bath  and  Bristol,  Exeter,  Salisbury,  Kent,  Manchester,  Bir- 
mingham, etc.,  with  incomes  rising  from  £70  to  £300  per  annum, 
would  be  a  sort  of  home  to  him,  so  long  as  his  conduct  and  industry 
maintained  his  favor  with  his  audiences.  But  beyond  that,  the  regu- 
larity of  rehearsal  and  the  attention  paid  to  the  production  of  plays, 
most  of  which  came  under  the  class  of  the  "  regular  drama,"  made  a 
sort  of  school  for  him  in  the  repetition  of  his  characters  and  the  criti- 
cism of  his  auditors,  from  his  proficiency  in  which  he  looked  to  Covent 
Garden  or  Drury  Lane  as  the  goal  of  his  exertions.  For  instance, 
from  Exeter  came  Kean ;  from  Dublin  Miss  O'Neill,  Conway,  R. 
•Jones,  Lewis,  "W.  Farren  ;  from  York  Fawcett,  C.  Mathews,  Emery, 
Harley,  J.  Kemble.  The  distance  from  London  was  then  so  great, 
and  the  expense  and  fatigue  of  traveling  was  such  as  to  make  a 
journey  then  more  rare ;  and  the  larger  towns,  as  York,  Newcastle, 
Bath,  Exeter,  Norwich,  were  centers  or  capitals  of  provincial  circles, 


28  VACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  II. 

to  which  the  county  families  resorted  for  the  winter  season,  or  crowded 
to  the  public  weeks  of  races  and  assizes,  when  the  assembly-rooms  and 
tlif  theaters  were  the  places  of  fashionable  meeting. 

My  experience  of  country  theaters  never  presented  me  with  any 
scenes  resembling  the  barn  of  Hogarth's  Strolling  Players,  but  it  was 
not  altogether  without  its  whimsical  expedients  and  ludicrous  mishaps. 
On  the  first  representation  of  the  grand  Ballet  of  Action  of  Macbeth 
J  was  most  busily  and  anxiously  engaged  in  looking  after  the  working 
of  the  machinery,  which  was  very  complicated,  and  urging  on  the 
performers.  In  the  scene  after  Duncan's  murder  there  was  scarcely 
three  minutes'  time  for  Macbeth  and  Lady  Macbeth  to  wash  the  blood 
from  their  hands.  Macbeth,  poor  Conway,  on  rushing  from  the  stage 
in  an  agony  of  despair  exclaimed,  "  Oh  !  my  dear  sir,  my  dresser  is 
not  here  !  What  shall  I  do?"  (The  old  man  with  water,  soap,  and 
towel  was  at  the  opposite  side.)  There  was  not  an  instant  for  reflec- 
tion. "  Here,"  I  cried,  "  come  here  ;  "  dragging  him  up  to  the  gentle- 
man's first  dressing-room,  where  he  plunged  his  hands  into  a  jug  of 
water.  "  There  is  no  towel,  my  dear  sir ! "  in  continued  agony  he 
cried.  I  snatched  up  the  first  semblance  of  cloth  that  lay  to  hand, 
with  which  he  dried  his  half-washed  hands,  and  dashed  back  to  the 
stage  again.  With  the  water  and  cloth  in  my  hands  I  met  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  Lady  Macbeth  in  equal  perplexity,  who,  hastily  availing 
herself  of  the  ready  aid,  rushed  back  to  her  place  on  the  stage.  The 
jug,  etc.,  I  hastily  deposited  in  my  own  room,  and  returned  to  watch 
the  closing  of  the  scene.  The  curtain  fell  that  night  with  much  ap- 
plause on  our  barbarous  violation  of  Shakespeare,  and  I  went  to  my 
lodgings  through  a  deep  snow,  insensible  to  the  cold  from  the  satisfac- 
tion I  felt  in  the  success  of  the  evening.  The  next  morning  the  acting 
manager  met  me  with  a  very  grave  countenance,  foretelling  "  the  nat- 
ure of  a  tragic  volume,"  and  opened  his  tale  of  woe  with  — "  Sir,  I 
am  very  sorry  to  tell  you,  there  are  thieves  in  the  theater  !  "  "  Good 
heavens  !  "  I  answered,  "  is  it  possible  ?  Let  every  inquiry  be  made, 
that  they  may  be  punished,  or  at  least  turned  out  of  the  place.  What 
has  been  stolen  ?  "  "  Why,  sir,  Mr.  Simkin's  breeches  !  When  he 
went  to  dress  himself  at  the  end  of  the  evening,  his  breeches  were  gone, 
and  he  was  obliged  to  walk  home  to  his  lodgings  through  the  snow 
without  any."  I  desired  the  strictest  search  and  inquiry  to  be  made, 
and  no  pains  spared  to  detect  the  offender.  After  a  little  time,  how- 
ever, a  thought  crossed  me,  and  I  asked  the  manager  what  kind  of 
small  clothes  they  were.  When  he  told  me  they  were  brown  kersey- 
mere, it  Hashed  across  me  that  I  had  seized  them  for  Conway's  towel, 
and  had  thrown  them  under  the  table  in  my  own  room.  The  injury 
was  repaired,  but  the  story  of  Simkin's  small  clothes  was  for  some  time 
repeated  a.s  against  my  impetuosity. 

With  my  father's  return  my  responsibilities  ceased;  and  it  was  no 
light  load  from  which  my  inexperience,  not  always  able  to  avoid  mis- 
takes, was  relieved.  I,  however,  still  attended  the  rehearsals,  and  in 
the  "  getting  up  "  of  the  melodramas,  pantomimes,  etc.,  I  was  the  in- 


1803-11.  SOCIETY  AT  NEWCASTLE.  29 

structor  of  the  performers.  One  morning  I  remember,  when  my  fa- 
ther was  present,  showing  one  of  them,  who  had  to  personate  a  sav- 
age, how,  in  making  a  •  sort  of  tiger-spring  upon  his  enemy,  suddenly 
to  lapse  into  astonishment  on  seeing  his  own  figure  reflected  in  the 
polished  surface  of  his  antagonist's  shield.  My  father  was  taken  by 
surprise,  and  involuntarily  said  (for  he  was  not  very  prodigal  of  his 
praise),  "  If  you  can  do  anything  like  that  on  the  stage,  there  will  be 
few  come  near  you." 

The  season  was  closed,  and  arrangements  made,  not  without  diffi- 
culty, by  my  father  for  our  journey  to  Birmingham,  and  for  opening 
the  theater  there,  of  which  he  had  become  lessee.  The  peculiar  situ- 
ation in  which  I  had  been  placed  for  the  greater  part  of  a  year  was 
one,  as  I  now  look  back  upon  it,  that  might  have  determined  my  lot 
for  more  severe  trials  than  have,  I  say  it  thankfully,  fallen  to  my 
share.  It  almost  unavoidably  threw  me  into  intimacy  with  minds  not 
capable  of  improving,  nor  likely  much  to  benefit,  one  so  young  and 
impulsive  as  myself;  and  led  me  into  occasional  dissipation,  which 
might  have  induced  habits  destructive  of  ability  and  reputation.  To 
my  excellent  friends  the  Misses  Hedley,  three  maiden  sisters  of  good 
family,  and  almost  oracles  in  the  best  social  circles  of  Newcastle,  I  owe 
my  rescue  from  the  liabilities  I  was  then  incurring.  They  were  lovers 
of  the  theater;  one  particular  box  was  nightly  reserved  for  them, 
which  they  scarcely  ever  failed  to  occupy  for  some  part  of  the  even- 
ing. A  little  before  the  close  of  the  season  they  gave  me  an  invita- 
tion to  take  tea  with  them,  and  took  advantage  of  the  occasion  to  rep- 
resent to  me  that  some  of  the  leading  people  in  the  place  would  be 
ready  to  show  me  kindness  and  attention  if  they  were  sure  that  I  was 
select  in  my  associates.  They  pointed  out  to  me  the  evils  and  dangers 
of  dissipation  and  low  company  in  the  career  I  was  about  to  enter  on, 
and  induced  me  by  their  friendly  and  sensible  expostulations  to  give 
attentive  consideration  to  a  subject  of  such  consequence  to  young  peo- 
ple entering  life.  That  they  became  the  firm  and  cordial  friends  of 
myself  and  my  sisters  to  the  end  of  their  lives  is  the  proof  that  their 
thoughtful  interposition  between  me  and  ill  fortune  was  not  without 
some  result.  Happy  is  the  destiny  that  gives  to  a  youth  of  unbounded 
spirits  and  uncontrollable  excitability,  like  myself,  the  blessing  of  early 
monitors,  whether  in  the  more  painful  discipline  of  consequent  suffer- 
ing or  in  the  more  indulgent  agency  of  pre-admonition  such  as  theirs. 
The  vocation  of  player,  as  well  as  that  of  teacher,  is  often  undertaken 
for  no  other  reason  than  that  nothing  else  offers  to  the  unoccupied  and 
needy.  Too  often  is  it  made  for  the  idle  and  ignorant  a  refuge  from 
the  duties  of  painstaking  industry  ;  and,  in  daily  intercourse  with  men 
and  women  so  actuated  and  circumstanced,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at 
if  youth  should  soon  lose  its  freshness  and  the  lofty  tone  of  thought 
with  which  it  was  prepared  to  enter  on  its  career. 

We  reached  Birmingham  with  so  reduced  a  purse  that  my  father 
had  to  call  upon  a  friend  for  a  loan  to  meet  our  immediate  expenses. 
But  the  theater  opened ;  the  company,  which  was  still  further  rein- 


30  UACREADTS   1U-.MIXISCEXCES.  CHAP.  II. 

forced,  was  pronounced  very  good,  and  all  went  on  satisfactorily.  Con- 
\v:iy  \v;is  the  threat  favorite.  My  father,  to  whom  I  of  course  deferred, 
had  selected  Romeo  for  the  character  of  my  debut,  and  accordingly  I 
was  now  in  earnest  work  upon  it.  Frequently  in  the  course  of  my 
solitary  attempts  the  exclamation  would  escape  me,  "  I  cannot,  do  it ; " 
and  in  some  of  my  private  rehearsals  I  had  the  discouraging  remark 
of  my  father,  "  That  will  not  do,"  to  damp  my  courage  and  cast  the 
gloomy  shade  of  doubt  on  my  exertions.  Still,  however,  I  persevered  ; 
and  as  the  time  of  making  the  desperate  plunge  approached,  my  hopes 
were  somewhat  cheered  by  the  encouragement  of  the  lady  who  was 
rehearsing  her  part  of  Juliet  with  me  (Mrs.  Young,  from  Drury  Lane 
Theater)  and  my  father's  admission  of  "  Very  great  improvement." 
By  dint  of  practice  and  repeated  rehearsals,  alone  and  with  the  other 
performers,  I  had  got  by  rote,  as  it  were,  every  particular  of  place, 
gesture,  feeling,  and  intonation, —  and  well  for  me  I  had  done  so;  for 
if  it  made  my  heart  beat  more  quickly  to  read  in  the  street  play-bills  * 
the  announcement  of  "  The  part  of  Romeo  by  a  young  gentleman,  his 
first  appearance  on  any  stage,"  the  emotions  I  experienced  on  first 
crossing  the  stage,  and  coming  forward  in  face  of  the  lights  and  the 
applauding  audience,  were  almost  overpowering.  There  was  a  mist 
before  my  eyes.  I  seemed  to  see  nothing  of  the  dazzling  scene  before 
me,  and  for  some  time  I  was  like  an  automaton  moving  in  certain  de- 
fined limits.  I  went  mechanically  through  the  variations  in  which  I 
had  drilled  myself,  and  it  was  not  until  the  plaudits  of  the  audience 
awoke  me  from  the  kind  of  waking  dream  in  which  I  seemed  to  be 
moving,  that  I  gained  my  self-possession,  and  really  entered  into  the 
spirit  of  the  character  and,  I  may  say,  felt  the  passion,  I  was  to  repre- 
sent. Every  round  of  applause  acted  like  inspiration  on  me :  I  "  trod 
on  air,"  became  another  being,  or  a  happier  self;  and  when  the  curtain 
fell  at  the  conclusion  of  the  play,  and  the  intimate  friends  and  per- 
formers crowded  on  the  stage  to  raise  up  the  Juliet  and  myself,  shak- 
ing my  hands  with  fervent  congratulations,  a  lady  asked  me,  "  Well, 
sir,  how  do  you  feel  now  ? "  my  boyish  answer  was  without  disguise, 
"  J  feel  as  if  I  should  like  to  act  it  all  over  again." 

After  the  repetitions  of  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  the  play  of  "  Adel- 
githa,"  one  of  Mat  Lewis's  forgotten  tragedies,  was  brought  forward, 
in  which  Comvay  took  the  part  of  Robert  Guiscard,  and  the  youth 
Lothair  was  cast  to  me,  now  advertised  as  Mr.  William  Macready. 
The  character  is  placed  in  very  effective  situations,  and,  abounding  in 
clap-traps,  strengthened  the  impression  of  my  first  appearance.  My 
next  character  wae  Norval,  in  Home's  tragedy  of  "Douglas."  Con- 
way  was  Glenalvon ;  he  was  a  great  favorite,  and,  as  the  leading  actor 
of  a  country  theater,  deservedly  so.  But  unfortunately  the  tendency 

1  The  play-bill  stated  :  On  Thursday  evening,  June  7,  will  be  presented  tli3 
tragedy  of  "Romeo  and  Juliet  "  (written  by  Shakspear).  The  part  of  Borneo  by 
a  YOUNG  GENTLEMAN,  being  bis  lirst  appearance  on  any  stage.  Friar 
Laurence  Mr.  Harley,  and  Juliet  by  Mrs.  Young.  The  play  was  followed  by  the 
farce  of  "  The  Irishman  in  London  "  (written  by  the  father),  in  which  the  elder 
Macready  performed  the  part  of  Murtoch  Delany." —  ED. 


1808-11.  HIS  PORTRAIT  AS  ROMEO.  31 

of  his  study  was  by  isolated  and  startling  effects  to  surprise  an-  audi- 
ence into  applause.  The  consistency  and  harmony  of  character  was 
not  the  aim  of  his  research.  To  "  make  points "  was  the  end  of  his 
practice  and  study,  to  which  the  spectators  would  respond,  as  I  now 
perceive,  too  liberally.  I  remember  well  thinking  that  I  had  no 
chance  against  him,  with  his  beauty  of  person,  commanding  stature, 
and  physical  power ;  but  the  sequel  proved,  unhappily  for  him,  how 
much  my  inexperienced  judgment  was  at  fault.  Upon  the  strength  of 
my  school  performance  I  was  next  announced  for  Zanga  in  Dr. 
Young's  "  Revenge,"  which,  although  regarded  with  wonder  as  a 
school-boy's  effort,  proved  on  the  stage  a  very  feeble  and  ineffective 
piece  of  declamation.  In  "  George  Barn  well "  I  was  quite  at  home, 
and  acted  the  bashful,  guilty  youth  with  a  consciousness  of  being  at 
least  near  the  truth  in  the  unaffected  simplicity  of  the  early  scenes, 
and  the  passionate  remorse  that  follows  them. 

These  plays,  with  their  repetitions,  made  up  the  term  of  my  Bir- 
mingham season.  I  was  launched,  and,  notwithstanding  the  success 
that  has  attended  me,  I  may  truly  say  "  upon  a  sea  of  troubles."  My 
father  was  now  sanguine  in  his  expectations  of  my  advancement,  but  I 
was  not.  Still,  I  resolved  to  make  the  best  of  what  might  be  before 
me.  I  worked  in  earnest  on  the  parts  submitted  to  me  after  each 
performance,  endeavoring  to  improve  on  its  repetition.  It  was  only 
on  Sundays  that  the  theater,  being  locked  up,  was*  free  from  the 
presence  of  all  employed  in  it.  I  used  to  get  the  key,  and,  after  morn- 
ing service,  lock  myself  in,  and  pace  the  stage  in  every  direction  to 
give  myself  ease,  and  become  familiar  in  my  deportment  with  exits 
and  entrances,  and  with  every  variety  of  gesture  and  attitude.  My 
characters  were  all  acted  over  and  over,  and  speeches  recited  till, 
tired  out,  I  was  glad  to  breathe  the  fresh  air  again.  This  was  for 
several  years  a  custom  with  me. 

On  the  close  of  my  Birmingham  performances  my  father,  who 
attached  great  importance  to  the  different  modes  of  giving  publicity  to 
a  name,  took  me  up  to  London  in  order  to  have  a  portrait  of  me  taken 
and  engraved.  Not  being  a  connoisseur  in  art,  he  gave  the  commis- 
sion to  an  artist  who  was  known  for  his  theatrical  likenesses,  but 
whose  drawing  and  coloring  were  miserably  defective.  Poor  De- 
wilde  !  Many  theatrical  memories  are  perpetuated  by  him  in  the 
portrait-gallery  belonging  to  the  Garrick  Club.  I  sat,  or  rather 
stood,  to  him  in  the  dress  of  Romeo,  which  my  father  had  perempto- 
rily designed  for  me  ;  and  after  making  me  go  through  the  movements 
of  Romeo's  first  scene,  he  decided  on  a  passage ;  but  to  suit  his  idea 
of  the  picturesque,  made  me  so  alter  the  attitude,  that  it  had  no  refer- 
ence whatever  to  the  expression  of  the  words.  The  deference  which 
I  held  towards  an  artist  who  was  to  my  ignorance  a  great  authority 
made  me  submissive,  and  a  very  unmeaning  representation  of  the 
Veronese  lover  was  in  consequence  displayed  in  the  print-shop  win- 
dows. 

It  was  on  this  visit  to  London  that,  from  the  gallery  of  the  Opera 


32  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  II. 

House,  I  first  saw  the  songstress  whose  appearance  made  a  sensation 
in  all  the  capitals  of  Europe — Catalani ;  the  opera  was  "  Cosi  fan 
tutte,"  and  Tramezzani  and  Naldi  were  her  supporters  ;  but  the  height 
at  which  we  were  placed  incommoded  me  too  much  to  allow  me  to 
derive  any  pleasure  from  the  performance.  After  a  few  weeks'  holi- 
day by  the  seaside,  at  Parkgate,  near  Chester,  passed  with  my  brother, 
I  was  sent  to  Newcastle  ;  the  assizes  were  then  on,  and  with  the  rep- 
etition of  the  characters  I  had  acted,  except  Zanga,  I  appeared  in 
Achmet  in  Dr.  Brown's  tragedy  of  "  Barbarossa,"  Earl  Osmond  in 
Mat  Lewis's  drama  of  "  The  Castle  Specter,"  and  Rolla  in  Sheridan's 
translation  of  Kotzebue's  "  Pizarro."  I  was  warmly  received,  and  the 
partiality  with  which  my  early  essays  were  encouraged  there  seemed 
to  increase  in  fervor  to  the  very  last  night,  when  I  made  my  farewell 
bow  to  a  later  generation. 

Several  weeks  after  this  engagement,  as  it  was  termed,  were  passed 
in  solitude  at  Tynemouth,  then  a  small  village,  where,  with  a  very  few 
books,  I  contrived  to  while  away  the  lonely  hours,  fishing,  bathing, 
rambling  along  the  shore,  meditating  on  the  characters  I  had  acted, 
and  declaiming  to  the  louder  waves  the  various  passages  from  them. 
Through  my  professional  course  this  has  been  a  practice  with  me 
whenever  opportunity  offered.  In  one  of  my  fishing  excursions  I  was 
amused  and  surprised  by  the  sagacity  of  one  of  our  boatmen.  We 
were  at  a  short  Distance  from  the  rocky  shore,  our  lines  let  down  to 
the  full  depth,  when  one,  pulling  up,  observed  that  "  it  was  a  good  one 
from  its  weight."  To  our  surprise  it  was  a  very  good  sized  cod-fish, 
but  lean-looking,  wasted,  and  there  was  a  sort  of  sea-vermin  crawling 
in  numbers  over  its  skin.  A  fish  of  that  size  so  near  the  shore  ami 
lying,  as  it  evidently  had  been,  at  the  bottom,  instantly  suggested  the 
cause  of  its  enfeebled  state  to  the  sailor.  "  I  should  not  wonder," 
said  the  man,  "if  he  has  a  gold  watch  in  his  belly  —  let's  see,"  and 
with  his  knife  opening  the  stomach,  he  threw  down  on  the  bench  a  cat 
of  middling  size,  exclaiming,  "  Dash  my  buttons,  if  it  is  n't  a  kitting." 
It  would  have  been  supposed  impossible  for  the  fish  to  have  passed  so 
large  a  mass  down  its  throat ;  but,  being  lodged  in  the  stomach,  the 
digestive  action  of  the  creature  must  have  been  stopped,  and  the  ani- 
mal remained  in  its  perfect  state,  the  hair  of  its  skin  only  being  ruffled. 
Our  unscientific  boatman  directly  knew  that  indigestion  was  the  mal- 
ady of  the  voracious  fish. 

My  next  performances  were  at  Leicester,  where  I  was  received  with 
great  favor,  acting  over  the  characters  I  had  previously  played.  The 
close  of  the  theater  was  marked  by  a  very  flattering  testimony  to  my 
father  in  a  present  to  him  from  the  proprietors  of  one  hundred  guineas, 
:i-  H  mark  of  their  respect.  I  should  not,  in  justice  to  his  memory, 
forget  to  record  that  he  lived  to  pay  off  many  of  the  debts  of  which  his 
certificate  of  bankruptcy  legally  acquitted  him.  He  was  bent  on  mak- 
ing the  experiment  of  a  winter  season  at  Birmingham,  and  there  we 
returned  for  a  few  weeks  before  Christmas,  where  I  opened  in  the  part 
of  Achmet.  His  predilection  for  the  plays  of  a  more  recent  date 


1808-11.  CAT  ALAN  I.  33 

forced  me  upon  characters  which  were  uncongenial  to  me.  "  The 
Countess  of  Salisbury  "  was  a  favorite  with  him,  as  having  been  acted 
by  Barry  and  Mrs.  Barry.  Accordingly  I  had  to  prepare  myself  in 
the  part  of  Albyn,  in  which  I  produced  but  little  effect.  As  a  coun- 
terpoise to  his  erroneous  judgment  in  that  instance,  he  was  very  much 
impressed  by  the  character  of  Luke  in  an  alteration  of  Massinger's 
"  City  Madam  "  by  Sir  James  Bland  Burgess.  The  play  was  called 
"  Riches."  This  was  given  me  to  prepare,  and  I  found  the  task  ex- 
tremely difficult.  I  cannot  help  regarding  the  character  as  an  unnat- 
ural one.  The  pure  and  lofty  sentiments  so  eloquently  poured  forth 
in  Luke's  pleading  for  his  brother's  debtors,  the  conviction  littered  to 
himself  of  his  degradation  being  the  consequence  of  his  own  errors,  ap- 
pear in  inconsistent  contrast  with  the  treatment,  so  wantonly  cruel,  of 
his  relatives  and  his  former  clients  when  placed  within  his  power. 
The  play  scarcely  conveys  a  moral  in  the  startling  violence  of  its  tran- 
sitions from  penitence  to  inordinate  selfishness  and  barbarity,  and  back 
again  to  humiliation  and  contrition.  But  there  are  many  scenes  of 
great  power,  affording  scope  to  the  actor  ;  and  to  these  the  play  is  in- 
debted for  the  success  it  obtained,  which  in  the  country  was  very  con- 
siderable, although  in  London  it  took  no  permanent  hold  of  public  in- 
terest. 

An  incorrect  MS.  of  Mr.  Lewis's  melodrama  called  "  The  Wood 
Demon,  or  the  Clock  has  Struck,"  from  notes  taken  in  shorthand,  I 
believe,  during  its  performance,  was  given  to  m  ^father,  who  decided 
on  producing  it,  and  wished  me  to  act  Hardyknute.  I  rewrote  much 
of  the  character,  and  with  the  care  bestowed  on  its  rehearsals,  and  all 
the  earnestness  I  could  infuse  into  the  performance,  it  excited  much 
interest,  and,  particularly  at  Newcastle,  proved  a  great  attraction  for 
many  nights ;  but  the  two  parts  requiring  great  exertion  on  the  same 
night  was  a  trial  of  my  strength.  I  could,  however,  then  say  with 
(CEdipe  —  "  J'etais  jeune  et  superbe." 

The  main  hope  of  my  father  in  opening  the  Birmingham  Theater 
at  this  unusual  period  rested  on  an  engagement  made  with  Madame 
Catalani  to  sing  a  certain  number  of  nights.  Being  a  never-failing 
attraction,  it  was  a  death-blow  to  my  father's  confident  and  sanguine 
expectations  to  receive,  a  few  days  before  her  intended  appearance,  a 
letter  from  her  husband,  Mons.  Valebreque,  with  the  disastrous  state- 
ment that  her  severe  illness  made  it  impossible  for  her  to  fulfill  her 
engagement.  My  father,  in  his  distress  at  such  a  disappointment, 
was  disposed  to  doubt  the  credibility  of  Valebreque's  assertion,  and, 
being  unable  to  leave  Birmingham  himself,  ordered  me  to  get  ready 
without  loss  of  time,  and  start  for  London  by  the  Balloon  Coach, 
which  would  reach  town  about  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning ;  this 
was  considered  a  fast  coach,  leaving  Birmingham  at  three  in  the  after- 
noon. I  was  ready,  but  the  Balloon  was  full.  The  book-keeper,  how- 
ever, informed  me  that  another  coach  was  starting,  and  would  be  in 
London  nearly  as  soon  as  the  Balloon.  My  business  was  dispatch, 
for  I  was  to  see  Catalani  in  the  course  of  the  next  day,  and  return  by 
3 


34  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  II. 

the  mail  at  night.  I  therefore  readily  took  advantage  of  the  opportune 
proposal,  and  got  into  the  coach.  Its  odors  were  many,  various,  and 
unpleasantly  mingled,  and  the  passengers,  a  half-drunken  sailor  and 
an  old  woman,  not  of  the  first  rank  in  society,  did  not  impress  me 
with  the  prospect  of  a  very  pleasant  journey.  The  pace  at  which  the 
vehicle  proceeded  made  me  doubt  if  it  would  ever  reach  Loud  >u.  and 
its  creakings  and  joltings  seemed  to  augur  a  certain  overturn.  \\'<- 
did  not  arrive  at  Coventry,  eighteen  miles  distant,  before  eight 
o'clock  —  five  hours  !  —  nor  reach  London  before  five  the  next  even- 
ing. To  my  great  distress  and  disgust  I  found  that  I  had  been  put 
into  a  coach  notorious  among  all  travelers  as  the  L  .  .  .  y  Liverpool. 
I  proceeded  to  Catalani's  house,  found  her  in  bed  very  ill,  and  the  next 
day  was  on  my  way  home. 

This  winter  season  was  unproductive,  but.  it  lives  in  my  memory 
associated  with  an  event  that  I  recall,  though  with  regret,  not  wishing 
to  omit  any  circumstance  in  my  life's  career.  An  old  school-fellow,  to 
whom  I  had  been  fag  at  Rugby,  came  with  his  wife,  an  exceedingly 
lovely  young  creature,  and  took  up  his  abode  at  the  Hen  and  Chickens 
Hotel.  He  had  visited  my  father  when  at  school,  and,  calling  on  him 
and  me,  introduced  his  beautiful  little  bride  to  us.  He  was  on  the 
most  intimate  terms  with  me ;  they  dining  with  us,  and  I  with  them. 
His  strange  manner  and  habits,  however,  could  not  escape  remark. 
He  rarely  rose  before  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  rambled  at  night 
through  all  parts  %f  the  theater,  indulged  very  freely  in  wine,  and 
seemed  utterly  to  neglect  his  lovely  little  wife.  He  asked  me  to  take 
her  out  to  walk,  to  accompany  her  to  the  theater  when  I  did  not  act, 
and  sit  with  her  in  our  private  box  —  a  very  secluded  one.  My 
father  hinted  his  suspicions  to  me  that  all  was  not  right,  and  I  had  a 
monitor  in  my  own  breast  that  made  me  apprehensive  too.  I  could  not, 
so  young,  be  placed  in  such  constant  intimacy  with  one  of  my  own  age, 
so  attractive  and  betraying  occasionally  manifest  partiality,  without 
the  consciousness  of  danger  from  the  feeling  she  awakened.  I  must 

confess  to  heaving  the  lover's  sigh  when  L one  evening  made  a 

sort  of  "  scene  "  of  his  disclosure,  that  Mrs.  L was  not  married  to 

him.  I  remonstrated  with  him  on  the  wrong  he  had  done  my  father, 
who  had  introduced  his  mistress  to  a  lady  in  society,  and  who  would 
have  made  her  acquainted  with  my  sisters  if  they  had  been  at  home. 
He  admitted  his  culpability,  and  blamed  himself  for  having  takrii  her 
to  the  family  of  another  friend  of  his,  a  college  chum,  but  that  he  "did 
not  know  what  he  did."  He  determined  to  leave  Birmingham  the 
next  morning,  but  his  fair  companion  very  much  wished  to  see  me 
before  their  departure.  To  this  my  father  was  opposed,  and  I  was  of 
course  obliged  to  yield  to  his  will ;  but  the  image  of  her  beauty  wa> 
long  present  to  me,  and  I  learned  to  regard  her  absence  as  a  happy 
escape  from  a  very  serious  danger.  Vanity  was  at  the  root  of  all  this 
proceeding.  L was,  even  at  school,  a  coxcomb,  and  a  great  novel- 
reader  ;  and  acted  the  rake  less  from  passion,  I  believe,  than  from  the 
desire  to  be  talked  of.  I  could  not  be  blind  to  the  fact  that  in  his 


1811-12.  FIRST  APPEARANCE  IN  "HAMLET."  35 

intended  romance  he  was  desirous  of  disentangling  himself  from  the 
temporary  connection  he  had  formed,  and  of  passing  his  mistress  off 
on  me.  My  dependent  condition  favored  me  in  this  predicament  more 
than  I  deserved.  Many  years  after  a  poor  little,  lusty,  ill-clad,  vulgar- 
looking  woman,  seemingly  about  forty  -five  years  of  age,  knocked  at  my 
chambers  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  and  asked  me  to  help  her  in  her 
great  distress.  She  was  the  wife  of  a  serjeant  who  had  left  her  with- 
out means.  To  my  astonishment  it  was  the  bright  vision  of  beauty 
that  had  gleamed  upon  and  dazzled  my  sight  in  years  gone  by.  I 
gave  her  all  the  help  I  could.  Poor  creature ! 

We  received  here  the  news  of  my  grandfather's  death.  He  was  a 
tradesman,  and,  as  the  Father  of  the  Commons,  highly  respected  in 
Dublin,  as  his  funeral,  the  greatest  known  there  for  many  years,  testi- 
fied. He  left  above  £20,000,  which  was  almost  entirely  squandered 
in  a  chancery  suit  brought  by  one  of  the  sons,  an  attorney,  but  involv- 
ing the  whole  family,  against  the  executor,  an  elder  brother.  My  poor 
father  through  his  life  was  wont  to  turn  in  emergency  to  the  proba- 
bility of  what  "  the  lawsuit "  would  give  him.  It  gave  his  widow,  I 
believe,  after  upwards  of  twenty  years'  litigation,  something  like 
£1  los. 


CHAPTER  III. 

1811-1812. — First  appearance  in  "Hamlet"  —  Criticism  on  the  part  of  Hamlet 
—  Visit  to  London  —  A  dangerous  acquaintance  —  Performing  at  Leicester  and 
Newcastle  —  Mrs.  Whitlock  —  New  parts  —  Acting  with  Mrs.  Siddons  at  New- 
castle in  "  The  Gamester"  and  "Douglas"  —  Hfer  instructions  to  a  young 
actor  —  Criticism  on  her  acting  —  Birmingham  —  Holman  —  W.  H.  West 
Betty,  the  ci-devant  young  Roscius  —  Miss  Smith  —  A  lesson  in  judgment  on 
acting  —  Acting  with  Mrs.  Jordan  at  Leicester  —  Her  acting  —  Revival  of 
"  Richard  II."  at  Newcastle  —  Anecdotes  of  G.  F.  Cooke. 

IN  the  season  which  opened  at  Newcastle  immediately  after  Christ- 
mas, the  principal  attraction  was  the  play  of  "  Riches,"  in  which  I 
very  much  improved  my  performance  of  Luke.  The  public  favor 
attended  me  in  the  fresh  attempts  I  made,  and  the  Earl  of  Essex, 
Roderick  Dhu,  in  a  drama  called  the  "  Knight  of  Snowdon,"  founded 
on  Walter  Scott's  "  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  John  of  Lome,  in  Miss 
Baillie's  play  of  the  "  Family  Legend,"  and  Julian  in  a  piece  called 
the  "  Peasant  Boy,"  which  was  exactly  suited  to  my  years,  and 
which,  from  my  earnestness  and  reality,  affected  the  audiences  very 
deeply,  all  strengthened  the  partiality  of  my  early  patrons.  But  the 
task  of  the  season  to  me  was  my  first  appearance  in  "  Hamlet,"  for 
my  benefit.  As  I  look  back  on  this  venture,  which  shook  my  nerves 
as  much  as  my  first  passing  into  the  sight  of  box,  pit,  and  gallery,  it 
appears  like  presumption  in  a  youth  of  eighteen  to  hazard  the  good 
opinions  already  won  in  such  an  arduous  attempt.  The  critic  who 
had  made  a  study  of  this  masterpiece  of  Shakespeare  would  predict 


36  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  III. 

with  confidence  a  failure  in  such  an  experiment,  but  he  would  not 
ii:ivc>  taken  into  account  the  support  to  the  young  aspirant  supplied  by 
the  genius  of  the  poet.  There  is  an  interest  so  deep  and  thrilling  in 
the  story,  such  power  in  the  situations,  and  such  a  charm  in  the 
language,  that  with  an  actor  possessed  of  energy,  a  tolerable  elocu- 
tion, and  some  grace  of  deportment,  the  character  will  sufficiently 
interpret  itself  to  the  majority  of  an  audience  to  win  for  its  repre- 
sentative, from  their  delight,  the  reward  of  applause  really  due  to  the 
poet's  excellence.  A  total  failure  in  Hamlet  is  of  rare  occurrence. 
Every  theatrical  hero  takes  it  up,  and  yet  how  many  have  there  been, 
appearing  and  carrying  off  applauses  in  the  part,  who  have  been 
utterly  incompetent  to  investigate  the  springs  of  emotion  which  agi- 
tate and  perplex  this  amiable,  reflective,  and  sensitive  being?  "  There 
be  players,  that  I  have  seen  play,  and  heard  others  praise,  and  that 
highly,"  in  the  character,  who  could  as  soon  explain  and  reconcile  its 
seeming  inconsistencies,  as  translate  a  page  of  Sanskrit.  Dr.  Johnson, 
who  so  lucidly  describes  the  mind  of  Polonius,  has  left  us  in  his  observ- 
ations clear  proof  that  he  did  not  understand  that  of  Hamlet ;  and 
audiences  have  been  known  to  cheer  innovations  and  traps  for  ap- 
plause, which  the  following  words  of  the  text  have  shown  to  be  at 
utter  variance  with  the  author's  intention  !  My  crude  essay,  like  those 
of  many  others,  was  pronounced  a  success  ;  but  the  probing  inquiry 
and  laborious  study  of  my  after-life  have  manifested  to  me  how  little 
was  due  to  my  own  skill  in  that  early  personation.  The  thought  and 
practice  I  have  through  my  professional  career  devoted  to  it,  made  it 
in  my  own  judgment,  and  in  those  of  critics  whom  I  had  most  reason 
to  fear  and  respect,  one  of  my  most  finished,  though  not  the  most 
popular  in  my  repertoire. 

The  Duke  Aranza,  in  Tobin's  charming  play  of  "  The  Honey- 
moon," was  my  introduction  to  comedy ;  and,  with  Posthumous 
Leonatus  in  "  Cymbeline,"  and  the  part  of  Orestes  in  Ambrose  Phil- 
ip's translation  of  Racine's  "  Andromache,"  confirmed  me  as  the 
established  favorite  of  the  Newcastle  audience.  The  season  at  Bir- 
mingham, beginning  in  May,  *f811,  added  to  my  list  the  parts  of 
Frederick  in  Mrs.  Inchbald's  translation  of  Kotzebue's  "Natural 
Son,"  Phocyas  in  Hughes's  "  Siege  of  Damascus,"  and  Charles  II. 
in  Dimond's  play  of  "  The  Royal  Oak."  An  engagement  was  made 
with  Pope,  who  had  in  former  days  shared  the  leading  tragic  char- 
acters at  Covent  Garden.  He  was  said  to  have  been  an  imitator  of 
Clinch,  known  in  his  day  by  the  familiar  name  of  Larry  Clinch,  uh<> 
was  reputed  to  have  been  a  very  close  copyist  of  Barry,  in  voice  and 
manner.  An  incident  is  related  of  Clinch,  who  was  extremely  pop- 
ular with  the  Dublin  audience,  that  acting  one  of  his  favorite  tragic 
parts  by  command  of  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  of  course  to  a  very  fash- 
ionable assemblage,  he  had  not  noticed  a  slight  derangement  of  his 
dress,  which  one  of  his  admirers  in  the  gallery  perceiving,  in  extreme 
anxiety,*  leaned  over  the  rail,  and  with  his  hand  hollowed  to  his 
mouth,  as  if  to  carry  his  information  to  the  ear  of  Clinch  alone,  in 


1811-12.  VISIT  TO  LONDON.  37 

a  subdued  vociferation,  intended  for  a  whisper,  called  out,  "  Larry, 
honey,  there  's  the  smallest  taste  in  life  of  your  shirt  got  out  behind 
you ! "  My  father  regarded  Pope  as  a  remnant  of  an  old  school, 
which  I  certainly  thought,  in  these  my  "  salad  days,"  was  one  better 
worn  out  and  incapable  of  resuscitation.  The  equestrian  troop  from 
Astley's  circus  had  been  introduced  by  Harris  at  Covent  Garden,  and 
were,  as  a  matter  of  course,  at  the  close  of  the  London  season,  en- 
gaged by  my  father,  and  in  the  melodramatic  pieces  of  "  Blue  Beard  " 
and  "  Timour  the  Tartar,"  written  by  Monk  Lewis,  attracted  crowds  to 
the  theater.  This  gave  me  a  holiday,  which  I  was  sent  to  spend  with 
my  brother  at  Parkgate.  I  used  this  time  to  refresh  my  memory  with 
the  classics,  which  I  had  laid  aside  so  long. 

On  my  return  to  Birmingham,  the  "  Knight  of  Snowdon "  was 
produced  at  considerable  expense,  but  the  equestrian  mania  left  the 
remainder  of  the  summer  very  dull.  Catalan!  sang  one  night  in 
compensation  for  the  disappointment  her  illness  had  caused,  and  it 
was  on  this  occasion  that  the  audience  would  not  be  satisfied  with 
even  her  assistance  in  "  God  save  the  King,"  until  Tramezzani,  the 
tenor  of  the  Italian  Opera,  sang  his  verse.  It  was  he  who  introduced 
alterations  in  the  execution  of  the  anthem,  some  of  which  are  feebly 
retained  at  the  present  day.  He  had  acted  several  nights  in  a  sort  of 
mono-dramatic  operetta  called  "  Pigmalione,"  and  on  the  last  night 
sang  "  God  save  the  King."  It  had  been  heretofore  little  better  than 
a  dull  psalm.  Exit  Tramezzani  sang  it  in  the  style  of  a  fervent  and 
enthusiastically  devout  prayer,  and  quite  electrified  the  house  by  the 
discrimination,  and  energy  with  which  he  invoked  the  divine  aid  in 
the  stanza  of  "  O  Lord  our  God,  arise,"  etc.  From  Birmingham  my 
father  removed  his  company  to  Leicester,  a«d  I  was  sent  to  London 
to  sit  again  to  Dewilde  in  the  character  of  Hamlet,  which  portrait, 
it  was  agreed,  should  be  sent  to  the  Exhibition  of  the  next  year. 
This  was  regarded  by  my  father  as  one  of  the  best  advertisements, 
and,  as  I  have  since  remarked,  he  set  too  high  a  value  on  these  modes 
of  attracting  public  attention,  which  must  come  under  the  ordinary 
term  of  "  puffing."  My  experience  has  convinced  me  that  the  repute 
derived  from  it  is  usually  short-lived,  and  the  merits  of  those  who 
have  profited  by  it  have  been  constantly  open  to  question.  Honest 
perseverance  in  the  cultivation  of  the  talent  with  which  God  may 
have  blessed  us,  and  the  earnest  purpose  of  aiming  at  the  noblest 
ends  of  which  it  may  be  capable  and  to  which  it  may  aspire,  is  cer- 
tain of  recognition  in  the  long  run  and  bases  itself  on  the  firmest 
foundation.  During  the  three  or  four  weeks  that  my  attendance  on 
Dewilde  detained  me  in  London,  I  took  up  my  abode  at  the  York 
Hotel,  Charles  Street,  Covent  Garden.  I  frequented  the  theaters, 
and  was  an  occasional  guest  with  my  friend  Fawcett.  In  the  coffee- 
room  of  the  hotel  I  could  not  help  noticing,  from  his  constant  attend- 
ance there  at  breakfast  and  dinner,  a  gentleman  of  rather  remarkable 
appearance.  His  dress  was  that  of  a  clergyman ;  he  wore  a  broad- 
brimmed  hat,  which  in  going  out  he  pressed  down  almost  to  his  eye- 


38  MAC  READY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  III. 

brows,  giving  an  extraordinary  effect  to  his  ensemble ;  he  was  tall, 
well-featured,  of  excellent  address,  and  seemingly  a  sort  of  oracle 
among  the  frequenters  of  the  house.  I  had  been  in  town  about  a 
fortnight,  when  he  began  to  honor  me  with  a  bow  in  passing,  and  at 
length  entering  into  conversation  with  me,  proposed  to  order  his  din- 
ner to  my  table  —  a  compliment  which  I,  of  course,  gladly  accepted. 
I  found  him  in  conversation  most  agreeable,  extensively  read,  and  of 
superior  taste  and  acquirement.  He  had  got  my  name,  etc.,  at  the 
bar,  and  the  theater  being  one  of  the  subjects  of  our  discourse,  he 
invited  me  to  accompany  him  to  Covent  Garden  Theater  on  the  fol- 
lowing Monday  to  see  Young  in  Othello,  Charles  Kemble  acting, 
I  think  for  the  first  time,  lago.  We  agreed  to  dine  together  early 
and  go  to  the  pit,  where  he  always  occupied  a  particular  place. 

On  the  Sunday  previous  I  dined  with  Fawcett,  and  was  lavish  in 
my  praise  of  the  agreeable  acquaintance  I  had  made,  enlarging  upon 
his  gentlemanly  address,  his  information,  taste,  etc.  On  Monday,  our 
appointment  being  duly  kept,  we  went  together  to  the  pit  of  the  thea- 
ter. Young  acted  in  his  usual  effective  declamatory  way,  and  my  only 
observation  was  of  something  like  a  rude  remark  by  a  neighboring 
visitor,  as  spoken  at  something  which  my  companion  had  said.  The 
next  afternoon  Fawcett,  with  whom  I  had  some  little  business,  in- 
quired of  me  very  particularly  about  the  gentleman  of  whom  I  had 
been  speaking  on  the  Sunday.  "  Was  he  tall,  dark-haired,  bald,  wear- 
ing his  hat  low  down  on  his  forehead?"  etc.  When  to  all  these  inquir- 
ies I  answered  in  the  affirmative,  he  broke  out  in  a  very  alarming 
way,  "  My  dear  boy,  it  is  a  mercy  I  have  met  you.  He  is  a  man  of 
most  dreadful  character.  I  would  not  have  you  seen  with  him  for  the 
world."  "  Why,  good  gracious  ! "  I  replied,  "  I  was  with  him  at  Co- 
vent  Garden  last  night."  "  Well,  no  one  could  have  observed  you, 
for  Mrs.  Fawcett  and  some  friends  noticed  him  in  his  place,  but  did 
not  remark  you.  I  do  not  wonder  at  your  being  pleased  with  his 
manners  and  conversation.  He  was  once  one  of  the  most  eloquent 
and  popular  preachers  in  London.  I  remember  when  on  Sundays 
Great  Queen  Street  used  to  be  crowded  with  carriages  in  attendance 
at  his  chapel  there.  He  is  of  very  good  family,  and  was  secure  of  the 

highest  preferment.     His  name  was  Dr. .     Some  very  disgraceful 

conduct  brought  him  within  the  danger  of  the  law,  from  which, 
through  interest,  he  was  saved,  but  was  obliged  to  give  up  his  chapel, 
is  shunned  by  his  family  and  friends,  and  now  takes  his  mother's 

name,  Dr.  Q ."     All  this  news,  as  may  be  supposed,  caused  me,  a 

youth  inexperienced  in  the  world,  great  agitation,  and,  as  the  only  way 
to  avoid  the  man,  I  resolved  to  change  my  hotel.  This  niy  good 
friend  Fawcett  approved,  and  taking  me  to  the  Old  Slaughter  Coffee 
House,  St.  Martin's  Lane,  and  furnishing  me  with  funds  until  I  ob- 
tained my  remittance  from  home,  established  my  quarters  there  —  one 
of  those  houses  which,  for  good  English  dinners  and  excellent  port 
wine,  are  among  the  pleasant  memories  of  a  by-gone  time. 

When  my  sittings  were  ended  I  left  London  for  Leicester,  where  I 


1811-12.  MRS.    WHITLOCK.  39 

acted  for  several  weeks,  and  then  proceeded  with  my  father  to  New- 
castle. An  addition  to  his  regular  company  was  made  in  the  engage- 
ment of  Mrs.  Whitlock,  a  sister  of  the  Kemble  family,  who  had  made 
a  comfortable  independence  in  the  United  States,  and  had  settled  with 
her  husband  in  Newcastle,  where  they  were  highly  respected,  and 
mingled  in  the  best  society  of  the  place.  She  had  something  of  the 
Kemble  manner  and  voice,  intelligence,  but  not  sufficient  theatrical 
talent  to  give  her  a  high  position  among  the  English  actors  of  that 
day.  Her  figure  was  unfortunately  disproportioned,  and  as  she  must 
then  have  been  upon  the  verge  of  sixty,  her  selection  of  the  part  of 
Elwina,  in  Hannah  More's  play  of  "Percy,"  was  singularly  injudicious, 
more  especially  as  I,  being  then  only  eighteen,  had  to  represent  her 
lover,  the  youthful  Percy.  Her  love  of  acting  was  so  great  as  to  blind 
her  to  her  disqualifications,  and  she  has  told  me  that  when  on  the 
stage  she  felt  like  a  being  of  another  world !  How  often  have  I  en- 
vied in  others,  less  fortunate  than  myself  in  public  favor,  this  passion- 
'  ate  devotion  to  the  stage  !  To  me  its  drawbacks  were  ever  present. 

During  this  season,  in  which  "  The  Royal  Oak,"  produced  in  a  very 
efficient  manner,  was  the  early  attraction,  I  acted  King  Charles, 
Daran  in  Reynolds's  play  of  "  The  Exile,"  Chamont  in  Otway's 
u  Orphan,"  Edward  the  Black  Prince,  Alexander  in  Lee's  inflated 
tragedy,  Fitzharding  in  Tobin's  Curfew,"  and  made  a  very  successful 
attempt  in  broad  comedy,  acting  Rover,  the  strolling  player  in 
O'Keefe's  farcical  comedy  of  "Wild  Oats,"  on  the  "bespeak"  of  the 
mayor.  The  engagement  of  "  the  horses  "  had  been  so  productive  at 
Birmingham,  that  my  father  would  listen  to  no  remonstrances  on  the 
score  of  taste  against  their  appearance  at  Newcastle.  Platforms  and 
sawdust  were  again  in  requisition,  and  for  six  weeks  the  pieces  of 
"  Blue  Beard  "  and  u  Timour  the  Tartar "  were  repeated  with  unin- 
terrupted success,  which  enabled  my  father  to  discharge  the  debt,  con- 
siderably above  £100,  for  school  bills  at  Rugby,  which  our  friend 
William  Birch  had  so  generously  taken  on  himself. 

But  a  most  formidable  ordeal  was  in  preparation  for  me.  Mrs. 
Siddons,  a  name  that  even  now  excites  in  me  something  like  a  rev- 
erential feeling,  was  on  the  point  of  concluding  her  engagement  at 
Edinburgh,  previous  to  taking  her  leave  of  the  stage  in  London.  Her 
way  lay  through  Newcastle,  and  she  engaged  to  act  there  two  nights. 
On  hearing  this  some  of  her  friends  in  the  town  —  and  she  had  many 
—  wrote  to  her  (as  she  afterwards  told  my  father)  requesting  she 
would  make  Lady  Randolph  one  of  her  characters,  my  years  and 
ardor  suiting  so  well  the  part  of  Norval.  The  plays  she  fixed  on  were 
"  The  Gamester  "  and  "  Douglas."  Norval  was  a  favorite  character 
with  me,  but  Beverley  I  had  to  study,  and  with  the  appalling  infor- 
mation that  I  was  to  act  it  with  Mrs.  Siddons  !  With  doubt,  anxiety, 
and  trepidation  I  set  about  my  work,  but  with  my  accustomed  resolu- 
tion to  do  my  very  best.  The  language  of  the  play  is  prose,  and 
sufficiently  prosaic ;  but  I  went  to  work  at  it  with  a  determined 
though  agitated  spirit,  and  sought  out  in  every  sentence  the  expression 


40  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  THAI-.  III. 

that  would  most  clearly  illustrate  the  varying  emotions  of  the  char- 
acter. The  words  of  the  part  I  was  soon  perfect  in ;  but  the  thought 
of  standing  by  the  side  of  this  great  mistress  of  her  art  hung  over  me 
///  terroretn. 

After  several  rehearsals  the  dreaded  day  of  her  arrival  came,  and  I 
was  ordered  by  my  father  to  go  to  the  Queen's  Head  Hotel  to  rehearse 
my  scenes  with  her.  The  impressiou  the  first  sight  of  her  made  on 
me  recalled  the  Page's  description  of  the  effect  on  him  of  Jane  de 
Montfort's  appearance  in  Joanna  Baillie's  tragedy  of  "  De  Montfort." 
It  was 

"  So  queenly,  so  commanding,  and  so  noble, 

I  shrank  at  first  in  awe;  but  when  she  smiled, 

For  so  she  did  to  see  me  thus  .abashed, 

Methought  I  could  have  compassed  sea  and  land 

To  do  her  bidding." 

The  words  might  have  been  written  for  this  interview,  for  my  ner- 
vousness must  have  been  apparent  to  her  on  my  introduction,  and  in 
her  grand  but  good-natured  manner  she  received  me,  saying,  "  I  hope, 
Mr.  Macready,  you  have  brought  some  hartshorn  and  water  with  you, 
as  I  am  told  you  are  terribly  frightened  at  me,"  and  she  made  some 
remarks  about  my  being  a  very  young  husband.  Her  daughter,  Miss 
Cecilia  Siddons,  went  smiling  out  of  the  room,  and  left  us  to  the  busi- 
ness of  the  morning. 

Her  instructions  were  vividly  impressed  on  my  memory,  and  I  took 
my  leave  with  fear  and  trembling,  to  steady  my  nerves  for  the  coming 
night.  The  audience  were  as  usual  encouraging,  and  my  first  scene 
passed  with  applause  ;  but  in  the  next  —  my  first  with  Mrs.  Beverley 
—  my  fear  overcame  me  to  that  degree  that  for  a  minute  my  presence 
of  mind  forsook  me,  my  memory  seemed  to  have  gone,  and  I  stood 
bewildered.  She  kindly  whispered  the  word  to  me  (which  I  never 
could  take  from  the  prompter),  arid  the  scene  proceeded. 

What  eulogy  can  do  justice  to  her  personations  !  How  inadequate 
are  the  endeavors  of  the  best  writer  to  depict  with  accuracy  to  an- 
other's fancy  the  landscape  that  in  its  sublime  beauties  may  have 
charmed  him !  "  The  tall  rock,  the  mountain,  and  the  deep  and 
gloomy  wood  "  may  have  "  their  colors  and  their  forms  "  particularized 
in  eloquent  language,  but  can  they  be  so  presented  to  the  "  mind's 
eye  "  of  the  reader  as  to  enable  him  to  paint  from  them  a  picture  with 
which  the  reality  will  accord  ?  or  will  any  verbal  account  of  the  most 
striking  features  of  "  the  human  face  divine  "  convey  a  distinct  por- 
traiture of  the  individual !  How  much  less  can  any  force  of  descrip- 
tion imprint  on  the  imagination  the  sudden  but  thrilling  effects  of  tone 
or  look,  of  port  or  gesture,  or  even  of  the  silence  so  often  significative 
in  the  development  of  human  passion !  "  L'art  de  declamation  ne 
laisse  apres  lui  que  des  souvenirs."  As  these  are  not  transferable,  I 
will  not  presume  to  catalogue  the  merits  of  this  unrivaled  artist,  but 
may  point  out,  as  a  guide  to  others,  one  great  excellence  that  distin- 
guished all  her  personations.  This  was  the  unity  of  design,  the  just 


1811-12.  MRS.  SIDDONS.  41 

relation  of  all  parts  to  the  whole,  that  made  us  forget  the  actress  in 
the  character  she  assumed.  Throughout  the  tragedy  of  "  The  Game- 
ster "  devotion  to  her  husband  stood  out  as  the  mainspring  of  her 
actions,  the  ruling  passion  of  her  being ;  apparent  when  reduced  to 
poverty  in  her  graceful  and  cheerful  submission  to  the  lot  to  which  his 
vice  has  subjected  her,  in  her  fond  excuses  of  his  ruinous  weakness,  in 
her  conciliating  expostulations  with  his  angry  impatience,  in  her  in- 
dignant repulse  of  Stukely's  advances,  when  in  the  awful  dignity  of 
outraged  virtue  she  imprecates  the  vengeance  of  Heaven  upon  his 
guilty  head.  The  climax  to  her  sorrows  and  sufferings  was  in  the 
dungeon,  when  on  her  knees,  holding  her  dying  husband,  he  dropped 
lifeless  from  her  arms.  Her  glaring  eyes  were  fixed  in  stony  blank- 
ness  on  his  face  ;  the  powers  of  life  seemed  suspended  in  her  ;  her 
sister  and  Lewson  gently  raised  her,  and  slowly  led  her  unresisting 
from  the  body,  her  gaze  never  for  an  instant  averted  from  it ;  when 
they  reach  the  prison  door  she  stopped,  as  if  awakened  from  a  trance, 
uttered  a  shriek  of  agony  that  would  have  pierced  the  hardest  heart, 
and,  rushing  from  them,  flung  herself,  as  if  for  union  in  death,  on  the 
prostrate  form  before  her. 

She  stood  alone  on  her  height  of  excellence.  Her  acting  was  per- 
fection, and  as  I  recall  it  I  do  not  wonder,  novice  as  I  was,  at  my  per- 
turbation when  on  the  stage  with  her.  But  in  the  progress  of  the 
play  I  gradually  regained  more  and  more  my  self-possession,  and  in 
the  last  scene  as  she  stood  by  the  side  wing,  waiting  for  the  cue  of  her 
entrance,  on  my  utterance  of  the  words,  "  My  wife  and  sister  !  well  — 
well !  there  is  but  one  pang  more,  and  then  farewell  world ! "  she 
raised  her  hands,  clapping  loudly,  and  calling  out  "  Bravo  !  sir, 
bravo  !  "  in  sight  of  part  of  the  audience,  who  joined  in  her  applause. 

It  would  not  be  easy  to  describe  the  relief  I  felt  when  this  trying 
night  was  over.  The  next  morning  I  paid  my  required  visit  at  her 
hotel,  and  going  through  the  scenes  of  "  Douglas,"  carefully  recorded 
her  directions,  and,  in  a  more  composed  state  than  I  had  been  on  the 
previous  day,  took  my  leave.  I  was,  in  ordinary  terms,  "  at  home  "  in 
the  part  of  Norval,  and  of  course  acted  with  more  than  usual  care  and 
spirit.  But  who  that  had  ever  seen  it  could  forget  her  performance 
of  Lady  Randolph  ?  In  the  part  of  Mrs.  Beverley  the  image  of  con- 
jugal devotion  was  set  off  with  every  charm  of  grace  and  winning  soft- 
ness. In  Lady  Randolph  the  sorrows  of  widowhood  and  the  maternal 
fondness  of  the  chieftain's  daughter  assumed  a  loftier  demeanor,  but 
still  the  mother's  heart  showed  itself  above  all  power  of  repression  by 
conventional  control.  In  her  first  interview  with  Norval,  presented 
as  Lord  Randolph's  defender  from  the  assassins,  the  mournful  admira- 
tion of  her  look,  as  she  fixed  her  gaze  upon  him,  plainly  told  that  the 
tear  which  Randolph  observed  to  start  in  her  eye  was  nature's  parental 
instinct  in  the  presence  of  her  son.  The  violence  of  her  agitation 
while  listening  to  old  Norval's  narration  of  the  perils  of  her  infant 
seemed  beyond  her  power  longer  to  endure,  and  the  words,  faintly  ar- 
ticulated, as  if  the  last  effort  of  a  mortal  agony,  "  Was  he  alive  ?  "  sent 


12  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  HI. 

an  electric  thrill  through  the  audience.  In  disclosing  the  secret  of  his 
Itirth  to  Norvul,  and  acknowledging  herself  his  mother,  how  exquisite 
was  the  tenderness  with  which  she  gave  loose  to  the  indulgence  of  her 
affection  !  As  he  knelt  before  her  she  wreathed  her  fingers  in  his 
hair,  parted  it  from  his  brow,  in  silence  looking  into  his  features  to 
trace  there  the  resemblance  of  the  husband  of  her  love,  then  dropping 
on  her  knees,  and  throwing  her  arms  around  him,  she  showered  kisses 
on  him,  and  again  fastened  her  eyes  on  his,  repeating  the  lino. 

"  Image  of  Douglas !     Fruit  of  fatal  love ! 
All  that  I  owp  thy  sire  I  pay  to  thee ! " 

Her  parting  instructions,  under  the  influence  of  her  fears  for  her  son's 
safety,  were  most  affectingly  delivered.  When  he  had  fallen  under 
the  treacherous  stab  of  Glenalvon,  she  had  sunk  in  a  state  of  insensi- 
bility on  his  body.  On  the  approach  of  Randolph  and  Anna  she  be- 
gan to  recover  recollection.  To  Randolph's  excuses  her  short  and 
rapid  reply,  "  Of  thee  I  think  not !  "  spoke  her  indifference,  and  dis- 
regard of  every  worldly  thing  beyond  the  beloved  object  stretched  in 
death  before  her.  Leaning  over  him,  and  gazing  with  despairing 
fondness  on  his  face,  she  spoke  out  in  her  heart-rending  tones  — 

"  My  son  !  —  My  son  ! 

My  beautiful,  my  brave  !  —  How  proud  was  I 
Of  thee,  and  of  thy  valor ;  my  fond  heart  , 

O'erflowed  this  day  with  transport  when  I  thought 
Of  growing  old  amidst  a  race  of  thine  !  " 

The  anguish  of  her  soul  seemed  at  length  to  have  struck  her  brain. 
The  silence  of  her  fixed  and  vacant  stare  was  terrible,  broken  at  last 
by  a  loud  and  frantic  laugh  that  made  the  hearers  shudder.  She  then 
sprang  up,  and,  with  a  few  self-questioning  words  indicating  her  pur- 
pose of  self-destruction,  hurried  in  the  wild  madness  of  desperation 
from  the  scene. 

On  that  evening  I  was  engaged  to  a  ball  "  where  all  the  beauties  " 
—  not  of  Verona,  but  of  Newcastle  —  were  to  meet.  Mrs.  Siddons 
after  the  play  sent  to  me  to  say,  when  I  was  dressed,  she  would  be 
triad  to  see  me  in  her  room.  On  going  in,  she  "wished,"  she  said, 
"  to  give  me  a  few  words  of  advice  before  taking  leave  of  me.  You 
are  in  the  right  way,"  she  said,  "but  remember  what  I  say,  study. 
study,  study,  and  do  not  marry  till  you  are  thirty.  I  remember  what 
it  was  to  be  obliged  to  study  at  nearly  your  age  with  a  young  family 
about  me.  Beware  of  that :  keep  your  mind  on  your  art,  do  not  re- 
mit your  study  and  you  are  certain  to  succeed.  I  know  you  are  ex- 
pected at  a  ball  to-night,  so  I  \\\\\  not  detain  you,  but  do  not  forget 
my  words:  study  \\vll,  and  God  bless  you."  Her  words  lived  with 
me,  and  often  in  moments  of  despondency  have  come  to  cheer  me. 
Her  acting  was  a  revelation  to  me,  which  ever  after  had  its  influence 
on  me  in  the  study  of  my  art.  Ease,  grace,  untiring  energy  through 
all  the  variations  of  human  passion,  blended  into  that  grand  and  mas- 
sive style,  had  been  with  her  the  result  of  patient  application.  Oil 


1811-12.  THE   YOUNG  ROSCIUS.  43 

first  witnessing   her  wonderful    impersonations  I  may  say  with   the 

poet : 

"  Then  felt  I  like  some  watcher  of  the  skies 
When  a  new  planet  swims  into  his  ken." 

And  I  can  only  liken  the  effect  they  produced  on  me,  in  developing 
new  trains  of  thought,  to  the  awakening  power  that  Michael  Angelo's 
sketch  of  the  colossal  head  in  the  Farnesina  is  said  to  have  had  on 
the  mind  of  Raphael. 

Little  of  interest  occurred  during  the  remainder  of  the  season.  I 
acted  Rolla  in  a  translation  from  Kotzebue's  "  Virgin  of  the  Sun," 
a  melodramatic  kind  of  blustering  hero,  given  in  London  to  Young, 
where  the  play  was  produced  chiefly  on  the  speculation  of  attraction 
from  the  machinist's  work  in  the  representation  of  an  earthquake. 
From  Newcastle  the  company  was  transferred  to  Birmingham,  where 
I  continued  my  regular  course  of  study,  rehearsing,  acting,  and  at- 
tending to  the  general  business  of  the  stage.  Holman  and  his  daugh- 
ter appeared  for  a  few  nights,  giving  me  another  opportunity  of  see- 
ing the  acting  of  a  by-gone  time.  He  was  remarkably  handsome, 
though  inclined  to  obesity,  his  tendency  to  which  he  endeavored  to 
combat  by  a  chicken  diet.  He  was  vain  of  his  person,  but  very  pleas- 
ing in  his  manners,  well  educated,  having  taken  his  Master's  degree 
at  Oxford,  and  ought  to  have  reached  a  higher  degree  in  his  art  if  he 
had  thought  more  of  it  and  less  of  himself.  He  was  said  to  have 
been  in  his  youth  very  animated ;  so  much  so,  as  to  be  reported  on 
one  occasion,  "  In  the  very  torrent,  tempest,  and  whirlwind  of  his  pas- 
sion," to  have  lost  so  much  his  self-command  as  to  miss  his  footing 
and  precipitate  himself  over  the  footlights  into  the  orchestra  in  the 
midst  of  the  astonished  musicians.  But  now  the  fire  was  spent,  and 
in  his  acting  he  was  as  cold  and  artificial  in  his  practiced  tones  and 
movements  as  an  automaton.  He  was  to  be  respected  as  a  perfect 
gentleman,  but  nothing  was  to  be  gained  from  him  in  theory  or  prac- 
tice on  the  score  of  art. 

Some  little  time  previous  (I  think  in  the  winter)  W.  H.  West 
Betty,  the  ci-devant  young  Roscius,  after  leaving  Cambridge  reap- 
peared on  the  stage  at  Bath,  where  he  played  through  a  long  and 
very  successful  engagement,  much  followed  and  caressed  by  the  fash- 
ionables of  the  place.  His  figure  no  longer  retained  its  symmetrical 
proportions,  having  grown  bulky  and  heavy,  but  his  face  was  very 
handsome.  He,  with  well  calculated  judgment,  had  determined  on 
gleaning  what  he  could  from  the  country  theaters  before  hazarding  a 
venture  in  presence  of  a  London  audience.  Being  announced  to  per 
form  two  nights  at  Wolverhampton,  my  father,  with  the  expectation 
that  he  would  joyfully  welcome  his  former  play-fellow,  sent  me  over 
to  see  him  and  propose  an  engagement  at  Birmingham. 

The  coach  set  me  down  at  his  inn  some  time  before  his  arrival,  for 
which  I  waited  with  some  impatience.  He  was  to  act  Achmet  that  same 
evening,  but  there  was  no  excitement  in  the  town  on  that  occasion. 
At  about  three  o'clock  the  waiter  gave  me  notice  that  Mr.  Betty  was 


44  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  III. 

comim:.  and  I  hastened  out  of  the  coffee-room  to  meet  him,  as  he  drove 
in  his  tandem  into  the  gates.  I  introduced  myself  with  all  the  hearti- 
ness of  an  old  acquaintance,  and  was  somewhat  mortified  by  his  cool 
reception  of  me.  He  gave  directions  about  his  carriage  and  horses, 
and  went  to  the  room  prepared  for  him ;  I,  a  coach  passenger,  and  one 
of  little  note,  retired  to  the  coffee-room,  where  I  ordered  dinner,  and 
sat  chewing  the  cud  of  my  slighted  advances.  In  a  little  time,  as  if  he 
had  bethought  himself,  he  came  into  the  room,  and  with  an  altered 
manner  entered  into  conversation.  On  seeing  the  preparations  for  in y 
dinner,  he  requested  me  to  order  it  into  his  room,  that  we  might  talk 
over  matters  without  fear  of  interruption.  "With  this  arrangement  we 
discussed  the  subject  of  the  proposed  engagement,  and  he  agreed  to 
give  my  father  the  earliest  notice  of  the  time  at  his  disposal.  At  night 
1  saw  him  act,  but  seemingly  in  a  careless  way,  the  house  being  but 
indifferent.  After  some  weeks  he  came  to  Birmingham,  and  played 
to  moderately  good  receipts  a  round  of  his  characters.  His  subsequent 
appearance  in  London  was  a  failure,  but  I  am  disposed  to  think  his 
talents  were  not  fairly  appreciated.  It  seemed  as  if  the  public  resented 
on  the  grown  man  the  extravagance  of  the  idolatry  they  had  blindly 
lavished  on  the  boy.  There  was  a  peculiarity  in  his  level  elocution 
that  was  not  agreeable,  a  sort  of  sing-song  and  a  catch  in  his  voice 
that  suggested  to  the  listener  the  delivery  of  words  learned  by  heart, 
not  flowing  from  the  impulse  or  necessity  of  the  occasion  ;  but  when 
wanned  into  passion  he  became  possessed  with  the  spirit  of  the  scene, 
and  in  witnessing  as  I  have  done  his  illustration  of  passages  with  all 
the  originality  and  fire  of  genius,  the  conviction  was  pressed  upon  me 
that  if  he  had  not  to  his  prejudice  the  comparison  of  his  boyish  tri- 
umphs, and  the  faulty  manner  derived  from  frequent  careless  repetition, 
he  would  have  maintained  a  distinguished  position  in  his  maturer 
years. 

In  an  engagement  with  Miss  Smith  I  acted  Lord  Hastings  in  "  Jane 
Shore,"  Percy  in  the  play  of  that  name,  and  Orestes  in  the  "  Distrest 
Mother : "  in-the  two  latter  characters  I  was  sensible  of  considerable 
improvement  From  the  acting  of  Mrs.  Siddons  I  had  received  a  great 
lesson.  Where  opportunity  presented  itself,  she  never  failed  to  bring 
out  the  passion  of  -the  scene  and  the  meaning  of  the  poet  by  gesture 
and  action  more  powerfully,  I  am  convinced,  than  he  originally  con- 
ceived it ;  but  in  giving  life,  and  as  it  were  reality,  to  the  character  she 
represented,  she  never  resorted  to  trick  or  introduced  what  actors  call 
"  business,"  frequently  inappropriate,  and  resulting  from  the  want  of 
intelligence  to  penetrate  the  depth  of  the  emotions  to  be  portrayed. 

In  contrast  to  the  grand  simplicity  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  Miss  Smith's 
attempts  at  effect  were  as  manifest  as  they  were  injudicious.  I  par- 
ticularly remember  one  instance.  In  a  mad  scene  of  Elwina,  she  took 
her  scarf  from  her  shoulders,  and  busied  herself  for  some  time  in  array- 
ing in  it  the  fancied  figure  standing  before  her  of  her  lover  Percy,  and 
while  the  drapery  fell  to  the  ground,  smiled  complacently  on  what  she 
meant  to  be  the  accomplishment  of  her  design,  but  to  which  the  senses 


1811-12.  MISS  SMITH.  45 

of  the  spectator  gave  a  direct  contradiction,  as  her  own  sense  should 
have  told  her  must  be  the  case.  She  had  a  good  voice,  and  what 
would  be  called  a  good  stage  face ;  but  of  the  soul,  that  goes  to  the 
making  of  an  artist,  there  was  none.  Vehemence  and  noise  were  with 
her,  as  with  so  many  mediocre  performers,  the  interpreters  of  passion. 
She  for  some  years  retained  in  Drury  Lane  possession  of  the  leading 
characters,  faute  de  mieux,\)\it  made  no  impression  on  the  public.  Her 
engagement  at  Covent  Garden  did  not  extend  beyond  the  last  season, 
in  which  she  was  the  Cora  in  the  play  of  the  "  Virgin  of  the  Sun;' 
In  the  earthquake  scene  of  that  play,  before  alluded  to,  Alonzo  rescues 
Cora  from  the  falling  ruins  of  the  Temple  of  the  Sun,  in  which  scene 
the  single  good  speech  of  Alonzo,  acted  by  Huntley,  a  young  performer 
of  some  talent,  had  place.  But  to  the  great  distress  and  mortification 
of  poor  Huntley,  who  on  the  three  or  four  first  nights  had  been  warmly 
applauded  in  his  speech,  Miss  Smith  was,  every  night  after,  overpow- 
ered by  her  feelings,  and,  fainting  in  his  arms,  he  was  obliged  to  carry 
her  off'.  Young,  who  felt  for  the  disappointment  of  the  young  actor, 
consoled  him  with  the  intimation  that  they  would  find  a  remedy  for 
these  periodical  fainting-fits,  and  prepared  the  actors  accordingly.  At 
the  usual  point  of  the  scene,  Cora  sank  as  usual  into  the  arms  of  Alonzo, 
who,  on  bearing  her  out  of  sight  of  the  audience,  was  met  by  a  crowd 
of  the  players  bustling  about  in  affected  eagerness  of  sympathy  and  con- 
cern, Young  loudest  among  them  to  "  carry  the  poor  Cora  into  the 
greenroom,"  where  a  roaring  fire  had  been  got  ready.  She  was  laid 
on  a  couch  over  the  fender,  cloaks  laid  over  her,  and  a  glass  of  hot  water 
put  to  her  lips ;  she  soon  recovered  under  these  restoratives,  and  re- 
tired to  her  dressing-room,  but  was  never  known  to  faint  again  whilst 
she  remained  in  the  theatre. 

At  Birmingham  this  season  I  added  but  few  new  characters  to  my 
repertoire  —  among  them  Zaphna,  in  Hill's  bald  translation  of  Vol- 
taire's "  Mahomet."  An  incident  at  this  period,  originating  in  my  ap- 
petite for  a  frolic,  proved  to  me  an  experience  that  operated  advan- 
tageously in  the  correction  of  precipitation  in  judgment  through  subse- 
quent years.  The  announcement  was  shown  to  me  in  the  greenroom 
of  one  of  our  inferior  actors,  named  Wilson,  for  the  part  of  lago  at 
Sutton  Coldfield,  where  a  strolling  company  was  acting  in  a  barn. 
The  name  of  the  actor  "  from  the  T.  R.  Birmingham  "  was  in  large 
type  in  the  play-bill,  "  for  the  benefit  of  the  manager."  The  fun  I  an- 
ticipated from  the  travestie  that  might  be  looked  for,  and  the  enjoy- 
ment of  Wilson's  consternation  at  seeing  his  chief  among  the  audience, 
made  it  an  easy  business  for  me  to  persuade  my  father  to  order  a 
chaise  and  make  the  eight  miles'  journey  ;  we  arrived  in  time  for  the 
second  scene  of  the  play,  and  were  soon  detected  in  the  pit  (there 
were  no  boxes)  by  the  keen-sighted  lago.  The  words  of  the  tragedy 
were  spoken  without  many  lapses,  and  the  performance,  whimsical  in 
some  of  its  makeshifts,  was  more  respectable,  though  very  dull,  than 
could  have  been  expected.  Returning  home,  I  was  remonstrating  with 
my  father  on  what  now  seemed  to  me  his  undervaluing  of  Wilson, 


46  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  III. 

whose  performance  of  lago  was  so  very  respectable,  and  so  much  be- 
yond what  I  had  looked  for  from  his  acting  at  Birmingham,  where  I 
thought  he  should  be  allowed  higher  characters  and  more  opportuni- 
ties. My  father's  retort  was  very  homely,  "You  fool,  William  !  can- 
not you  see  that  he  only  appeared  so  much  better  to  you  because  he 
was  by  the  side  of  actors  so  much  worse  than  himself?"  I  doubted 
the  correctness  of  the  remark  at  the  time  ;  but,  a  few  nights  after,  see- 
ing Wilson  beside  the  more  efficient  members  of  the  Birmingham  com- 
pany, I  was  obliged  to  confess  the  deception  of  my  judgment,  and  that 
he  was  in  truth  as  bad  as  I  had  at  first  thought  him.  This  was  a  les- 
son, which  taught  me  to  measure  a  player  by  the  conception  of  his  poet, 
and  by  the  severe  truth  of  nature,  guarding  myself  from  being  misled 
by  any  adventitious  or  false  effects. 

Before  the  close  of  the  season,  Mr.  W.  Dimoud,  the  author  of  sev- 
eral successful  plays,  and  manager  of  the  Bath  and  Bristol  Theaters, 
being  one  night  in  the  theater,  sent  round  a  note  to  express  his  wish 
to  see  me  after  the  play  on  business.  In  a  short  interview  in  my  dress- 
ing-room, he  inquired  if  I  should  have  any  objection  to  make  an  en- 
gagement at  Bath,  which  was  always  considered  the  stepping-stone  to 
London.  To  this  overture  I  stated  my  inability  to  leave  my  father, 
on  which  he  begged  me  to  bear  in  mind  the  willingness  of  the  Bath 
management  to  negotiate  with  me  whenever  I  should  think  of  changing 
my  present  position. 

The  second  visit  of  "  the  horses  "  gave  me  a  holiday  at  Parkgate, 
and  this  season,  which  was  not  a  profitable  one,  terminated  my  father's 
connection  with  Birmingham.  From  thence  the  company  was  removed 
in  the  autumn  to  Leicester,  where  Mrs.  Jordan  opened  the  theater,  act- 
ing two  nights.  If  Mrs.  Siddons  appeared  a  personification  of  the 
tragic  muse,  certainly  all  the  attributes  of  Thalia  were  most  joyously 
combined  in  Mrs.  Jordan.  With  a  spirit  of  fun,  that  would  have  out- 
laughed  Puck  himself,  there  was  a  discrimination,  an  indentity  with 
her  character,  an  artistic  arrangement  of  the  scene  that  made  all  appear 
spontaneous  and  accidental,  though  elaborated  with  the  greatest  care. 
Her  voice  was  one  of  the  most  melodious  I  ever  heard,  which  she  could 
vary  by  certain  bass  tones,  that  would  have  disturbed  the  gravity  of  a 
hermit ;  and  who  that  once  heard  that  laugh  of  hers  could  ever  forget 
it  ?  The  words  of  Milman  would  have  applied  well  to  her  —  "  Oh,  the 
words  laughed  on  her  lips  !  "  Mrs.  Nesbitt,  the  charming  actress  of  a 
later  day,  had  a  fascinating  power  in  the  sweetly-ringing  notes  of  her 
hearty  mirth,  but  Mrs.  Jordan's  laugh  was  so  rich,  so  apparently  irre- 
pressible, so  deliciously  self-enjoying,  as  to  be  at  all  times  irresistible. 
Its  contagious  power  would  have  broken  down  the  conventional  seren- 
ity of  Lord  Chesterfield  himself. 

Our  first  play  was  "  The  Wonder,  a  Woman  keeps  a  Secret,"  by 
Mrs.  Centlivre,  in  which  she  was  the  Violante.  I  had  to  prepare  to 
meet  this  unrivaled  artist  in  the  part  of  Don  Felix.  This  was  a  trial 
to  me ;  for  I  have  always  felt  something  like  an  instinctive  reverence 
for  genius,  in  whatsoever  range  of  art  or  science  it  may  have  developed 


1811-12.  MRS.  JORDAN.  47 

itself.  It  is  in  Macklin  s  clever  comedy  of  "  The  Man  of  the  World," 
that  Sir  Pertinax  Macsycophant  observes,  "  I  never  in  my  life  could 
stand  straight  in  the  presence  of  a  great  man.  I  always  bowed  and 
bowed,"  etc.  That  flexibility  of  spine. before  men  whom  wealth  or 
title  makes  great  to  the  eyes  of  many,  I  have  never  felt  but  in  the 
presence  of  those  endowed  by  nature  with  that  mental  superiority 
which  shines  out  in  true  genius ;  I  have  always  labored  under  the 
sense  of  my  own  comparative  littleness,  and  for  a  time  been  oppressed 
with  the  idea  of  my  inability  to  cope  with  them.  I  went  to  work, 
therefore,  with  my  usual  resolution  to  do  my  best  with  my  part,  but 
not  without  misgivings.  At  rehearsal  I  remarked,  as  I  watched  this 
charming  actress  intently  through  her  first  scene,  how  minute  and  how 
particular  her  directions  were  ;  nor  would  she  be  satisfied,  till  by  repe- 
tition she  had  seen  the  business  executed  exactly  to  her  wish.  The 
moving  picture,  the  very  life  of  the  scene  was  perfect  in  her  mind,  and 
she  transferred  it  in  all  its  earnestness  to  every  movement  on  the 
stage. 

When  the  cue  for  my  entrance  as  Felix  was  given,  it  was  not  with- 
out embarrassment  that  my  few  first  words  were  spoken  ;  but  her  good 
nature  soon  relieved  me,  for  when  I  expressed  the  love  that  wrestled 
with  a  suspicious  temper  in  the  words,  "  True  love  has  many  fears,  and 
fear  as  many  eyes  as  fame  ;  yet  sure  —  I  thitik  —  they  see  no  fault  in 
thee ! "  she  paused,  apparently  in  a  sort  of  surprise,  and  with  great 
and  grave  emphasis,  said,  "  Very  well  'indeed,  sir !  "  This  gave  me 
again  my  perfect  self-possession,  and  I  was  able  to  attend  to  all  her 
remarks  and  treasure  up  the  points,  in  which  she  gave  greater  prom- 
inence to  the  text.  I  have  seen  many  Violantes  since,  but  where  was 
there  one,  who  could,  like  her,  excite  the  bursts  of  rapture  in  an  au- 
dience, when  she  recovered  from  the  deadly  agony  into  which  her  fears 
of  discovery  had  thrown  her,  and  prepared  herself  for  her  triumph 
over  her  jealous  lover  ?  The  mode  in  which  she  taught  the  Flora  to 
act  her  parts  was  a  lesson  to  make  an  actress.  The  trite  quotation 
laudator  temporis  acti  is  equally  thrown,  as  an  accusation  or  a  sneer, 
in  the  teeth  of  those  who  dwell  upon  the  memory  of  what  no  longer 
exists.  But  it  is  not  alone  upon  the  strength  of  my  single  judgment 
that  I  set  so  high  a  value  on  the  art  which  these  gifted  individuals  dis- 
played ;  the  effect  they  produced  on  their  audiences  was  such  as  suc- 
ceeding aspirants  have  never  been  able  to  excel.  Mrs.  Jordan's  en- 
gagement was  finished  by  the  "  Belle's  Stratagem,"  in  which  she  acted 
Letitia  Hardy. 

The  new  Drury  Lane  Theater  was  opened  October  10th,  1812,  with 
Lord  Byron's  address,  which  he  had  been  solicited  by  the  committee, 
dissatisfied  with  those  sent  in  for  competition,  to  write  ;  and  upon  the 
heels  of  this  came  forth  the  "  Rejected  Addresses  "  of  James  and  Hor- 
ace Smith,  to  make  a  laugh  wherever  a  page  of  the  work  was  opened. 
The  Leicester  season  gave  me  practice,  and  added  to  my  experience 
without  any  particular  event  to  stamp  it  on  my  memory. 

At  Newcastle  the  theater  was  opened  by  Mrs.  Jordan  before  my  ar- 


.48  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES'.  CHAP.  III. 

rival  there,  and  I  do  not  recollect  what  were  her  characters.  My  at- 
tention was  given  to  the  revival  of  Shakespeare's  "  King  Richard  II. ; " 
a  play  of  the  performance  of  which  there  is  no  record  since  Shake- 
speare's time,  with  due  omissions.  I  had  prepared  it  for  representa- 
tion, and  it  was  produced  with  all  the  scenic  effect  that  the  limits  of  the 
theater  would  admit  of.  It  was  a  complete  success,  and  proved  the 
attraction  of  the  season;  but  though  applauded  in  the  acting,  it  has 
not  kept  the  stage ;  and  it  has  often  excited  the  wonder  of  Shake- 
spearean critics,  that  it  should  have  lain  so  long  neglected  and  still 
should  enjoy  so  little  popularity.  The  passion  of  its  language  and  the 
beauty  of  poetry  (considered  apart  from  effect  in  representation)  have 
dazzled  its  readers,  and  blinded  them  to  the  absence  of  any  marked 
idiosyncrasy  in  the  persons  of  the  drama,  and  to  the  want  of  strong 
purpose  in  any  of  them.  Not  one  does  anything  to  cause  a  result. 
All  seem  floated  along  on  the  tides  of  circumstance.  Nothing  has  its 
source  in  premeditation.  Richard's  acts  are  those  of  idle,  almost  child- 
ish, levity,  wanton  caprice,  or  unreflecting  injustice.  He  is  alternately 
confidently  boastful  and  pusillanimously  despondent.  His  extravagant 
persuasions  of  kingly  inviolability,  and  of  heavenly  interposition  in  his 
behalf,  meet  with  no  response  in  the  sympathies  of  an  audience.  His 
grief  is  that  of  a  spoiled,  passionate  boy  ;  but  the  language  in  which  it 
is  expressed  is  in  the  loftiest  strain  of  poetry  and  passion.  Boling- 
broke,  by  the  concurrence  of  events  beyond  his  calculation,  is  raised 
to  the  throne.  We  perceive  character  in  him  in  his  own  description 
of  himself  in  the  "  First  Part  of  King  Henry  IV.,"  but  in  his  entrances 
and  exits  through  this  play  there  is  nothing  to  distinguish  him  :  so  by 
York's  touching  picture  of  the  degraded  Richard's  humiliating  entry 
into  London  our  feelings  are  more  deeply  interested  than  by  all  the 
fretful  wailings,  reproaches,  and  denunciations,  eloquent  and  earnest 
as  they  are,  of  the  deposed  King.  York  is  a  good,  easy  man,  yielding 
to  every  impulse,  bending  to  every  breeze  that  blows.  Aumerle  is  a 
courtier  and  conspirator,  unmarked  by  any  peculiarity  of  concerted 
plan  or  urgent  motive.  In  all  the  greater  plays  of  Shakespeare  pur- 
pose and  will,  the  general  foundations  of  character,  are  the  engines 
which  set  action  at  work.  In  "  King  Richard  II."  we  look  for  these 
in  vain.  Macbeth,  Othello,  lago,  Hamlet,  Richard  III-,  etc.,  both 
think  and  do  ;  but  Richard  II.,  Bolingbroke,  York,  and  the  rest,  though 
they  talk  so  well,  do  little  else  than  talk,  nor  can  all  the  charm  of  com- 
position redeem,  in  a  dramatic  point  of  view,  the  weakness  resulting 
from  this  accident  in  a  play's  construction.  In  none  of  his  persona- 
tions did  the  late  Edmund  Kean  display  more  masterly  elocution  th:m 
in  the  third  act  of  "  Richard  II. ;  "  but  the  admiration  he  excited  could 
not  maintain  a  place  for  the  work  in  the  list  of  acting  plays  among  the 
favorite  dramas  of  Shakespeare. 

My  other  new  characters  this  season  were  Dorax  in  an  adaptation 
by  Reynolds  of  Dryden's  "  Don  Sebastian,"  Oroonoko  in  Southern's 
affecting  tragedy  of  that  name,  King  Richard  III.,  and  Mark  Antony 
in  Shakespeare's  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra."  My  attempt  in  Richard 


1811-12.  ANECDOTES  OF   G.  F.   COOKE.  49 

was  received  with  approbation,  though  my  figure  was  unsuited  to  the 
part ;  an  objection  I  have  always  felt,  even  when  borne  along  by  the 
fervent  applause  of  the  audience.  A  humped-back  tall  rnan  is  not  in 
nature,  and  I  felt  myself  contradicting  in  my  appearance  the  words 
Shakespeare  had  given  me  to  speak,  —  an  interference  with  that  per- 
suasion of  reality  under  which,  to  be  master  of  his  audience,  every 
actor  should  endeavor  to  bring  himself.  My  aim  in  the  study  and  pres- 
entation of  a  character  has  been  always  indentical  with  that  of  the 
German  actor  Schroeder,  who,  in  reply  to  the  encomiums  of  his  ad- 
mirers on  some  particular  passage  or  scene,  would  impatiently  exclaim, 
"  Ai-je  bienjoue  le  role  ?  Ai-je  ete  le  persannage  ?  " 

My  remembrance,  too,  of  George  Frederic  Cooke,  whose  peculiari- 
ties added  so  much  to  the  effect  of  his  performance,  served  to  detract 
from  my  confidence  in  assuming  the  crooked-back  tyrant.  Cooke's 
varieties  of  tone  seemed  limited  to  a  loud  harsh  croak  descending  to 
the  lowest  audible  murmur ;  but-  there  was  such  significance  in  each 
inflexion,  look,  and  gesture,  and  such  impressive  earnestness  in  his 
whole  bearing,  that  he  compelled  your  attention  and  interest.  He 
was  the  Richard  of  his  day  ;  and  in  Shylock,  lago,  Sir  Archy  Macsar- 
casm,  and  Sir  Pertinax  Macsycophant,  he  defied  competition.  His 
popularity  far  excelled  that  of  Kemble  ;  but  he  became  the  very  slave 
of  intemperance,  remaining  at  times  for  days  together  in  a  state  of  de- 
bauch. His  habits  of  inebriety  subjected  him  frequently  to  the  signal 
disapprobation  of  his  audience,  upon  whom  he  would  sometimes  retort 
with  more  vehemence  than  delicacy.  It  is  reported  of  him,  that  on 
one  occasion,  when  a  young  officer  in  the  stage-box  made  himself  con- 
spicuous in  interrupting  the  play,  Cooke  went  close  up  to  him,  and  in 

his  distinctly  audible  pianissimo  addressed  him :  "  D n  you,  sir  ! 

You  are  an  ensign  ?  Sir,  the  King  (God  bless  him)  can  make  any 
fool  an  officer,  but  it  is  only  the  great  God  Almighty  that  can  make 
an  actor  !  "  At  another  time,  in  Liverpool,  when  scarcely  able  to  go 
through  his  part,  the  audience  most  justly  manifested  their  indignation  ; 
he  stopped,  and  addressed  to  them  this  insolent  affront :"  Your  ap- 
plause or  your  disapproval  are  indifferent  to  me :  there's  not  one  brick 
xipon  another  in  your  town,  that  is  not  cemented  with  a  fellow-creat- 
ure's blood ! "  alluding  to  the  African  Slave  Trade,  then  principally 
carried  on  in  Liverpool  ships. 

His  face  was  only  expressive  of  the  sterner  emotions,  of  which  a 
whimsical  evidence  was  afforded  one  evening,  when,  something  the 
worse  for  wine  or  spirits  he  had  drunk  he  volunteered  to  exhibit  to  a 
young  man  sitting  opposite  to  him  the  various  passions  of  the  human 
heart  in  the  successive  changes  of  his  countenance.  Accordingly, 
having  fixed  his  features,  he  -  triumphantly  asked  his  admirer,  "  Now, 
sir,  what  passion  is  that  ?  "  The  young  gentleman,  with  complacent 
confidence,  replied,  "  That  is  revenge,  Mr.  Cooke."  "  Y"ou  lie,  sir  ; 
it 's  love  !  "  was  Cooke's  abrupt  rejoinder.  But,  when  in  possession 
of  himself,  his  manners  were  most  pleasing  and  his  address  most 
gentlemanly.  Two  of  my  school-fellows,  Henry  and  William  Hanmer, 
4 


50  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  III. 

sons  of  Sir  Thomas  IIanmer,'in  returning  from  the  holidays  to  Ku^by, 
supped  one  evening  with  my  father  after  the  play,  in  which  Cooke  hud 
been  acting.  Cooke  was  of  the  party.  Henry  Ilanmer,  then  a  youu^ 
man,  subsequently  a  Colonel  in  the  Guards,  was  quite  charmed  with 
his  mild  and  agreeable  manners  and  his  interesting  conversation.  As 
of  many  others,  it  used  to  be  said  of  him,  that  he  was  no  one's  enemy 
but  his  own  ;  a  shallow  compliment,  flattering  the  easiness  of  his  dis- 
position at  the  expense  of  more  solid  and  indispensable  qualities. 

The  part  of  Mark  Antony  was  announced  for  my  own  "  benefit," 
and  signalized  by  an  extraordinary  occurrence.  The  partiality  that 
was  invariably  manifested  towards  me  in  Newcastle,  where  I  was  to 
my  latest  appearance  spoken  of  as  William  Macready,  or  Mr.  William, 
never  failed  to  display  itself  on  the  occasion  of  my  "  benefit  nights." 
Every  place  in  the  boxes  had  been  taken  some  days  before ;  and  from 
the  demand  for  tickets,  an  overflowing  house  was,  as  usual,  looked  for. 
But  on  the  morning  of  the  day,  the  box-keeper,  with  a  very  rueful 
countenance,  came  up  to  our  lodgings,  at  some  distance  from  the 
theater,  to  inform  my  father  that  in  the  night  there  had  been  affixed 
on  the  box-entrance  door  a  paper  with  doggerel  rhymes,  to  the  effect 
that  1  had  "  shamefully  misused  and  even  kicked  "  (!)  a  Miss  Sulivan, 
a  very  pretty  girl,  an  actress  in  the  theater,  who  was  that  night  to  per- 
form Cleopatra.  Although  it  was  not  an  unfrequent  practice  of  coun- 
try actresses  to  endeavor  to  advance  their  interests  by  representing 
themselves  as  ill-used  by  the  manager  and  creating  a  party  feeling 
against  him,  I  think  she  was  perfectly  innocent  of  any  participation 
in  this  attempt  to  damage  me  in  public  opinion.  My  attentions  at 
that  time  were  addressed  more  pointedly  to  another  frequenter  of  the 
greenroom,  than  to  her,  and  this  could  have  been  the  only  ground  of 
dissatisfaction,  if  any  existed  ;  for  the  "  manager's  son "  was  of  no 
little  consideration  in  the  limits  of  a  greenroom  circle.  The  paper 
had  attracted  crowds  before  it  had  been  removed,  and  the  excitement 
was  as  great  in  the  town  as  if  the  theater  had  been  blown  up ;  but  the 
general  feeling  was  one  of  indignation  at  the  calumny  and  the  dastardly 
means  adopted  to  circulate  it.  When  informed  of  it,  I  determined  not 
to  hold  conversation  of  any  kind,  nor  to  exchange  one  word  with  Mi-s 
Sulivan  until  I  appeared  with  her  on  the  stage  at  night.  Friends,  and 
persons  not  known  before,  thronged  to  the  box-office  in  the  morning 
to  express  their  abhorrence  of  this  infamous  libel,  and  many  stopped 
me  in  the  street  to  testify  the  friendly  sentiment  toward  me  that 
pervaded  the  town  on  the  subject.  So  monstrous  an  accusation,  and 
its  base  intention,  naturally  agitated  me  ;  but  in  the  consciousness  of 
freedom  from  all  violation  of  gentleman-like  deportment  towards  the 
actresses  my  im'nd  was  clear,  and  resolved  on  the  course  to  pursue. 
The  night  came  ;  every  "  hole  and  corner,"  to  use  the  common  phrase, 
was  filled  long  before  the  curtain  rose.  Upon  my  entrance  with  Cleo- 
patra, Miss  Sulivan,  in  my  hand,  the  applause  and  shouting  were  deaf- 
ening. When  silence  was  obtained,  I  went  forward,  and  addressing 
the  audience,  observed  that,  indebted  to  them  as  I  was  for  many  proofs 


1813-14.  AS  HAMLET  IN  GLASGOW.  ol 

of  their  favor,  I  was  more  obliged  to  them  for  the  confidence  in  me 
they  showed  that  night,  than  for  all  their  previous  indulgence  ;  and, 
alluding  to  "  the  paper,"  stated  that  I  had  designedly  not  spoken  to 
Miss  Sulivan  since  I  had  heard  of  it,  but  that  I  would  now  request 
her  to  answer  before  them  to  some  questions.  "  Have  I  ever  been 
guilty  of  any  injustice  of  any  kind  to  you  since  you  have  been  in  the 
theater  ?"  Her  answer,  u  No,  sir,"  was  received  with  shouts.  "Have 
I  ever  behaved  to  you  in  an  ungentlemanlike  manner  ?  "  "  No,  sir." 
Loud  shouts  repeated.  "  It  is  unnecessary  to  ask,  but  to  satisfy  the 
writer  of  the  anonymous  libel,  have  I  ever  kicked  you  ? "  Her  an- 
swer of  "  Oh,  no,  sir  !  "  was  given  amid  the  hearty  exclamations  and 
laughter  of  the  excited  crowds  of  box,  pit,  and  gallery,  and  the  play 
proceeded,  but  Avith  little  effect ;  for  Antony,  the  voluptuary  and  dot- 
ing spoiled  child  of  fortune,  was  not  within  the  compass  of  a  tyro  as  I 
then  was.  This  was  the  first  attempt  I  had  to  encounter  of  this  sort 
of  stabbing  in  the  dark.  I  lament  to  add,  I  became  more  familiarized 
to  it  as  my  experience  extended  ;  the  object  of  my  assailant  was  noth- 
ing less  than  my  ruin  ;  in  one  instance  my  life  was  aimed  at,  but  that 
was  not  in  England. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

1813-1814.  —  First  appearance  as  Hamlet  in  Glasgow  —  Further  new  parts  — 
Power  of  rapid  study  —  Sinclair  —  Mrs.  Bishop  —  Dumfries  —  Acting  with 
Betty  —  Newcastle  —  Criticism  on  Betty's  acting  —  Separation  from  father  — 
Brother  enters  the  army  as  a  volunteer  private  —  Reconciliation  with  father  — 
Comes  of  age  —  Risks  of  a  player's  life  —  Charles  Kemble  and  his  wife  —  Adap- 
tation of '•  Marmion  "  —  Barnard  Castle,  Raby,  Rokeby  —  Adaptation  of  Scott's 
"  Rokeby  "  — Father  builds  new  theatre  at  Carlisle  —  Holiday  at  Holy  Island 
—  Escape  from  a  quicksand  —  Performance  to  an  audience  of  three  persons  at 
Berwick,  on  night  of  general  illumination  — Young  and  Emery  —  A  wonderful 
effort  of  memory  —  Miss  O'Neill's  appearance  at  Covent  Garden.  —  Remarkable 
accident  at  Newcastle  —  Engagement  at  Bath. 

THE  Glasgow  and  Dumfries  theaters  were  now  to  be  let,  and  my 
father  decided  on  trying  his  fortune  with  them.  From  Newcastle  there- 
fore he  transferred  his  company  to  Glasgow.  The  opening  night  pre- 
sented a  very  fair  attendance,  but  on  my  father's  remark  to  one  of  the 
old  servants  of  the  theater,  that  the  house  was  very  good,  "  Ay,  but," 
he  replied,  "  it  will  be  better  when  "  —  after  a  pause  —  "  his  honor 
there,  I  believe,  comes  out ;  "  and  his  prediction  was  fulfilled  in  an  im- 
proved appearance  of  pit,  box,  and  gallery,  to  the  tragedy  of  "  Hamlet," 
in  which  I  made  my  first  bow  before  a  Glasgow  audience.  That  au- 
dience I  remember  with  peculiar  satisfaction  —  the  knots  of  regular 
play-goers,  that  used  to  club  together  in  the  two  corners  of  the  pit,  and 
with  their  murmurs  of  approval  every  now  and  then  encouraged  the 
young  actor  with  the  belief  that  they  gave  their  thoughts  to  what  was 


52  MACREADyS  REMINISCENCES.  CUAP.  IV. 

going  on  before  them,  were  calculated  to  give  confidence  to  his  attempts, 
and  made  him  feel  that  what  he  did  was  examined  and  scrutinized  by 
a  deliberate  judgment. 

In  the  course  of  this  summer  season  I  repeated  the  various  charac- 
ters of  my  list,  adding  to  them  Captain  Plume  in  Farquhar's  ''  Kecruit- 
ing  Officer,"  a  part  I  entered  into  with  peculiar  zest ;  Tangent  in 
Morton's  ''  Way  to  get  Married  ; "  Lovemore  in  "  The  Way  to  keep 
Him  ;  "  Dovicourt  in  Mrs.  Cowley's  "  Belle's  Stratagem  ; "  Puff  in 
Sheridan's  "  Critic ; "  Young  Marlow  in  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer  ;  " 
and  Mark  Antony  in  "  Julius  Caesar."  In  this  splendid  theater,  which 
was  the  largest  out  of  the  metropolis,  I  derived  benefit  from  the  neces- 
sity I  was  under  of  more  careful  study  and  practice,  and  the  improve- 
ment I  made  was  perceptible  to  me. 

On  one  occasion  I  had  to  task  my  powers  of  memory.  The  new 
play  by  Morton,  called  "  Education,"  had  been  commenced  with  the 
usual  parade  of  a  novelty ;  and  the  part  of  Count  Villars,  a  French 
refugee,  acted  by  Charles  Young  hi  London,  had  been  cast  to  one  of 
the  best  of  my  father's  company,  an  actor  of  some  talent  of  the  name 
of  Grant.  He  had  read  his  part  at  every  rehearsal,  and  held  it  in  his 
hand  on  the  morning  of  the  play  ;  but  before  the  rehearsal  ended,  he 
disappeared,  and  sent  word  to  the  theater  that  he  was  too  ill  to  act 
that  night.  The  dismay  was  great,  and  there  was  much  perplexity  as 
to  the  measures  to  be  adopted.  I  was  sent  for  by  my  father  to  decide 
on  the  change  to  be  made ;  but  as  this  in  theaters  is  regarded  as  the 
last  resource  and  always  prejudicial,  I  asked  for  the  book  and  deter- 
mined, if  I  could  not  perfect  myself  in  the  words  of  the  part,  to  read 
it,  rather  than  allow  the  play  to  be  changed.  It  was  two  o'clock  in  the 
day.  I  ran  through  the  scenes  in  rehearsal,  and,  going  home,  shut 
myself  up  to  work  at  my  task.  An  explanation  was  given  to  the  au- 
dience of  the  reason  of  the  change,  and  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  getting 
through  my  undertaking  without  missing  one  single  word  in  the  acting 
of  the  part.  At  a  very  short  notice,  not  to  stop  the  production  of  the 
romance  of  "  Aladdin,"  I  undertook  in  it  the  part  of  the  magician,  pre- 
viously cast  to  Grant,  and,  making  something  of  a  character  of  it,  added 
to  the  effect  of  the  piece. 

In  the  course  of  the  season  an  engagement  was  made  with  Sinclair, 
and  Mrs.  Bishop,  who  was  accompanied  by  her  husband,  the  eminent 
composer,  afterwards  Sir  Henry  Bishop.  Sinclair  had  made  a  suc- 
cessful debut  in  London,  and  gamed  some  popularity  in  the  song  of 
';  Pray,  Goody,  please  to  moderate  the  rancor  of  your  tongue,"  in  the 
burletta  of  "  Midas,"  which  he  was  obliged  nightly  to  sing  three  times 
at  the  call  of  the  audience.  He  was  rather  a  rough  Scotchman,  and  it 
is  related  of  him,  that  when  John  Kemble  recommended  him,  in  order 
to  further  his  success,  to  place  himself  under  D'Egville  to  acquire  more 
ease  and  grace  in  his  action  and  deportment,  as  he  himself  in  his  youth 
had  taken  lessons  from  La  Pique,  Sinclair  with  his  strong  Scotch  accent 
replied,  "  I  thank  ye,  sir ;  1'se  vera  wed  where  I  be."  During  the  New- 
castle race  week,  my  characters  in  comedy  being  novelties  were  sue- 


1813-14.  SEPARATION  FROM  FATHER.  53 

cessful  and  attractive,  which  induced  me  to  give  much  attention  to  that 
department  of  my  art. 

A  short  season  was  made  in  the  pretty  town  of  Dumfries,  where  we 
had  great  difficulty  in  procuring  lodgings,  and  were  at  last  glad  to  find 
refuge  in  very  humble  ones.  Players  had  left  but  an  indifferent  name 
there,  and  we  suffered  for  the  faults  or  misfortunes  of  our  predecessors. 
After  repeating  most  of  my  characters,  and  leaving  a  better  opinion 
of  our  troop  than  we  had  found  there,  we  returned  for  the  short  re- 
mainder of  the  year  to  Glasgow.  I  had  laid  out  a  plan,  which  would 
have  greatly  improved  my  father's  fortunes,  of  keeping  open  at  the 
same  time  the  two  theaters  at  Glasgow  and  Newcastle,  but  unhappily 
it  was  abandoned,  and  too  late  regretted.  At  Glasgow  "  King  Richard 
II."  was  produced  with  great  care,  but  succeeded  only  in  obtaining  the 
applause  of  scanty  audiences. 

Betty,  who  continued  his  tour  through  the  country,  was  engaged  for 
a  limited  number  of  nights.  He  dined  with  us  on  the  day  of  his  ar- 
rival, and  in  the  evening  I  was  to  act  Frederic  in  "  Lovers'  Vows." 
The  servant  had  been  sent  up-stairs  to  get  a  pocket-handkerchief  for 
me  to  put  with  my  dress,  which  was  to  be  sent  to  the  theater,  and 
brought  me  down  a  white  one.  I  asked  the  man,  how  could  he  sup- 
pose a  common  soldier  as  Frederic  is,  would  have  a  white  pocket- 
handkerchief,  ordering  him  to  bring  me  a  colored  one,  on  which 
Betty  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  my  boy !  you  think  of  such  things  as  these, 
do  you  ?  " 

A  misunderstanding  with  the  proprietors  of  the  theater  compelled 
my  father  to  abridge  his  season ;  and,  to  supply  him  with  funds,  which 
were  very  much  needed,  I  proposed  to  study  two  characters  in  Betty's 
plays,  which  combination  attracted  two  very  full  houses.  In  Dimond's 
play  of  "  The  Royal  Oak,"  I  took  the  part  of  William  Wyndham, 
Betty  acting  King  Charles  ;  and  in  Dr.  Franklin's  tragedy  of  the  "  Earl 
of  Warwick,"  Betty  took  the  Earl,  and  King  Edward  IV.  was  under- 
taken by  myself.  It  was  my  first  trial  of  strength  with  a  player  of 
celebrity,  and  in  it  I  can  bear  testimony  to  the  very  clever  acting  of 
my  opponent.  In  the  scene  where  Warwick  renders  his  sword  to  the 
king,  he  displayed  an  energy  and  dignity  that  well  entitled  him  to  the 
fervent  applause  lavished  on  him.  I  did  my  best  with  the  two  subor- 
dinate parts,  and  lost  no  ground  in  public  estimation  by  the  venture. 
Its  success  led  to  an  engagement  for  its  repetition  in  the  ensuing  season 
at  Newcastle,  for  which  town  my  father  was  to  set  off  early  the  next 
morning.  Unhappily,  under  perhaps  the  excitement  of  this  unexpected 
stroke  of  good  fortune,  my  father's  temper  this  evening  was  less  within 
control  than  usual,  and  very  angry  and  bitter  words  after  we  had  re- 
turned to  our  lodgings  made  a  severance  between  us,  and  we  parted  for 
the  night  with  the  understanding  that  in  future  we  were  not  to  occupy 
the  same  house.  I  was  left  with  a  portion  of  the  company  to  act  an- 
other week  in  Glasgow,  whilst  he  went  to  open  the  Newcastle  theater. 
The  receipts,  including  my  benefit,  were  very  large,  and  were  paid  at 
once  into  my  father's  account. 


54  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  IV 

My  brother  and  I  set  out  in  the  second  week  of  January  with  no 
very  happy  feelings.  I  had  no  longer  a  home  ;  and  my  companion, 
my  early  play-fellow  and  friend,  could  not  be  indifferent  to  the  heavi- 
ness of  heart  under  which  I  labored.  Our  journey  was  long  and  tedious  ; 
the  coaches  then,  except  the  mails,  generally  carried  six  inside,  and 
we  had  from  Edinburgh  our  full  complement.  The  snow  was  falling 
fast,  and  had  already  drifted  so  high  between  the  Ross  Inn  and  Ber- 
wick-on-Tweed,  that  it  had  been  necessary  to  cut  a  passage  for  car- 
riages for  some  miles.  We  did  not  reach  Newcastle  until  nearly  two 
hours  after  midnight ;  and  fortunate  was  it  for  the  theater  and  our- 
selves that  we  had  not  delayed  our  journey,  for  the  next  day  the  mails 
were  stopped ;  nor  for  more  than  six  weeks  was  there  any  conveyance 
by  carriage  between  Edinburgh  and  Newcastle.  After  some  weeks  a 
passage  was  cut  through  the  snow  for  the  guards  to  carry  the  mails 
on  horseback,  but  for  a  length  of  time  the  communications  every  way 
were  very  irregular. 

I  took  up  my  abode  in  a  small  respectable  comfortable  lodging,  and 
was  put  upon  a  salary  of  three  pounds  per  week.  By  the  intermedia- 
tion of  friends  a  reconciliation  took  place  with  ray  father,  but  I  con- 
tinued my  separate  residence.  The  theater  had  been  weU  attended 
during  Betty's  performances,  and  I  have  pleasure  in  recalling  the 
talent  he  displayed.  In  Aaron  Hill's  translation  of  Voltaire's  "  Zaire," 
there  was  a  depth  of  feeling  in  his  latter  scenes  of  Osmyn  that  held 
the  audience  wrapt  in  breathless  attention  ;  and  of  all  the  representa- 
tions I  have  seen  of  Sir  Edward  Mortimer,  he  came  next  to  Kean 
(though  longo  intervallo,  for  Kean  was  unapproachable  in  that  charac- 
ter). We  met  again  in  the  same  plays  at  Glasgow,  and  he  had  his 
full  share  of  popular  favor,  though  not  quite  satisfied  with  the  measure 
dealt  out  to  him.  The  houses  were  overflowing,  and  rendered  a  good 
harvest  to  him  and  the  treasury  of  the  theater.  I  do  not  think  he 
studied  improvement  in  his  art,  and  in  consequence  deteriorated  by 
becoming  used-up  in  the  frequent  repetition  of  the  same  parts. 

"  King  John  "  was  produced  by  me  with  much  care ;  the  company 
being  very  good  for  a  provincial  set,  it  was  well  acted.  Huntley 
made  a  very  fair  country  John,  whilst  Hubert,  Salisbury,  Pandulf,  and 
Constance  were  most  respectably  filled.  Falconbridge  was  a  great 
favorite  of  mine,  and  I  had  drilled  the  Prince  Arthur  by  frequent 
rehearsals  to  cause  abundant  tears  and  hysterics  in  the  boxes.  The 
play  was  repeated  several  nights,  maintaining  the  course  of  a  very 
productive  season. 

My  brother  1  had  expressed  his  earnest  wish  to  enter  the  army,  but 
the  cost  of  a  commission,  with  the  expense  of  his  outfit,  was  beyond 
my  father's  means,  although  the  recent  tide  of  good-fortune  had  put 
him  in  funds  beyond  his  usual  average.  Whatever  interest  we  could 
make  was  unavailably  tried  to  procure  an  ensigncy  in  a  militia  regi- 
ment, from  which  my  brother  might  afterwards  volunteer  into  the  line. 
The  only  resource  left  to  him  was  to  accept  a  letter  of  recommenda- 

1  See  note  on  Major  Macready  at  end  of  this  chapter. 


1813-14.  RECONCILIATION    WITH  FATHER.  55 

tion  from  Colonel  Birch,  II.  E.,  to  Sir  Thomas  Graham  (afterwards 
Lord  Lynedoch),  commanding  the  British  force  in  the  Nethei'lands, 
and  take  his  chance  as  a  volunteer.  He  was  accordingly  provided 
witlrmaterials  for  uniform  and  all  necessaries  for  campaigning,  and  in 
his  sixteenth  year  took  leave  of  us  to  embark  at  Harwich.  It  was 
with  a  heavy  heart  I  parted  from  him,  a  boy  in  years,  though  with 
a  strength  of  mind  and  purpose  that  justified  my  confidence  in  his  bear- 
ing himself  gallantly  through  the  dangerous  and  doubtful  path  before 
him.  He  met  on  board  with  an  officer,  Captain  Herbert,  who  showed 
him  great  kindness,  and,  being  also  on  his  way  to  join  the  army, 
traveled  in  company  with  him.  Sir  Thomas  Graham  gave  him  a  very 
kind  reception  and  appointed  him  to  serve  with  the  30th  Regiment, 
besides  which,  though  messing  with  the  officers,  he  carried  his  musket 
for  three  months,  when  he  was  gazetted  ensign  in  the  same  regiment. 
For  many  weeks  we  heard  nothing  of  him,  and  I  remember  well  the 
agony  of  heart  with  which  I  read  the  particulars  of  the  disastrous 
repulse  from  Bergen-op-zoom,  picturing  his  lifeless  form  among  the 
youthful  victims  of  that  unfortunate  attempt.  We  heard  in  the  course 
of  some  weeks  that  his  regiment  was  not  in  the  action,  and  after  some 
trifling  affair  before  a  small  fort  on  the  Scheldt,  the  abdication  of 
Napoleon  and  his  retirement  to  Elba  left  our  troops  to  enjoy  them- 
selves at  peace  in  their  quiet  quarters. 

My  brother  had  been  living  with  my  father,  and  on  his  departure  I 
could  not  be  blind  to  the  state  of  loneliness  in  which  he  would  feel 
himself.  After  revolving  the  matter  for  some  time  in  my  mind,  I  im- 
parted to  our  friends,  the  Misses  Hedley,  my  intention  of  returning  to 
his  house,  although  I  felt  obliged  to  predict  that  I  should  one  day  be 
upbraided  by  him  with  seeking  my  own  convenience  in  the  act.  These 
kind  friends  endeavored  to  persuade  me  that  it  would  not  be  so  ;  but 
even  if  it  should  be,  they  were  convinced  I  should  derive  satisfaction 
from  the  intention  with  which  it  was  done.  It  may  seem,  that  I  judged 
hardly  of  my  father  in  this  anticipation  ;  I  hope  not.  Of  the  infirmity 
of  my  own  temper  I  have  been  unhappily  but  too  conscious ;  it  has 
been  the  source  of  most  of  the  misery  I  have  known  in  life  ;  but  when, 
under  strong  excitement,  his  passion  took- the  reins,  there  was  no  curb 
to  the  violence  of  his  language.  "Words  uttered  in  an  infuriated  mood 
are  too  often  barbed  with  insult,  and,  rankling  long,  can  never  be  en- 
tirely forgotten.  He  had  many  good  qualities,  but  like  other  men  he 
had  his  faults,  and  was  occasionally  unscrupulous  jn  the  pain  he  in- 
flicted. To  others  I  believe  he  would  acknowledge  my  value  and  join 
in  commendation  of  me,  but  to  myself  he  so  depreciated  my  worth,  that 
I  did  not  feel  sure  of  my  ability  to  obtain  a  common  livelihood.  He 
was  sensible,  I  had  reason  to  think,  of  my  motives  in  rejoining  him, 
and  for  some  time  we  lived  together  on  the  best  terms,  but  my  "  pro- 
phetic soul "  was  eventually  justified  in  an  outburst  of  his  impatience. 
Like  many  parents,  he  would  expect  me  to  be  better  informed  on 
particular  subjects  than  sundry  of  our  acquaintance  or  friends,  but  to 
"  know  better  than  your  father  "  was  a  crime,  like  parricide  to  Solon, 


56  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  IV, 

impossible  to  be  conceived.  In  the  endeavor  to  state  the  whole  truth 
and  nothing  but  the  truth,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  find  characters  of 
unmixed  good,  or  to  expect  that  that  portion  of  humanity  with  which 
we  may  be  bound  in  relationship  should  form  an  exception  in  its  infal- 
libility to  mankind  in  general.  My  dear  father  had  his  failings  inter- 
mingled with  many  amiable  impulses,  and  probably  his  position  as 
manager  of  a  theater  may  have  tended  to  dilate  in  him  that  undue 
appreciation  of  his  talents  which  I  have  noticed  conspicuous  in  many 
Irishmen.  A  theater  is  like  a  little  kingdom,  shut  out  from  intimacy 
and  sympathy  with  the  little  world  around  it,  in  which  the  little  mon- 
arch has  his  flatterers  and  courtiers,  as  sycophantic  and  subservient  as 
in  real  courts.  Upon  his  talents,  his  virtues,  and  even  on  his  person, 
he  receives  the  adulatory  homage  of  those  he  employs  ;  and  witli  such 
an  exalted  opinion  of  himself,  as  this  incense  must  excite,  it  cannot  be 
a  matter  of  surprise  if  he  should  not  always  hold  the  scale  of  justice 
with  a  steady  and  impartial  hand.  My  father  was  impatient  of  opin- 
ions in  opposition  to  his  own,  and  as  on  many  subjects  I  thought  dif- 
ferently from  him,  his  displeasure  was  at  times  very  painfully  felt  by 
me.  In  fact,  I  was  kept  too  much  in  a  dependent  state,  when  I  ought 
to  have  been  extending  my  experience  by  more  direct  and  unrestrained 
commerce  with  the  youth  of  my  age  and  the  world  about  me. 

A  few  weeks  had  elapsed  after  my  brother's  departure,  when  an 
unsettled  account  with  the  Birmingham  proprietors,  which  threatened 
embarrassment,  induced  my  father  to  withdraw  from  the  theater  and 
take  up  his  abode  at  Carlisle,  where  he  was  quite  unknown.  In  the 
mean  time  our  prosperous  career  was  uninterrupted  at  Newcastle.  A 
drama  had  been  successfully  introduced  at  Drury  Lane,  taken  from 
Mrs.  Sheridan's  pleasing  and  instructive  Eastern  story  of  "  Nourjahad," 
entitled  "  Illusion,  or  the  Fortunes  of  Nourjahad."  From  the  original 
story  I  added  some  passages  and  bestowed  all  possible  pains  on  its 
production :  Huntley  acted  the  Sultan,  and  Nourjahad  was  my  charac- 
ter. It  was  very  attractive,  followed  by  the  romance  of "( Aladdin  or 
the  Wonderful  Lamp,"  in  which  for  several  nights  I  acted  Aladdin  ; 
and  the  daily  accounts  of  our  receipts  sent  to  my  father  at  Carlisle  in 
his  own  words  "  astonished  him."  It  was  during  the  successful  run  of 
these  pieces,  that  I  had  just  cause  to  condemn  myself  for  violent  and 
intemperate  resentment  of  some  omission  or  mistake  committed  by  the 
prompter,  whose  name  was  Skinner.  How  bitterly  have  I  reproached 
myself  for  those  escapes  of  passion  ! 

In  the  course  of  this  winter  we  read  of  the  appearance  and  disap- 
pearance of  Mr.  Huddart  in  the  character  of  Shylock  at  Drury  Lane, 
and  of  some  other  debutants.  Soon  after  another  announcement  was 
made  of  "  a  Mr.  Kean  "  in  the  same  character.  When  I  heard  it,  I 
remembered  that  it  must  be  the  performer  I  had  seen  in  the  ballet  of 
"  Alonzo  and  Imogene  "  in  the  Birmingham  theater.  I  thought  the 
committee  must  be  at  their  wits'  end,  and  indeed  there  had  been  so 
many  failures,  the  theater  was  almost  in  a  bankrupt  state ;  but  how 
was  I  surprised  to  hear  and  read  of  the  intelligent  and  energetic  per- 


1813-14.  BECOMES  OF  AGE.  57 

formance  of  tHe  new  actor  in  Shylock,  and  further  astonished  to  re- 
ceive the  accounts  of  his  triumphant  success  in  Richard  III.,  which 
had  placed  him,  as  an  artist  of  extraordinary  and  surprising  genius, 
at  the  head  of  his  profession,  exciting  the  admiration  of  the  play- 
going  world.  In  Othello  he  confirmed  public  opinion,  which  justly 
recognized  in  it  a  masterpiece  of  tragic  power  and  skill. 

It  was  in  this  year  (1814)  I  attained  the  age  of  twenty -one,  and 
my  birthday  was  kept  by  an  entertainment  I  gave  the  company  in 
the  greenroom,  followed  by  a  dance  on  the  stage  after  the  audience 
had  left  the  theater.  In  strict  candor  I  ought  not  to  omit  the  men- 
tion of  those  errors  of  my  youth  that  might  have  entailed  more  seri- 
ous consequences.  At  this  time  I  had  become  entangled  in  an  at- 
tachment to  a  lady  some  nine  years  older  than  myself,  by  which  I 
might  have  been  led  into  greater  indiscretions  than  any  I  may  have 
been  guilty  of.  In  liabilities  such  as  these,  to  which  unreasoning 
youth  is  exposed,  lies  one  danger  of  a  theatrical  life.  Many  of  both 
sexes,  to  their  honor,  have  passed  untempted  and  unscathed  through 
this  ordeal ;  but  where  so  much  familiarity  exists,  where  intimacy 
becomes  almost  unavoidable  in  the  frequent  intercourse  of  the  green- 
room and  the  stage,  the  wonder  is  rather  that  so  many  should  pre- 
serve their  respectability,  than  that  resistance  to  allurements  so  con- 
stantly present  should  so  often  be"  overthrown. 

Charles  Kemble  and  his  wife  performed  in  engagements  not  very 
lucrative,  though  Kemble's  young  Mirabel  in  Farquhar's  "  Incon- 
stant," was  a  most  finished  piece  of  acting.  His  tragic  efforts  were 
on  the  contrary  laborious  failures.  In  Macbeth,  Hamlet,  and  Richard 
III.,  he  was  Charles  Kemble  at  his  heaviest.  On  the  other  hand,  his 
Richmond  was  chivalrous  and  spirited,  and  his  Cassio  incomparable. 
He  was  a  first-rate  actor  in  second-rate  parts.  My  own  essays  during 
the  remainder  of  the  season  were  in  Benedict,  and  one  of  Reynolds's 
farcical  heroes,  Gingham  in  the  "  Rage."  For  my  benefit  I  ventured 
on  Shakespeare's  Benedict,  followed  by  an  adaptation  by  myself  of 
Walter  Scott's  "Marmion,"  retaining  the  language  of  the  poem,  in 
which  I  acted  Marmion,  and  found  its  scenes  productive  of  very  con- 
siderable dramatic  effect.  Passion  Week  gave  me  a  respite,  which  I 
really  required,  and  thinking  myself  entitled  to  the  enjoyment  of  a 
holiday  I  proposed  to  my  father  a  little  tour  as  a  relaxation  earned 
by  hard  work. 

Accordingly,  in  a  post-chaise,  a  vehicle  now  known  but  by  name, 
we  directed  our  course  to  Barnard  Castle,  visiting  on  our  way  the 
baronial  edifice  of  Raby  Castle.  The  grandest  feature  is  its  entrance- 
hall,  through  which  the  carriages  of  its  guests  are  driven  to  set  down 
their  company.  To  one  to  whom  the  dim  recollection  of  Warwick 
was  the  only  interesting  vestige  of  the  romantic  times  living  in  his 
memory,  the  sight  of  so  noble  a  fabric,  with  all  the  heroic  deeds  an 
ardent  imagination  would  cluster  round  it,  was  a  sort  of  intoxication. 
The  association  of  Richard  III.  gave  the  picturesque  ruins  of  Barnard 
Castle  a  peculiar  interest  to  me,  and  I  would  have  lingered  about  the-1! 


58  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  IV. 

much  longer  than  suited  the  appetite  of  my  kind  companion.  We 
reached  Greta  Bridge  after  dark,  but  I  was  up  early  the  next  morning 
to  visit  the  Roman  camp  behind  our  inn.  This  little  tour,  in  which  I 
wandered  through  landscapes  of  romantic  beauty,  and  seemed  to  track 
the  steps  of  the  characters  in  "  Rokeby,"  the  poem  I  had  only  lately 
read,  was  to  my  inexperienced  and  enthusiastic  mind  a  supreme  de- 
light, and  one  to  the  remembrance  of  which  I  can  even  now  recur 
with  pleasure.  We  followed  the  Greta's  course,  inspecting  the  tower 
and  tomb  of  Mortham,  the  antiquities  and  pictures  in  Rokeby  Hall, 
and  as  we  wandered  by  the  side  of  "  the  tumbling  flood,"  to  its  conflu- 
ence with  the  Tees,  Risingham,  Wilfred,  Redmond,  Matilda,  and  the 
rest  were  present  to  my  active  fancy.  I  had  never  known  a  higher  or 
purer  enjoyment.  Through  Bishop  Auckland  and  its  rich  park,  we 
reached  Durham  in  time  to  visit  the  magnificent  Cathedral  and  the 
Castle ;  and,  sleeping  there  that  night  at  the  delightful  inn  called 
the  Wheatsheaf,  we  returned  to  Newcastle  and  to  work  the  next 
morning. 

The  remainder  of  the  season  was  of  short  duration,  but  my  time 
was  wholly  occupied.     Lackland  in  O'Keefe's  opera  of  "  Fontaine- 
bleau,"  Beverley  in  Murphy's  comedy,  "  All  in  the  Wrong,"  and  Bel- 
cour  in  Cumberland's  "  West  Indian,"  were  studied  and  acted  by  me, 
—  Beverley  but  imperfectly  studied,  and  very  inefficiently  acted ;  Bel- 
cour  with  so  much  care,  that  I  was  accustomed  to  consider  it  as  one 
of  my  ablest  personations.     The  time  not  engrossed  by  the  calls  of 
the  theater  was  diligently  employed,  though  scarcely  sufficient  for  the 
completion  of  the  work  I  had  in  hand  for  my  father's  benefit  night, 
which  was  to  adapt  Scott's  poem  of  "  Rokeby''  for  representation, 
prepare  it  for  acting,  and  study  myself  the  part  of  Bertram  of  Rising- 
ham.     I   remember  well  one  night  writing  away  hour  after  hour: 
hearing  no  clock,  and  having  no  watch  near  me,  I  thought  I  would  look 
out  and  see  what  sort  of  .a  night  it  was.     My  surprise  was  great  on 
opening  the  shutters  to  see  the  flood  of  daylight  burst  into  the  room. 
It  was  not  quite  five  o'clock,  when  the  freshness  of  the  air  and  the 
bright  beauty  of  the  morning  enticed  me  from  my  work,  and  lured  me 
to  a  long  walk  through  some  of  the  most  picturesque  scenery  of  the 
neighborhood.     I  came  home  to  breakfast,  as  I  thought  refreshed  and 
ready  to  renew  my  labors,  but  before  ten  o'clock  I  was  stretched  on 
the  sofa  in  a  profound  sleep  which  lasted  till  noon.     The  sea'son  closed 
very  successfully  with   my  father's  benefit ;  and  "  Rokeby,"  acted  on 
the  occasion,  took  a  more  compact  and  dramatic  shape  than  '-Mar- 
mion,"  and  laid  strong  hold  on  the  attentions  and  feelings  of  the 
audience  ;  there  are  indeed  many  scenes  in  it  eminently  calculated  for 
effect  in  acting  :  if  it  had  been  more  popular,  no  doubt  it  would  have 
undergone  conversion  to  a  dramatic  arrangement. 

During  my  father's  absence  at  Carlisle  he  had  not  been  idle  or 
inactive.  There  was  no  theater  in  the  city;  and  this  to  him  appeared 
so  indispensable  to  the  population,  and  likely  to  be  so  profitable  to 
himself,  that  he  negotiated  for  a  piece  of  ground  at  the  back  of  the 


1813-14.  HOLIDAY  AT  HOLY  ISLAND.  59 

High  Street,  and  made  terms  with  a  builder  for  the  erection  of  one. 
My  poor  dear  father  was  the  architect.  There  was  little  pretension 
to  design  in  the  construction  —  the  main  object  being  the  greatest 
possible  number  within  the  smallest  possible  space  —  and  this  was 
accomplished  in  a  brick  building,  the  four  rectilinear  walls  of  which 
allowed  no  lobby  for  the  audience,  and  scarcely  room  behind  the 
scenes  for  the  actors  and  servants  to  pass  along.  The  boxes  were 
divided  from  the  pit  in  front  of  them  by  a  covered  railing,  both  rising 
on  a  gently-inclined  plane  from  the  orchestra.  The  gallery  occupied 
the  space  directly  above  the  boxes.  The  lane  which  ran  along  the 
side  of  the  building  was  the  greenroom,  from  which  the  performers 
were  summoned  at  rehearsal.  The  dressing-room  for  the  "  star,"  as 
any  visitor  was  called,  measured  about  five  feet  by  six,  and  how  the 
performer  managed  was  a  mystery.  But  intrusted  to  unskillful  hands 
it  cost,  according  to  my  father's  account,  above  £600,  which  the  pro- 
ductive season  at  Newcastle  enabled  him  to  disburse.  To  employ  the 
time,  until  it  was  ready  for  his  reception,  he  rented  the  theater  at 
Berwick-on-T  weed . 

During  the  first  three  weeks  of  the  season  there  I  went  for  relaxa- 
tion and  bathing  to  Holy  Island.  St.  Cuthbert,  to  whose  residence 
its  holiness  is  to  be  ascribed,  its  ancient  name  being  Lindisfarn,  is 
recorded  to  have  quitted  it  for  the  greater  solitude  and  tranquillity  of 
the  Faroe  Islands,  which  stand  out  in  the  distance  of  the  German 
Ocean,  finding  his  devotions  and  meditations  disturbed  by  the  racket 
and  active  pursuits  of  the  inhabitants.  But  to  follow  out  the  tradition, 
the  gulls  and  sea-birds  in  the  lonely  isles  made  more  clamor  than  the 
fishermen  and  their  wives,  with  the  monks  and  nuns  to  boot,  and  he 
was  therefore  driven  back  again  to  hallow  Lindisfarn  with  the  odor 
of  his  sanctity.  I  do  not  think  the  population  of  the  island  —  men, 
women,  and  children  —  could  have  exceeded  a  hundred,  if  they 
amounted  to  that  number,  and  these,  with  the  exception  of  the  clergy- 
man, were  an  amphibious  race,  either  pilots  or  engaged  in  the  fisheries 
of  the  coast.  It  seemed  as  if  a  long  sojourn  there  would  induce  the 
forgetfulness  of  one's  own  language,  so  rare  were  the  opportunities  for 
conversation  :  arid  I  was  forced  back  upon  Homer,  Cicero,  and  Virgil 
for  companionship  and  intercourse  with  other  minds,  a  renewal  of 
acquaintance  which  in  the  course  of  my  long  life  I  have  found  very 
serviceable.  I  certainly  at  times  felt  the  weariness  of  solitude,  but  I 
became  attached  to  the  primitive  little  place.  The  approach  to  it  on 
the  south  of  the  island  is  across  the  narrow  strait  which  forms  the  . 
entrance  to  the  harbor,  a  very  commodious  one  in  stormy  weather ; 
but  at  low  water  the  sands  are  sufficiently  dry  on  the  western  side  for 
pedestrians  (who  do  not  object  to  carry  their  shoes  and  stockings)  to 
cross  over,  and  this  was  of  old  considered  a  very  efficacious  pil- 
grimage. 

The  ruins  of  the  abbey  were  very  striking,  one  of  the  lofty  arches 
of  its  roof,  apparently  of  single  blocks,  remaining  in  isolated  grandeur, 
and,  though  not  nodding  to  its  fall,  yet  adding  to  the  effect  of  its 


GO  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  (MAP.  IV 

interest  by  its  apparent  insecurity.  There  is  a  small  church  near  the 
ruins,  in  which  a  country  clergyman,  not  answering  in  his  "  unaffected 
grace  "  to  Goldsmith's  beautiful  portrait,  used  every  Sunday  to  divide 
his  discourse  into  several  parts,  which  were  respectively  introduced  by 
the  same  discriminating  announcement,  "  furder  and  agen."  I  have 
no  doubt  the  spirit  of  reform,  so  active  elsewhere,  has  not  been  want- 
ing to  improve  the  pulpit  here.  On  a  little  conical  rock  jutting  into 
the  sea  and  commanding  the  entrance  to  the  harbor,  is  perched  a  small 
castle  that  looks  across  the  bay  upon  the  towers  of  Bamboroogh, 
which  form  a  noble  termination  to  the  view.  The  only  history  I  ever 
heard  of  this  small  fortress  was,  that  the  flag  of  the  Pretender  was 
hoisted  upon  it,  when  he  was  on  his  march  to  Derby.  My  amuse- 
ments here  were  boating  and  riding.  I  pulled  a  very  good  oar.  and 
took  pleasure  in  rougher  water  than  my  boat's  crew  sometimes  con- 
sidered altogether  safe. 

In  riding,  I  one  day  escaped  very  narrowly  a  frightful  danger.  At 
low  water  a  very  extensive  bank  of  sand  is  left  dry  to  the  north,  in 
view  of  Berwick.  With  the  intention  of  taking  a  gallop  along  this 
tempting  course,  I  was  making  my  way  to  it,  not  noticing  the  mottled 
appearance  of  the  sand,  puckering  into  black  veins  and  holes,  as  it 
declined  from  the  shore  to  rise  again  to  the  long  high  bank  before  me. 
Suddenly  my  horse  plunged  up  to  the  saddle  in  a  black,  soft  mud,  and 
instantly  with  an  instinct  of  danger  made  the  most  violent  efforts  to 
disengage  itself,  splashing  up  the  mud  in  a  frantic  manner,  and  at 
length  having  turned  herself  round  (all  power  of  guidance  was  lost  to 
me  with  death  before  my  eyes),  she  galloped  furiously  to  the  beach, 
where  she  stood  panting  as  if  her  sides  would  burst,  whilst  I,  sitting 
droopingly  in  the  saddle  with  the  cold  sweat  beading  on  my  forehead, 
could  only  thank  God  for  the  unexpected  preservation. 

My  lodging,  one  of  the  best  in  the  little  village,  if  the  few  houses 
there  could  be  dignified  by  the  name,  was  very  clean  and  comfortable ; 
my  dinners  of  poultry  or  fish,  and  sometimes  meat,  unexceptionable 
to  a  good  appetite.  My  water  excursions,  very  exciting  ;  my  saunter- 
ings  about  the  abbey,  recalling  the  trial  of  poor  Constance,  and  won- 
dering where  her  "  Vade  in  pace  "  might  be  situated  ;  my  wandering 
over  the  sand-hills  or  along  the  wind-beaten  shore  declaiming  Shake- 
speare and  Milton  to  the  incoming  tide,  with  occasional  nocturnal  ex- 
peditions to  get  a  shot  at  the  wild  ducks  that  lay  in  immense  clusters 
on  a  kind  of  lagoon  at  a  little  distance :  these,  with  periodical  confer- 
ences with  my  landlady  and  musings  over  my  classics,  were  the  exer- 
cises with  which  I  made  the  days  of  my  vacation  pass  quickly  and 
pleasantly  by. 

Recalled  to  business,  I  went  to  Berwick,  where  to  my  dismay  I 
found  the  theater  in  the  inn-yard  and  up  a  very  long  flight  of  steps. 
The  upper  part  of  an  old  malt-house  had  been  converted  into  the 
temple  of  the  drama,  and,  saving  the  awkwardness  of  the  approach, 
had  been  fashioned  into  a  very  respectable  one.  Here  I  acted  some 
of  my  principal  characters  to  very  good  audiences,  and  ended  the 


1813-14.    A  PERFORMANCE  TO  THREE  PERSONS.       Gl 

season  with  very  satisfactory  results.  It  was  in  this  season  that  a 
general  illumination  had  been  ordered  for  the  triumph  of  the  Allies 
over  Napoleon.  To  my  surprise  my  father  gave  directions  for  a  per- 
formance on  that  evening.  It  was  in  vain  that  I  reasoned  with  him, 
stating  my  conviction  that  there  would  not  be  one  person  present. 
He  was  pertinacious  in  his  resolution ;  but  I  could  not  believe  he 
would  persist,  until  I  saw  the  play-bills  advertising  "  Laugh  when  you 
can  "  (the  title  a  satire  on  the  proceeding)  and  the  "  Poor  Soldier." 
My  father  took  the  part  of  Gossamer ;  the  players  could  hardly  be 
persuaded  that  he  was  in  earnest,  but  the  night  arrived  and  they  were 
obliged  to  dress  for  their  parts.  At  seven  o'clock  the  prompter  went 
to  my  father's  dressing-room,  knocked,  and  inquired,  "  Sir,  shall  I  ring 
in  the  music  ?  there  is  no  one  in  the  house  !  "  "  Certainly,  sir  ;  ring 
in  the  music,"  was  his  answer.  The  music  was  rung  —  the  musicians 
went  into  the  orchestra  and  began  to  play.  I  went  into  my  father's 
room,  and  informed  him  that  "  there  were  two  boys  in  the  gallery  and 
one  man  in  the  pit,  and  I  would  go  into  the  boxes,  that  there  might 
be  an  appearance  in  all."  Accordingly  I  took  my  place  in  the  centre 
box,  and,  with  difficulty  preserving  a  demure  countenance,  saw  my 
father  very  gravely  and  indeed  sternly  begin  the  part  of  the  laughter- 
loving  Gossamer,  indignant  with  the  performers,  who  had  difficulty  in 
restraining  their  disposition  to  make  a  joke  of  the  whole  affair.  A 
scene  or  two  was  quite  sufficient,  and  I  left  the  remaining  three-quar- 
ters of  the  audience  to  their  amusement,  preferring  a  walk  round  the 
walls  of  "  our  good  town  "  on  a  lovely  summer  evening,  until  the  in- 
habitants should  begin  to  light  up.  About  nine  o'clock  I  thought  I 
would  look  in  again,  to  see  whether  the  farce  was  really  going  on. 
The  play  had  just  concluded,  and  the  pit  audience  went  out.  The 
two  boys  remained  in  the  gallery,  evidently  tired  out  with  the  dullness 
of  their  evening  ;  but  when  the  musicians  reappeared  in  the  orchestra, 
and  began  the  overture  of  the  afterpiece,  it  seemed  as  if  their  power 
of  endurance  were  exhausted,  and  leaning  over  the  gallery  balustrade 
one  of  them,  with  a  violent  gesture  of  his  arm,  called  out,  "  Oh,  dang 
it,  give  over  ! "  and  both  walked  out,  leaving  the  players  to  undress 
themselves  and  go  out  in  their  own  clothes  to  see  the  illuminations. 

For  the  Newcastle  race  week  Charles  Kemble  and  his  wife  were 
re-engaged,  and  the  performances  strengthened  by  my  co-operation. 
In  "  Venice  Preserved "  we  were  the  Jaffier  and  Pierre ;  in  '"  The 
Wonder,"  with  Charles  Kemble  as  Don  Felix,  Mrs.  C.  Kemble  as 
Violante,  the  part  of  Colonel  Briton  was  studied  for  the  occasion  by 
me ;  and  in  "  The  Rivals,"  Charles  Kemble  taking  Falkland,  and  his 
wife  Julia,  I  was  the  Captain  Absolute.  They  were  paid  £100  for 
their  services,  and  my  father's  profit  on  the  week  was  very  remunera- 
tive. From  hence  I  returned  to  Holy  Island  and  my  father  to  Car- 
lisle to  open  his  new  theater,  which  was  almost  nightly  filled  and 
promised  soon  to  reimburse  him  for  his  outlay.  The  time  spent  by 
him  with  advantage  there  brought  us  to  the  Newcastle  Assizes ;  and 
here  again  my  suggestion  was  adopted  of  engaging  Young,  with  whom 


62  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  IV. 

I  promised  to  take  the  second  characters.  Emery,  whose  representa- 
tion of  a  Yorkshireman  was  reality  itself,  was  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  on  very  moderate  terms,  acting  in  the  afterpieces,  made  up  very 
at  tractive  bills  of  fare.  Young  and  Emery  together  in  a  country 
theater  was  a  very  unusual  display  of  histrionic  talent  —  my  local 
reputation  in  addition  still  further  stimulated  public  curiosity.  To 
"  Hamlet "  and  "  Richard  III."  (which  Young  had  tried,  not  very  suc- 
cessfully, against  Kean's  popularity  in  London)  the  houses  were  well 
filled,  but  were  greatly  exceeded  by  the  receipts  to  the  plays  of  "  The 
Iron  Chest,"  in  which  Young  acted  Sir  Edward  Mortimer,  Emery 
Orson,  and  myself  Wilford ;  "  The  Revenge,"  with  Young  in  Zanga, 
and  myself  Don  Alonzo ;  "  Education,"  with  Young  and  Emery  in 
their  original  parts  of  Count  Villars  and  the  Yorkshire  Farmer,  my- 
self taking  the  young  man,  whose  name  I  forget ;  but  I  do  not  forget 
the  life-like  acting  of  Emery,  whose  perfectly  natural  manner  in  his 
dialogue  with  me  was  so  irresistible,  that  I  could  not  suppress  upon 
the  stage  the  laughter  he  provoked.  In  the  representation  of  country- 
men, such  as  Farmer  Ashfield,  Zekiel  Homespun,  etc.,  he  was  unap- 
proachable ;  in  the  part  of  Robert  Tyke,  in  "  The  School  of  Reform," 
he  rose  to  the  display  of  terrific  power.  He  has  been  followed  by  no 
one  that  could  compare  with  him.  Young  was  of  course  greatly  and 
deservedly  applauded :  his  grand  declamatory  style  wound  up  the 
speeches  of  Zanga  and  Mortimer  with  telling  effect.  His  Richard 
was  not  good,  but  his  performance  of  Hamlet  (a  character  that  so  few 
are  found  to  agree  upon)  had  as  usual  its  very  numerous  admirers. 

He  gave  me  a  little  advice  or  caution,  which  was  kindly  meant, 
although  it  did  not  then  carry  conviction  with  it.  "  Young  gentleman, 
you  expend  a  degree  of  power  unnecessarily;  half  the  energy  ami 
fire  that  you  employ  would  be  more  than  sufficient.  You  will  only 
waste  your  strength,  if  you  do  not  bear  this  in  mind."  Experience 
justified  his  remark,  and  taught  me  the  lesson  of  increasing  the  effect 
of  force  in  acting  by  economizing  its  use. 

At  Carlisle,  where  I  had  been  inquired  for,xl  repeated  my  favorite 
characters  to  audiences  that  tested  the  continent  powers  of  the  little 
building ;  but  my  father's  outgoings  having  absorbed  his  receipts,  he 
was  in  perplexity  and  embarrassment  how  to  reach  Leicester,  and  how 
to  find  a  company  to  act  there  with  him.  In  the  very  nick  of  time  the 
Haymarket  Theater  suddenly  closed,  and  left  open  to  his  choice  several 
very  valuable  performers,  poor  Tokely  among  them,  a  stroke  of  chance 
that  confirmed  him  in  his  Micawber  confidence  that  "  something  must 
turn  up."  Still  the  ready  funds  were  wanting  —  and  when,  to  my  in- 
quiry what  was  his  immediate  need,  he  told  me  that  £10  would  be 
everything  to  him  at  that  moment,  I  astonished  and  delighted  him  by 
producing  £20,  out  of  £30  which  I  had  saved  from  my  weekly  allow- 
ance. He  set  out  in  joyful  expectation  of  good  receipts  in  the  public 
weeks  (as  races,  fairs,  etc.,  were  termed)  at  Leicester,  and  left  me  to 
conclude  a  most  successful  campaign  at  Carlisle  and  carry  on  the  com- 
pany to  Dumfries,  where  I  acted  a  fortnight  to  full  houses.  Our  corps 


1813-14.  MISS  O'NEILL  AT  COVENT  GARDEN.  63 

were  few  in  number,  several  having  been  drafted  off  to  Leicester, 
and  our  stock  of  plays  was  therefore  limited,  but  the  attraction  was  so 
uniformly  good,  that  a  night  closed  would  have  been  so  much  money 
refused.  All  our  available  plays  were  arranged ;  but  for  one  night 
there  was  none  within  our  scanty  company's  means.  It  occurred  to 
me  that  all  the  players  had  acted  in  "  The  Foundling  of  the  Forest," 
and  sending  for  the  prompter  to  ascertain  it,  I  desired  him  to  bring  me 
the  book  that  I  might  study  Florian  for  the  occasion.  "  Sir,  there  is 
no  book,"  was  his  answer.  This  seemed  checkmate,  but  from  having 
got  up  the  play  at  Newcastle,  and  having  been  present  several  times  at 
its  performance  three  years  before,  I  recollected  much  of  the  part ; 
and  observing  to  him  that  as  the  players  would  be  able  to  repeat  to 
me  their  cues  (i.  e.,  the  ends  of  my  speeches  to  them),  I  would  answer 
for  managing  it,  and  ordered  the  play  to  be  announced.  At  rehearsal 
I  found  there  was  no  hitch  ;  numerous  places  were  taken  in  the  boxes, 
and  all  went  off  with  great  applause  from  a  very  full  attendance. 

My  father  now  changed  places  with  me,  he  coming  to  the  public 
weeks  at  Dumfries  and  I  proceeding  to  Leicester,  where  I  was  to  act 
a  month  and  close  the  season.  Fortune  seemed  still  to  be  on  my  side, 
and  the  whole  period  of  my  stay  there  was  one  unbroken  course  of 
prosperous  work.  It  was  during  my  sojourn  here  that  a  young  act- 
ress, who  had  been  a  great  favorite  in  Dublin,  made  her  appearance  in 
London  at  Covent  Garden,  and  at  once  united  all  voices  in  her  praise. 
Her  beauty,  grace,  simplicity,  and  tenderness  were  the  theme  of  every 
tongue.  Crowds  were  nightly  disappointed  in  finding  room  in  the 
theater  to  witness  her  enchanting  personations.  Juliet,  Belvidera,  Mrs. 
Beverley,  Mrs.  Haller,  were  again  realities  upon  the  scene,  attested 
with  enthusiasm  by  the  tears  and  applauding  shouts  of  admiring  thou- 
sands. The  noble  pathos  of  Siddons's  transcendent  genius  no  longer 
served  as  the  grand  commentary  and  living  exponent  of  Shakespeare's 
text,  but  in  the  native  elegance,  the  feminine  sweetness,  the  unaffected 
earnestness  and  gushing  passion  of  Miss  O'Neill  the  stage  had  received 
a  worthy  successor  to  her. 

My  directions  were,  in  leaving  Leicester,  to  bring  my  two  sisters, 
who  had  been  several  years  at  Miss  Linwood's  school  there,  home  with 
me.  They  were  accordingly  the  companions  of  my  journey  to  New- 
castle, where  a  suite  of  rooms  on  the  first  floor  of  a  house  in  Pilgrim 
Street,  next  door  to  the  Queen's  Head  Hotel,  had  been  taken  for  us. 
My  father  joi-ned  us  here.  I  should  not  be  so  particular  in  noticing 
the  precise  locality  of  our  new  dwelling,  but  for  an  incident  that  left  its 
impress  vividly  on  my  memory.  One  afternoon  —  it  was  a  Saturday 
—  my  elder  sister  had  retired  to  lie  down  in  her  bedroom  for  relief 
from  a  distracting  headache.  My  father  and  self  were  seated  after 
dinner  at  a  table,  writing  letters.  The  streets  were  empty,  for  a  storm 
such  as  I  have  rarely  seen  was  tearing  through  them  with  hurricane 
violence.  With  a  bright  fire  in  the  grate  and  a  decanter  of  port  wine 
before  us,  we  might  well  have  supposed  ourselves  secure  from  any  in- 
conveniences of  the  tempest,  though  the  pavement  was  actually  flooded 


64  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  IV. 

with  the  torrents  pouring  down,  and  tiles  and  slates  were  hurled 
through  the  air  by  the  fury  of  the  gale.  A  twofold  evidence  \\.t<  this 
day  given  of  our  lives'  uncertainty.  A  tremendous  crash,  that  shook 
the  whole  house  as  if  it  were  tumbling  in  ruin,  startled  us  from  our 
seats ;  the  room  was  instantly  filled  with  thick  dust  and  smoke,  out  of 
which  we  lost  no  time  in  escaping.  I  rushed  into  my  sister's  room, 
and  lifting  her  from  her  bed  hurried  her  down  stairs  into  the  hall  pas- 
sage, where  all  the  inmates  of  the  house,  servants,  etc.,  pale  and  out  of 
breath,  were  assembled  in  fearful  consternation.  Hurried  questions 
were  passed  :  "  What  is  it  ?  "  "  Are  we  safe  ?  "  "  The  roof  has  given 
wav  !  "  "  Are  all  here  ?  "  At  once  the  mistress  of  the  house  shrieked 
out,  "  My  bairns  !  my  bairns ! "  and  darted  with  me  up  the  stairs  to 
the  room  above  that  in  which  my  father  and  I  had  been  sitting.  We 
flung  open  the  door ;  the  chimney  had  fallen  in,  breaking  down  the 
roof,  crushing  into  the  room  below  one  whole  side  of  the  flooring  of 
the  attic,  and  dividing  the  room  into  two  triangular  spaces  ;  in  the  one 
nearest  the  door  was  a  large  old  mahogany  table  with  two  flaps  reach- 
ing nearly  to  the  ground.  Beneath  this  table,  in  the  midst  of  all  the 
wreck  and  rubbish,  were  the  two  children.  The  innocent  little  creat- 
ures, ignorant  of  the  danger  they  had  escaped,  were  playing  together. 
The  mother  seized  one  and  I  the  other,  and  with  full  hearts  we  carried 
them  down  to  the  lower  story.  I  never  can  forget  the  emotion  of  that 
poor  mother.  Some  friendly  neighbors  accommodated  our  unhoused 
hosts  for  the  night,  and  we  took  refuge  in  the  hotel  next  door  until  we 
could  find  a  home  in  more  private  apartments. 

A  domestic  imbroglio  now  arose  that  altered  the  current  in  which 
my  life  had  hitherto  run.  A  collision  of  opinions  between  my  father 
and  myself  on  the  subject  of  some  engagements  in  the  theater,  to 
which  I  took  well-founded  exceptions,  left  me  no  alternative,  as  I 
thought,  but  to  withdraw  from  the  embarrassing  position  in  which 
such  arrangements  would  have  placed  me,  and  "  seek  my  fortunes 
where  they  would  be  kinder."  I  would  have  made,  and  indeed  ten- 
dered, sacrifices  to  avoid  this  separation ;  but  my  father  was  inflexible 
in  adhering  to  measures  which  I  conceived  in  every  way  objectionable. 
On  the  strength  of  the  overtures  previously  made  to  me  by  the  Bath 
manager,  I  wrote  to  him  that  I  was  now  at  liberty  to  engage,  and  after 
a  brief  negotiation  it  was  agreed  that  the  difference  between  us  in  re- 
gard to  the  pecuniary  amount,  for  which  we  severely  contended,  should 
l>e  made  dependent  on  my  success.  As  a  parting  service -to  my  father 
I  ai-t.-d  one  \vt-t-k  at  Newcastle, adding  the  Stranger  and  Othello  to  my 
list  of  characters,  and  with  a  heavy  heart,  under  the  depressing  uncer- 
tainty of  prospect  in  the  venture  I  was  about  to  make,  I  took  leave  of 
my  family  and  friends,  and  bade  adieu  to  the  town  in  which  my  resi- 
dence from  my  first  entrance  was  one  unbroken  record  of  encourage- 
ment and  kindness.  At  the  last  moment,  the  night  before  my  depart- 
ure, my  father  seemed  to  have  regretted  the  course  he  had  adopted, 
and  asked  me  if  it  was  not  possible  to  break  off  with  the  Bath  man- 
agement; but  my  word  was  pledged,  and  could  not  be  retracted.  Jusf 


1814-15.  MAJOR  MACREADY.  05 

before  setting  out  on  my  journey  I  received  the  offer  of  a  very  lucra- 
tive engagement  for  a  fortnight  from  H.  Johnston,  who  had  taken  the 
Glasgow  Theater,  which  I  gladly  accepted.  By  coach  and  mail,  I 
made  the  best  of  my  way  to  Bath,  where,  on  my  arrival,  I  got  a  flut- 
ter at  the  heart  on  seeing  my  name  in  large  letters  in  the  play -bills  to 
appear  as  Romeo  on  the  26th  of  December  (1814).  This  sort  of 
nervous  emotion  at  the  sight  of  my  name  posted  upon  the  walls  never 
left  me  to  the  latest  moment  of  my  professional  career,  and  I  have 
often  crossed  over  to  the  other  side  of  the  street  to  avoid  passing  by  a 
play-bill  in  which  it  might  be  figuring. 

NOTE.  —  Edward  Nevil  Macready,  born  at  Birmingham,  May  29th,  1798,  joined 
as  a  volunteer,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  the  2d  battalion  of  the  30th  Regiment,  then 
serving  in  Holland  under  Lord  Lynedoch,  and  in  the  following  year  fought  at 
Quatre  Bras  and  Waterloo.  All  the  officers  of  his  company  having  been  killed  or 
disabled  early  in  the  day  of  the  great  battle,  he  commanded  it  through  great  part 
of  the  action  and  personally  led  it  on  at  different  periods  of  the  day,  when  only  an 
ensign ;  and  the  gallantry  lie  displayed  on  this  occasion  procured  his  promotion 
without  purchase  to  a  lieutenancy.  His  next  active  service  was  in  the  Mahratta 
Avar,  when  he  took  part  in  the  siege  and  capture  of  the  strong  hill  fort  of  Asseerghur, 
although  at  the  time  laboring  under  so  severe  an  illness  that  it  was  with  the  great- 
est difficulty  he  could  obtain  leave  to  share  in  the  attack.  On  General  Sir  John 
Wilson's  appointment  as  Commander-in-chief  in  Ceylon,  Captain  Macready  accom- 
panied him  as  military  secretary,  which  post  he  filled  for  a  period  of  eight  or  nine 
years.  At  a  farewell  dinner  given  to  the  general,  on  his  leaving  the  island,  the 
governor,  Mr.  Stewart  Mackenzie,  in  his  speech  paid  a  gratifying  tribute  to  the 
services  and  character  of  the  military  secretary,  as  distinguished  by  the  essential 
qualities  of  an  intelligent  officer  and  a  gentleman.  In  addition  to  this  public  testi- 
mony to  his  abilities  and  worth,  he  received  a  private  acknowledgment  of  the 
esteem  in  which  he  was  held,  in  the  form  of  a  valuable  gold  box,  in  the  name  of 
"  his  friends,"  a  title  which  comprehended  every  officer  then  in  Ceylon.  On 
obtaining  an  unattached  majority  he  left  the  30th  Regiment,  in  which  he  had 
endeared  himself  to  all,  and  withdrew  from  active  service.  In  1840  he  married 
Miss  Rolls,  and  accepted  the  appointment  of  A.  D.  C.  offered  him  by  Mr.  Stewart 
Mackenzie,  then  Lord  High  Commissioner  of  the  Ionian  Islands.  On  leaving 
this  post  he  spent  some  years  in  foreign  travel.  He  died  very  suddenly  on  the 
4th  of  November,  1848. 

Major  Macready  was  the  author  of  "A  Sketch  of  Suwarrow  and  his  last 
Campaign."  Mrs.  Edward  Macready  designed  and  published,  in  1839,  a  series 
of  spirited  etchings  of  Macready  in  some  of  his  principal  characters  and 
scenes.  —  ED. 


CHAPTER  V. 

1814-1815.  —  Description  of  Bath  in  1814  —  Appearance  in  Romeo,  etc.  —  Actors 
more  sensitive  to  criticism  than  other  artists  —  Proposed  engagement  with 
Harris  at  Covent  Garden  declined  —  Performances  at  Dublin  —  Visit  to  London 
—  Comparison  of  Kean  and  Cooke  in  Richard  III.  —  Mistake  of  "points"  in 
acting  —  Kean  in  Richard  III.  at  Drury  Lane — Supper  with  Kean  —  His 
powers  of  conversation  and  mimicry  —  Miss  O'Neill  in  Juliet  at  Covent 
Garden. 

AMID  the  revolutions  of  the  times  which  my  life  has  witnessed,  few 
places  can  have  undergone  more  extreme  changes   than  the  city  of 
5 


66  M.iCREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  V- 

Until.  At  this  time  its  winter  season  was  to  the  fashionable;  world  the 
precursor  of  that  of  the  London  spring.  Houses,  lodgings,  boarding- 
houses,  were  filled ;  rooms  in  the  hotel  must  be  engaged  at  an  early 
date.  The  hotels,  of  which  there  were  several,  were  of  the  first  order, 
but  conspicuous  among  them  were  the  York  House  and  the  White 
Hart.  The  tables  d'hote  at  these  houses  were  frequented  by  military 
and  naval  officers,  men  of  fortune  of  the  learned  professions,  and  grad- 
uates of  the  Universities.  The  company  was  in  general  most  agree- 
able, and  the  dinners  excellent,  usually,  with  wine  and  dessert,  stand- 
ing at  half  a  guinea  per  head.  Each  day  a  little  after  noon  the  Pump 
Room,  a  sort  of  exchange  for  news  and  gossip,  was  literally  crammed 
full  with  its  throng  of  idlers.  Monday  and  Thursday  evenings  were 
given  to  balls  (usually  crowded)  at  the  great  rooms  ;  Wednesday  and 
Friday  to  those  (not  so  well  attended)  at  the  lower  rooms;  Tuesday 
to  Ashe's  concert,  at  which  the  leading  vocalists  were  engaged  ;  and 
Saturday  to  the  theater,  where  again  was  a  reunion  of  the  votaries  of 
fa.-hion.  Now  all  has  disappeared.  At  about  three  o'clock  the  pave- 
ment of  Milsom  Street  would  be  so  crowded  with  gayly  dressed  people, 
and  the  drive  so  blocked  with  carriages,  that  it  was  difficult  to  get 
along  except  with  the  stream.  I  have  of  late  years  looked  down  the 
same  street  at  the  same  hour  and  counted  five  persons  !  The  Lower 
Crescent  was  a  Sunday  promenade  between  morning  and  afternoon 
service,  presenting  the  same  conflux  of  visitors.  The  life  of  the  Lon- 
don world  of  fashion  was  here  on  a  reduced  scale,  and  the  judgment 
of  a  Bath  audience  was  regarded  as  a  pretty  sure  presage  of  the  de- 
cision of  the  metropolis.  It  is  not  therefore  to  be  wondered  at,  if, 
distrustful  as  I  seem  constitutionally  to  have  been,  I  should  have 
approached  this  trial  with  something  like  trepidation.  But  "  aici> 
apitTTtveiv  " l  was  my  motto,  and  with  that  resolve  I  went  determinedly 
to  work. 

A  neat  little  drawing-room  opening  into  the  bedroom,  No.  5, 
Chapel  Row,  Queen  Square,  was  my  new  home.  I  felt  its  loneliness, 
nor  did  my  introduction  to  the  performers  at  the  rehearsal  tend  at  all 
to  inspirit  me.  Being  announced  as  "  a  star,"  without  having  the 
London  stamp,  I  was  looked  upon  with  a  supercilious  coldness,  as  if 
challenging  my  right  to  take  such  precedence  before  my  fellow-actors. 
The  stage  manager,  Mr.  Charlton,  WHS  a  very  kind  gentleman,  and, 
enforcing  all  my  directions,  enabled  me  to  get  through  all  my  re- 
hearsals very  smoothly.  The  romance  of  "Aladdin,"  expensively  got 
up,  was  the  afterpiece,  which  on  a  Christmas  night  would  insure  a  full 
audience,  and  every  part  of  the  theater  was  crowded  to  overflowing. 
.My  reception,  if  I  had  wanted  heart,  was  hearty  enough  to  give  it; 
but  though  dejected  and  misgiving  in  the  contemplation  of  my  task,  I 
was  on  my  entry  into  the  lists  always  strung  up  to  the  highest  pitch, 
and,  like  the  gladiators  in  the  arena,  resolute  to  do  or  die.  The 
applau-e  increased  in  each  scene,  until  in  the  encounter  with  Tybalt  it 
lied  into  prolonged  cheering,  and,  to  use  a  homely  phrase,  I  then 

1  "  Ever  to  excel."  —  ED. 


18U-15.  THE  PLAYER'S  TRIUMPH.  G7 

found  myself  firm  in  the  saddle.  The  end  of  the  tragedy  was  a  tri- 
iimph,  and  I  returned  to  my  little  homely  lodging,  to  write  off  to  my 
family  the  news  of  my  success. 

"Romeo  and  Juliet"  was  repeated,  and  followed  by  "Hamlet," 
"  The  Earl  of  Essex,"  "  Orestes,"  etc.  The  newspapers,  with  one 
exception,  were  lavish  in  their  praise.  The  dissenting  critic  based  his 
objections  on  my  disqualifications  for  a  great  actor  in  my  want  of  per- 
sonal attractions,  "  by  which  Nature  had  interposed  an  everlasting  bar 
to  my  success ; "  and  on  my  performance  of  Beverley,  in  "  The  Game- 
ster," with  which  the  audience  were  deeply  affected  —  several  ladies, 
some  in  hysterics,  being  obliged  to  leave  the  boxes  • —  he  observed  that 
it  would  nave  been  altogether  excellent,  if  not  perfect,  "  but  for  the 
unaccommodating  disposition  of  Nature  in  the  formation  of  .my  face." 
I  have  no  doubt  I  winced  under  the  occasional  lash  of  my  Zoilus,  for 
there  is  not  in  all  creation  a  creature  so  sensitive  as  "  the  poor 
player."  Is  there  not  something  to  be  said  in  palliation  of  his  weak- 
ness ?  He  leaves  no  trace  of  his  life's  work.  The  poet,  as  his  imag- 
ination bodies  forth  the  forms  of  things  unknown,  turns  them  to  shape, 
which  remains  a  lasting  monument  of  his  genius ;  the  painter,  upon 
the  wall  or  canvas,  fixes  imperishably  the  dreams  of  his  fancy ;  the 
sculptor,  in  the  various  attitudes  of  his  life-like  image,  conveys  to 
future  times  the  thought  and  feeling  that  had  burned  within  him ;  the 
player,  with  conceptions  as  glowing,  heightening  the  poet's  thought 
and  realizing  his  visions  of  glory,  imprints  his  graceful  and  picturesque 
illustrations,  his  probing  studies  of  the  human  heart,  upon  the  light 
sands  of  time,  impressions  which  the  next  wave  obliterates.  The 
more  enduring  arts  leave  in  their  works  the  champions  of  their  fame 
to  live  and  delight  and  instruct,  when  the  cavils  against  them  are 
heard  no  more.  The  player's  triumph  is  momentary,  passing  as  the 
rapturous  applause  that  attests  its  merit  dies  away.  "  Feeble  tradition 
is  his  memory's  guard,"  and,  with  so  brief  and  uncertain  a  hold  upon 
the  sympathies  of  his  fellow-men,  is  it  to  be  wondered  at  if  he  should 
be  more  keenly  alive  than  others  to  the  censures  that  may  seem  to 
endanger  his  popularity  ?  In  compliments,  however,  far  and  near, 
invitations,  troops  of  friends,  and  all  the  flattering  evidences  of  unan- 
imous success,  there  were  sufficient  assurances  Of  the  position  I  had 
taken  in  public  opinion  to  set  me  above  the  reach  of  harm  from  his 
strictures. 

The  report  of  what  was  passing  at  Bath  was  speedily  carried  to  the 
London  theaters,  and  my  old  and  kind  friend  Mr.  Fawcett,  the  stage 
manager  of  Covent  Garden  Theater,  was  dispatched  by  Mr.  Harris  to 
see  me  act  and  bring  him  the  particular  relation  of  my  abilities,  views, 
and  pretensions.  He  was  present  at  my  second  performance  of 
Orestes  ;  and  on  his  sounding  me  upon  my  expectations  in  regard  to 
London,  I  stated  my  fixed  intention  not  to  make  the  hazard  of  an 
appearance  there  except  upon  a  high  salary  and  for  a  term  of  years, 
as  the  chances  might  be  against  me  in  the  outset  of  my  career,  and  if  I 
could  not  regain  lost  ground  I  ought  at  least  to  indemnify  myself  pecu- 


68  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CIIAP.  V. 

niarily  for  tin 'advantages  I  should  resign  in  the  estimation  I  at  present 
enjoyed.  lie  had  no  objections  to  offer  to  my  reasoning,  and  on  his 
return  to  London  I  received  proposals  from  Mr.  Harris  for  an  engage- 
ment of  three  years,  not  to  be  terminable  at  the  manager's  option 
(which  was  the  customary  form)  at  the  end  of  the  first.  This  corre- 
spondence was  carried  on  for  some  weeks,  during  which  I  continued 
to  win '"golden  opinions"  in  the  characters  of  Hotspur,  King  Richard 
III.,  George  Barnwell,  Luke  in  "  Riches,"  Alexander,  etc.  I  was 
very  warmly  received  in  the  characters  of  Orestes  and  Alexander  at 
Bristol,  and  concluded  my  performances  at  Bath  with  the  play  of 
"  Riches,"  repeated  for  my  benefit  to  a  crowded  audience.  The  pros- 
perous issue  of  this  engagement  was  acknowledged  very  cordially  by 
the  managers,  who  fixed  its  payment  on  the  terms  I  had  asked,  and 
entered  into  a  contract  with  me  for  the  season  for  a  longer  period  and 
at  an  increased  rate  of  payment.  To  me  the  result  of  this  visit  to 
Bath  was  remunerative  beyond  its  local  influence.  An  engagement  of 
£50  per  week  for  seven  weeks  was  proposed  to  me  by  the  Dublin 
management,  and  was  of  course  accepted  without  hesitation.  This,  as 
an  indication  of  extended  reputation,  and  consequently  of  ample 
income,  made  me  more  independent  of  the  London  managers. 

My  father  had,  in  writing  to  Fawcett  on  the  subject  of  the  Covent 
Garden  negotiation  with  me,  without  my  cognizance,  suggested  to  them 
an  experimental  engagement  for  me  of  six  or  eight  nights  at  £20  per 
night,  my  permanent  establishment  in  the  theater  to  be  determined  by 
the  degree  of  my  success.  At  this  proposition,  which  Fawcett  doubted 
as  being  agreeable  to  me,  they  eagerly  caught,  and  forthwith  tendered 
it  me,  which  I  instantaneously  and  summarily  declined  ;  but  on  this, 
and  other  business,  I  went  myself  to  London,  and  met  there  my  father, 
who  had  gone  to  form  engagements  with  Kean  and  Miss  O'Neill.  On 
the  irrevocable  step  that  he  would  have  me  take,  I  could  not  be 
brought  to  concur  with  his  opinions,  and,  declining  the  terms  proposed 
by  Covent  Garden,  trusted  my  fortunes  for  another  year  to  the  promise 
which  the  country  theaters  held  out  to  me.  My  stay  in  London  was 
limited  to  a  few  days,  which  I  did  not  fail  to  turn  to  the  best  account. 
All  the  world  was  then  under  the  attraction  of  the  two  theatrical 
magnets  of  the  day,  and  it  was  not  likely  that  I  should  be  insensible 
to  their  influence.  Places  were  taken  one  night  at  Drury  Lane  for 
"Richard  III.,"  and  for  another  Fawcett  procured  seats  for  us  in  the 
orchestra  of  Covent  Garden,  to  see  the  Juliet  of  Miss  O'Neill  to  the 
best  advantage.  Kean  was  engaged  to  sup  with  my  father  at  the  York 
Hotel,  after  the  performance  of  "  Richard,"  to  which  I  went  with  no 
ordinary  feelings  of  curiosity.  Cooke's  representation  of  the  part  I 
had  been  present  at  several  times,  and  it  lived  in  my  memory  in  all 
its  sturdy  vigor.  I  use  this  expression  as  applicable  to  him  in  the 
Character  which  Gibber's  clever  stagey  compilation  has  given  to  an 
English  audience  as  Richard  Plantagenet,  in  place  of  Shakespeare's 
creation — the  earnest,  active,  versatile  spirit,  "irapiger,  iracundus,  in- 
eiorabilis,  acer,"  who  makes  a  business  of  his  ambition,  without  let  or 


1814-15.  KEAN  AS  RICHARD  III.  69 

demur  clearing  away  or  cutting  down  the  obstacles  to  his  progress, 
with  not  one  pause  of  compunctious  hesitation.  There  was  a  solidity 
of  deportment  and  manner,  and  at  the  same  time  a  sort  of  unctuous 
enjoyment  of  his  successful  craft,  in  the  soliloquizing  stage  villainy  of 
Cooke,  which  gave  powerful  and  rich  effect  to  the  sneers  and  over- 
bearing retorts  of  Gibber's  hero,  and  certain  points  (as  the  peculiar 
mode  of  delivering  a  passage  is  technically  phrased)  traditional  from 
Garrick  were  made  with  consummate  skill,  significance,  and  power. 

Kean's  conception  was  decidedly  more  Shakespearean.  He  hurried 
you  along  in  his  resolute  course  with  a  spirit  that  brooked  no  delay. 
In  inflexibility  of  will  and  sudden  grasp  of  expedients  he  suggested 
the  idea  of  a  feudal  Napoleon.  His  personation  was  throughout  con- 
sistent, and  he  was  only  inferior  to  Cooke  where  he  attempted  points 
upon  the  same  ground  as  his  distinguished  predecessor.  These  points 
have  often  proved  stumbling-blocks  to  actors  and  false  lights  to  the 
discernment  of  audiences.  The  instances  have  not  been  rare  in  the 
Drama's  history  when  the  frequenters  of  theaters,  on  the  occasion  of 
an  actor's  or  an  actress's  first  essay  in  any  popular  character,  have 
reserved  their  judgments  for  the  effect  to  be  produced  by  one  line  or 
one  speech,  the  particular  point  rendered  famous  by  some  preceding 
player  ;  and  the  artist  has  as  often  been  betrayed  into  labored  efforts 
to  give  prominence  to  such  isolated  passages,  instead  of  relying  on  his 
penetration  into  the  full  depth  of  the  poet's  intention  and  the  perfect 
comprehension  of  his  one  large  and  grand  idea.  "  Primo  ne  medium, 
medio  ne  discrepet  imum."  l 

My  father  and  self  were  betimes  in  our  box.  Pope  was  the  lachry- 
mose and  rather  tedious  performer  of  Henry  VI.  But  when  the  scene 
changed,  and  a  little  kecnly-visaged  man  rapidly  bustled  across  the 
stage,  I  felt  there  was  meaning  in  the  alertness  of  his  manner  and  the 
quickness  of  his  step.  As  the  play  proceeded  I  became  more  and 
more  satisfied  that  there  was  a  mind  of  no  common  order.  In  his 
angry  complaining  of  Nature's  injustice  to  his  bodily  imperfections,  as 
he  uttered  the  line,  "  To  shrink  my  arm  up  like  a  withered  shrub," 
he  remained  looking  on  the  limb  for  some  moments  with  a  sort  of  bit- 
ter discontent,  and  then  struck  it  back  in  angry  disgust.  My  father, 
who  sat  behind  me,  touched  me,  and  whispered,  "It's  very  poor!" 
"  Oh,  no ! "  I  replied,  "  it  is  no  common  thing,"  for  I  found  myself 
stretching  over  the  box  to  observe  him.  The  scene  with  Lady  Anne 
was  entered  on  with  evident  confidence,  and  was  well  sustained,  in  the 
affected  earnestness  of  penitence,  to' its  successful  close.  In  tempting 
Buckingham  to  the  murder  of  the  children,  he  did  not  impress  me  as 
Cooke  was  wont  to  do,  in  whom  the  sense  of  the  crime  was  apparent 
in  the  gloomy  hesitation  with  which  he  gave  reluctant  utterance  to  the 
deed  of  blood.  Kean's  manner  was  consistent  with  his  conception, 

1  "  Let  all  begin,  go  on,  and  end  consistently." 

HORACE,  Art  of  Poetry. 

From  which  the  preceding  quotation  is  also  taken,  and  in  effect  translated  by 
Macready's  context.  —  ED. 


70  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  V 

proposing  their  death  as  a  political  necessity,  and  sharply  requiring  it 
a^  a  Imsiness  to  be  done.  The  two  actors  were  equally  effective  in 
thrir  respective  views  of  the  unscruplous  tyrant;  but  leaving  to  Cooke 
the  more  prosaic  version  of  Gibber,  it  would  have  been  desirable  to 
have  seen  the  energy  and  restless  activity  of  Kean  giving  life  to  racy 
language  and  scenes  of  direct  and  varied  agency  in  the  genuine  trag- 
edy with  which  his  whole  manner  and  appearance  were  so  much  more 
in  harmony.  In  his  studied  mode  of  delivering  the  passages  "  Well ! 
as  you  guess  ?  "  and  "  Off  with  his  head  !  So  much  for  Buckingham  !  " 
he  could  not  approach  the  searching  sarcastic  incredulity,  or  the  rich 
vindictive  chuckle  of  Cooke  ;  but  in  the  bearing  of  the  man  through- 
out, as  the  intriguer,  the  tyrant,  and  the  warrior,  he  seemed  never  to 
relax  the  ardor  of  his  pursuit,  presenting  the  life  of  the  usurper  as  one 
unbroken  whole,  and  closing  it  with  a  death  picturesquely  and  poeti- 
cally grand.  Many  of  the  Kemble  school  resisted  conviction  in  his 
merits,  but  the  fact  that  he  made  me  feel  was  an  argument  to  enroll 
me  with  the  majority  on  the  indisputable  genius  he  displayed. 

"We  retired  to  the  hotel  as  soon  as  the  curtain  fell,  and  were  soon 
joined  by  Kean,  accompanied,  or  rather  attended,  by  Pope.  I  need 
not  say  with  what  intense  scrutiny  I  regarded  him  as  we  shook  hands 
on  our  mutual  introduction.  The  mild  and  modest  expression  of  his 
Italian  features,  and  his  unassuming  manner,  which  I  might  perhajK 
justly  describe  as  partaking  in  some  degree  of  shyness,  took  me  by 
surprise,  and  I  remarked  with  special  interest  the  indifference  with 
which  he  endured  the  fulsome  flatteries  of  Pope.  He  was  very  spar- 
ing of  words  during,  and  for  some  time  after,  supper  ;  but  about  one 
o'clock,  when  the  glass  had  circulated  pretty  freely,  he  became  ani- 
mated, fluent,  and  communicative.  His  anecdotes  were  related  with  a 
lively  sense  of  the  ridiculous  ;  in  the  melodies  he  sang  there  was  a 
touching  grace,  and  his  powers  of  mimicry  were  most  humorously  or 
happily  exerted  in  an  admirable  imitation  of  Braham ;  and  in  a  story 
of  Incledon  acting  Steady  the  Quaker  at  Rochester  without  any  re- 
hearsal, —  where,  in  singing  the  favorite  air,  "  When  the  lads  of  the 
village  so  merrily,  oh  !  "  he  heard  himself  to  his  dismay  and  conster- 
nation accompanied  by  a  single  bassoon,  —  the  music  of  his  voice,  his 
perplexity  at  each  recurring  sound  of  the  bassoon,  his  undertone  mal- 
t-dictions on  the  self-satisfied  musician,  the  peculiarity  of  his  habits,  all 
were  hit  off  with  a  humour  and  an  exactness  that  equaled  the  best 
display  JMathews  ever  made,  and  almost  convulsed  us  with  laughter. 
It  was  a  memorable  evening,  the  first  and  last  I  ever  spent  in  private 
with  this  extraordinary  man. 

In  its  outward  graces  how  different  was  the  excellence  which,  a 
night  or  two  after,  excited  my  enthusiastic  admiration  when  Shake- 
speare's Juliet  made  her  entry  on  the  scene  in  the  person  of  Miss 
O'Neill !  Our  seats  in  the  orchestra  of  Covent  Garden  gave  me  the 
opportunity  of  noting  every  slightest  flash  of  emotion  or  shade  of 
thought  that  passed  over  her  countenance.  The  charming  picture  she 
presented  was  one  that  time  could  not  efface  from  the  memory.  It 


1813-14.  MISS  O'NEILL  AS  JULIET.  71 

was  not  altogether  the  matchless  beauty  of  form  and  face,  but  the 
spirit  of  perfect  innocence  and  purity  that  seemed  to  glisten  in  her 
speaking  eyes  and  breathe  from  her  chiseled  lips.  To  her  might  justly 
be  ascribed  the  negative  praise,  in  my  mind  the  highest  commendation 
that,  as  an  artist,  man  or  woman  can  receive,  of  a  total  absence  of  any 
approach  to  affectation.  There  was  in  her  look,  voice,  and  manner  an 
artlessness,  an  apparent  unconsciousness  (so  foreign  to  the  generality 
of  stage  performers)  that  riveted  the  spectator's  gaze  ;  but  when,  with 
altered  tones  and  eager  glance,  she  inquired,  as  he  lingeringly  left  her, 
the  name  of  Romeo  of  the  Nurse,  and  bade  her  go  and  learn  it,  the 
revolution  in  her  whole  being  was  evident,  anticipating  the  worse.  — 

"  If  he  be  married, 
My  grave  is  like  to  be  my  wedding-bed." 

I  have  heard  objections  to  the  warmth  of  her  passionate  confessions 
in  the  garden  scene  ;  but  the  love  of  the  maid  of  sunny  Italy  is  not 
to  be  measured  and  judged  by  the  phlegmatic  formalist. 

"My  bounty  is  as  boundless  as  the  sea, 
My  love  as  deep  ;  the  more  I  give  to  thee, 
The  more  I  have,  for  both  are  infinite," 

is  her  heart's  utterance.  Love  was  to  her  life  ;  life  not  valued,  if  un- 
sustained  by  love.  Such  was  the  impression  Miss  O'Neill's  conception 
of  the  character  made,  rendering  its  catastrophe  the  only  natural  refuge 
of  a  guileless  passion  so  irresistible  and  absorbing.  In  the  second  act 
the  impatience  of  the  love-sick  maid  to  obtain  tidings  of  her  lover  was 
delightfully  contrasted  with  the  winning  playfulness  with  which  she  so 
dexterously  lured  back  to  doting  fondness  the  pettish  humor  of  the 
testy  old  Nurse,  and  in  rushing  to  her  appointment  at  the  Friar's  cell, 
her  whole  soul  was  in  the  utterance  of  the  words,  "  Hie  to  high  for- 
tune !  Honest  Nurse,  farewell."  The  desperate  alternative  to  which 
the  command  of  Capulet  that  she  should  marry  Paris  reduced  her, 
transformed  the  gentle  girl  at  once  into  a  heroine,  and  the  distracting 
contention  of  her  fears  and  resolution  rose  to  a  frantic  climax  of  pas- 
sion, abruptly  closed  by  her  exclamation,  "  Romeo  !  I  come  !  This  do 
I  drink  to  thee !  "  Through  my  whole  experience  hers  was  the  only 
representation  of  Juliet  I  have  seen,  and  as  the  curtain  fell,  I  left  my 
seat  in  the  orchestra  with  the  words  of  lachimo  in  my  mind,  "  All  of 
her,  that  is  out  of  door,  most  rich!  ....  She  is  alone  the  Arabian 
bird." 


72  MAC  READY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  VI. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

1815.  —  Engagement  at  Glasgow — At  Dublin  —  Humors  and  character  of  the 
Dublin  audiences  —  Their  peculiarities  and  attachment  to  old  favorites  —  Bath 
—  Profit  to  be  made  by  an  actor  out  of  a  bad  house — Importance  of  study  — 
Mentevolc  —  Kitcly  —  Pierre  —  Duke  Aranza  —  The  Twiss  family  —  Offers 
from  Drury  Lane  and  Coven t  Garden  theaters  —  Meeting  with  brother  at  Wey- 
mouth  —  Officers  at  Bath  —  Mrs.  Piozzi  —  Difficulties  of  the  actor's  art  —  Ama- 
teur actors  —  Performing  with  "  Romeo  Coates"  at  Bath  —  Leontes  —  Don- 
court —  Don  Felix. 

AFTER  one  night's  performance  at  Bristol  I  made  my  journey  to 
Glasgow  by  way  of  Newcastle,  where  I  spent  a  day  or  two  with  my 
family.  At  Glasgow  I  repeated  my  principal  characters  to  good  re- 
ceipts ;  but  with  Kean's  first  engagement  in  Scotland  announced  over 
my  head  at  greatly  advanced  prices,  in  which  he  was  to  be  paid  £100 
per  night,  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the  young  country  actor  should 
lure  as  well  as  if  the  field  had  been  open.  The  produce  of  my  engage- 
ment was  however  very  satisfactory,  putting  a  very  handsome  sum  in 
my  pocket.  A  trifling  occurrence,  to  be  remembered  in  after-life,  fell 
out  on  the  night  of  my  benefit.  A  pretty  little  girl,  about  nine  years 
of  age,  was  sent  on  at  a  very  short  notice  to  act  the  part  of  one  of  the 
children  in  Dimond's  pleasant  farce,  "  The  Hunter  of  the  Alps."  She 
was  imperfect  in  the  words  she  had  to  speak,  having  had  no  time  to 
learn  them  ;  not  being  aware  of  this,  I  scolded  her  on  coming  off  the 
stage  for  her  neglect,  which  I  was  afterwards  sorry  for,  as  it  cost  her 
many  tears.  In  later  life  this  incident  was  recalled  to  me  in  a  very 
unexpected  manner. 

From  Glasgow  my  route  to  Dublin  was  by  Port  Patrick,  the  little 
haven  of  a  dreary  rock-bound  coast,  where  I  was  detained  in  a  miser- 
able inn  a  whole  day,  wind-bound.  The  next  morning  the  master  of 
the  packet  announced  his  intention  to  try  the  passage,  though  the  wind 
was  strong  and  almost  ahead.  The  little  vessel  was  "  warped  "  out  of 
the  harbor,  a  boat  having  taken  out  a  cable  and  fastened  it  to  a  buoy 
outside,  up  to  which,  with  a  windlass,  we  were  hauled,  the  master  ob- 
serving to  me,  as  the  sail  was  being  spread,  "  if  that  cable  had  given 
way,  nothing  could  have  saved  us  from  being  dashed  to  pieces  on  the 
rocks."  By  dint  of  many  tacks  we  reached  Donaghadee  in  a  few 
hours ;  but  on  the  passage  I  got  into  conversation  with  a  young  man 
of  the  name  of  Conroy,  who  informed  me  that  he  had  reached  Port 
Patrick  by  the  same  packet  on  his  way  to  visit  a  friend  in  Glasgow 
College,  that  he  had  lost  his  luggage  and  his  purse,  and  must  now  re- 
turn to  Dublin,  as  well  as  he  could,  to  obtain  a  fresh  supply.  I  offered 
him  the  assistance  of  my  purse,  and  we  proceeded  together  to  Belfast, 
and  thence  to  Dublin,  I  having  accommodated  him  with  linen  and  £6 
odd  in  cash,  which  was  to  be  repaid  immediately.  The  linen  was  re- 
turned, but  of  cash  and  Conroy  I  never  heard  more.  My  Dublin  en- 
gagement, in  which  I  repeated  several  times  my  most  favorite  charac- 
ters, that  of  Luke  being  the  most  popular,  added  to  my  reputation  and 
materially  improved  my  finances.  "Richard  II."  was  produced  for 


1815.  DUBLIN  AUDIENCES.  73 

my  benefit,  and  as  usual  applauded,  but  did  not  attract.  I  made  some 
agreeable  acquaintances  here,  among  whom  I  remember  with  peculiar 
pleasure  the  genial  kind  Joseph  Atkinson,  Moore's  most  intimate  friend. 
At  his  house,  with  others  of  more  note,  I  met  the  Dean  of  Ferns,  who 
enjoyed  the  reputation  of  being  the  only  man  that  could  sit  out  through 
the  whole  night  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  when  Lord  Lieutenant,  over 
whisky-punch.  From  Lord  Castlecoote  I  received  much  attention,  and 
found  a  very  warm  friend  in  a  humorous  resemblance  of  Falstaff  re- 
joicing in  the  name  of  Mick  Doyle,  who  had  been  on  the  stage,  and 
subsequently  at  the  head  of  the  Customs,  from  which  he  had  retired 
with  a  good  property  and  a  good  pension.  It  required  some  effort  to 
preserve  our  grave  looks  when  he  used  to  lament  over  his  condition. 
"There's  poor  old  Mrs.  Doyle!  she's  an  excellent  woman,  a  very 
good  creature  ;  but  she  's  of  no  earthly  use  to  me.  If  God  Almighty 
would  be  good  enough  to  take  her  to  Himself,  it  would  be  much  better 
for  both  of  us." 

The  value  of  the  principle  that  I  had  laid  down  as  a  primary  duty' 
in  my  art,  viz.  always  to  be  in  earnest,  was  enforced  upon  me  still  more 
strongly  by  my  experience  before  a  Dublin  audience.  Their  attention 
arrested  and  their  feelings  once  excited,  the  actor  enjoyed  in  their 
glowing  sympathy  the  full  triumph  of  his  art.  The  national  character 
might  be  read  with  tolerable  correctness  in  their  theater.  Keenly  sen- 
sitive to  the  commanding  truth  of  the  poet's  or  the  player's  passion, 
they  would  as  often  find  resource  in  their  own  humor  from  their  dull- 
ness or  inefficiency.  It  would  not  unfrequently  happen  that  the  hu- 
mor of  the  gallery  would  prove  the  ruler  of  the  hour,  disturbing  the 
more  sedate  of  the  spectators  and  utterly  discomposing  the  player ; 
until,  checked  by  perhaps  some  energetic  declamation  or  sobered  by 
some  touch  of  nature,  they  would  surrender  themselves  to  the  potent 
influence  of  the  scene,  and  beneath  its  charm  no  assembly  could  watch 
more  intently,  with  more  discriminating  taste,  or  more  lavish  applause, 
"  the  dream  of  passion "  passing  before  them.  The  anecdotes  are 
numerous  that  have  been  current  of  the  Dublin  galleries'  waggeries. 
I  remember  on  one  occasion  acting  the  character  of  Pierre  in  "  Venice 
Preserved."  My  friend  Jafner  displayed  a  rotundity  of  person  that 
might  have  agreed  with  the  simile  to  which  he  likened  himself,  of  a 
"  full  ear  of  corn,"  but  certainly  showed  no  appearance  of  being  "  with- 
ered in  the  ripening."  As  if  in  accordance  with  this  obesity,  his  de- 
livery was  drawling  and  his  deportment  heavy.  In  the  scene  pre- 
pared for  the  execution  of  Pierre,  after  he  had  struck  me  and  himself 
with  his  dagger,  and  gasping  out  the  few  spirited  words  of  the  defiant 
conspirator,  I  had  closed  my  part  with  the  cordial  plaudits  of  the  au- 
dience, a  long  and  rather  drowsy  dying  speech  of  my  poor  friend  Jaffier 
was  "  dragging  its  slow  length  along,"  when  one  of  the  gallery,  in  a 
tone  of  great  impatience,  called  out  very  loudly,  "  Ah  !  now,  die  at 
once  ; "  to  which  another  from  the  other  side  immediately  replied, 
"  Be  quiet,  you  blackguard,"  then  turned  with  a  patronizing  tone  to 
the  lingering  Jafner,  "  Take  your  time  ! " 


74  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  VI. 

There  was  one  peculiarity  to  which  this  audience  clung,  in  Grafc- 
t:m's  phrase,  "with  desperate  fidelity."  Their  attachment  to  old  sta- 
tionary favorites  was  maintained  with  an  ardor  and  persistency  that 
repelled  the  interference  of  their  better  judgment ;  and  from  dates 
lost  in  the  memory  of  play-goers,  "  old  "  Fullam,  Williams,  Johnson, 
and  Talbot,  four  mediocre  performers,  held  undisputed  pre-eminence  in 
their  partial  opinions  above  the  best  London  comedians.  Even  Miss 
O'Neill  did  not  displace  Miss  Walstein  as  their  favorite  tragic  actress, 
though  they  allowed  her  the  palm  of  superiority  in  comedy,  the  Irish 
Widow  being  considered  as  one  of  her  most  celebrated  personations. 
Of  course  I  speak  of  the  notions  that  were  rife  at  that  time.  From 
Dublin  to  Liverpool  our  passage  in  the  sailing  packet  was  a  very  good 
one,  twenty-two  hours,  whence  1  hurried  on  to  act  in  the  race  week  at 
Newcas  tie-on -Tyne,  where  I  was  again  at  home  and  among  old  friends. 
Cheverille,  in  Ilolcroft's  comedy  of  "  The  Deserted  Daughter,"  and 
Shakespeare's  "  King  Henry  V."  were  the  only  new  characters  I  at- 
tempted there,  but  neither  elicited  any  particular  demonstration  of  ap- 
proval, and  indeed  deserved  none ;  for  having  barely  mastered  the 
text  of  each,  all  effect  was  left  to  chance,  as  I  found  by  subsequent 
diligent  study  in  making  Henry  one  of  my  most  popular  assumptions. 

My  summer,  spent  in  company  with  my  sisters,  was  divided  be- 
tween professional  engagements  at  Carlisle,  Dumfries,  and  Berwick- 
upon-Tweed,  and  some  holiday  weeks  in  my  old  favorite  retreat  of 
Holy  Island,  from  whence  we  made  excursions  to  Bamborough  Castle, 
Wark,  Forham,  etc.,  or  frequently  dined  and  drank  tea  among  the 
rocks  or  sandy  hills  of  the  island  under  a  little  tent  that  I  had  con- 
structed to  supply  the  want  of  a  bathing-house,  —  days  of  enjoyment 
that  I  have  never  ceased  to  reckon  among  the  pleasures  of  the  past. 
It  was  with  regret  I  parted  from  them,  but  ill-blood  made  my  leave- 
taking  of  my  father  much  more  to  be  sorrowed  for.  In  matters  of 
business  he  would  take  refuge  in  outbreaks  of  temper,  and  the  issue 
would  be  an  abrupt  separation.  As  I  review  our  differences  I  cannot 
honestly  prefer  excuses  in  his  favor,  but  in  making  more  allowances 
for  him  I  should  have  been  in  all  respects  wiser ;  the  more  I  had 
yielded,  the  more  I  should  have  had  reason  to  have  been  satisfied  with 
myself. 

During  a  short  engagement  at  Greenock,  which  added  little  to  my 
stock,  the  tidings  came  of  the  victory  of  Waterloo,  and  several  anxious 
days  were  passed  before  the  published  list  of  killed  and  wounded  gave 
me  assurance  of  my  dear  brother's  safety.  All  the  officers  of  his  com- 
pany had  been  put  hors  de  combat,  either  killed  or  severely  wounded, 
but  ho.  bringing  the  company  out  of  action,  gained  his  lieutenancy. 
Another  short  interval  of  relaxation  at  Holy  Island  and  I  was  again 
en  route,  with  engagements  before  me  for  some  months  to  come.  At 
Chester  I  was  well  received  by  respectable  audiences,  but  at  Sheffield, 
where  my  name  was  well  known,  my  attraction  was  very  great,  and 
the  four  nights  I  acted  there  swelled  the  growth  of  my  little  purse 
considerably.  These  towns  were  taken  on  my  road  to  Bath  and  Bris- 
tol, where  I  was  to  pass  the  greater  part  of  the  winter. 


1815.  ACTING  FOR  PRACTICE.  75 

From  circumstances  that  I  do  not  remember,  the  season  at  Bath 
was  a  dull  one,  and  the  theater  suffered  proportionately  with  the  other 
places  of  amusement.  But  this  did  not  prevent  me  from  using  as  a 
means  of  study  for  my  improvement  the  practice  it  afforded  me.  A 
full  attendance  is  to  generally  required  as  a  spur  to  a  performer's  ex- 
ertions, and  to  a  beggarly  account  of  empty  boxes  many  have  been  in 
the  habit  of  slurring  over  (or  what  is  known  as  "  walking  through  ") 
their  parts.  Indeed,  I  have  been  present  when,  on  their  benefit 
nights,  performers  have  not  only  walked  with  contemptuous  indiffer- 
ence through  their  parts,  but  have  resented  on  the  auditors  present  the 
absence  of  those  who  stayed  away.  It  was  a  rule  with  me  to  make 
what  profit  I  could  out  of  a  bad  house,  and  before  the  most  meagre 
audiences  ever  assembled  it  has  been  my  invariable  practice  to  strive 
my  best,  using  the  opportunity  as  a  lesson ;  and  I  am  conscious  of 
having  derived  great  benefit  from  the  rule.  I  used  to  call  it  "  acting 
to  myself;"  as  indeed  it  was  transferring  the  study  of  a  character 
from  my  own  apartment  to  the  stage,  where  it  was  much  less  irksome ; 
for  in  the  solitude  of  a  lodging  to  continue  over  and  over  again  the 
repetition  of  passages  with  strict  attention  to  one's  elocution,  deport- 
ment, gesture,  and  countenance,  guarding  against  exaggeration,  whilst 
lashing  one's  self  up  to  the  highest  strain  of  passion,  and  this  without 
any  stimulus  or  any  test  beyond  the  individual's  trust  of  having  struck 
the  chord  aright,  was  a  sort  of  darkling  procedure,  groping  or  feeling 
one's  way,  that  called  upon  me  often  for  strong  efforts  of  persever- 
ance, being  more  trying  to  the  constancy  and  patience  of  the  student 
than  falls  to  the  lot  of  any  other  art :  for  in  others  the  advances  made 
are  visible  in  the  comparison  of  the  works  completed ;  but  the  player, 
by  dint  of  repeated  efforts,  must  perfect  himself  in  tones,  attitudes, 
looks,  of  which  he  can  only  learn  the  effect  under  the  nervous  excite- 
ment of  experimenting  their  power  on  the  uncertain  sympathies  of 
an  heterogeneous  assembly. 

More  than  once  in  my  life  I  have  heard,  in  dogmatic  tone  and  with 
an  oracular  air,  certain  soi-disant  critics  bestowing  on  a  player  espe- 
cial praise  on  the  ground  that  his  acting  was  quite  natural,  unpremed- 
itated ;  that  he  did  not  require  study,  and  that  he  never  delivered  the 
salient  points  of  a  character  twice  in  the  same  way.  What  would 
reflection  deduce  from  this,  but  that,  although  the  artist  may  be  sub- 
ject more  or  less  to  the  accidental  variation  of  his  animal  spirits,  yet, 
as  there  must  be  one  form  of  expression  which  he  finds  nearest  to  the 
exact  truth,  in  once  attaining  this,  every  deviation  or  declension  from 
it  must  be  more  or  less  a  detonation  ?  Study  will  bring  ease,  grace, 
and  self-posession  —  the  indispensable  groundwork  of  the  actor's  art ; 
but  to  evoke  the  various  emotions  that  will  give  with  fidelity  nature's 
own  expression  to  his  look  and  voice  — "  hie  labor,  hoc  opus  est." 
As  Talma  used  to  say,  "  there  was  only  one  best "  —  to  discover  that 
is  the  labor  of  the  artist ;  and  having  once  achieved  this,  is  it  recon- 
cilable to  common  sense  that  he  would  endanger  his  credit  by  tamper- 
ing with  the  truth  his  patient  investigation  had  wrought  out  ?  The 


7G  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  VI. 

approach  to  perfection  is  indeed  usually  so  gradual,  that,  in  one  whose 
principle  it  would  be  to  labor  in  his  several  performances  to  improve 
on  what  had  gone  before,  whose  motto  to  the  very  last  words  he  ut- 
ters on  the  scene  is  "  Excelsior,"  the  degrees  of  his  toilsome  ascent 
may  be  sometimes  distinguishable,  but  beyond  such  shadowy  variations 
his  design  and  its  treatment  will  remain  unchanged. 

Lord  Hastings  in  Rowe's  tragedy  of  "  Jane  Shore,"  and  Leon  in 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  comedy  of  "  Rule  a  Wife  and  Have  a  Wife," 
were  new  undertakings  for  me.  In  the  proud  and  gallant  courtier, 
Hastings,  I  was  much  applauded ;  on  Leon  I  had  not  bestowed  suffi- 
cient thought  and  pains  for  the  insurance  of  success.  But  a  character 
which  far  more  than  either  of  these  laid  hold  on  my  fancy,  was  given 
to  me  by  Dimond.  Unfortunately  the  play  was  one  which  the  great- 
est adept  in  the  histrionic  art  could  never  have  rendered  popular. 
Its  title  was  "  Julia,  or  the  Italian  Lover ;  "  the  author's  name  Jeph- 
son.  Kemble  had  appeared  in  it,  with  Mrs.  Siddous  as  the  heroine  ; 
had  been  praised  and  the  performance  forgotten.  The  story  opens 
and  sets  in  unbroken  gloom ;  no  ray  of  hope  once  glances  on  its  lan- 
guid progress,  leading  to  a  catastrophe  which  the  spectator  has  from 
the  first  anticipated.  Claudio,  the  betrothed  lover  of  Julia,  had  per- 
ished by  the  hand  of  an  unknown  assassin,  and  since  his  death  Mente- 
vole  has  been  her  devoted  though  unsuccessful  suitor.  In  this  char- 
acter, in  his  absorbing  passion  and  his  irrepressible  restlessness  of 
demeanor  betraying  a  mind  ill  at  ease,  the  interest  of  the  tragedy  cen- 
ters. The  incidents  are  few  and  meager  until  the  last  act,  when  his 
guilt  as  the  murderer  of  Claudio  is  brought  to  light.  In  this  scene, 
in  the  assassin's  agitated  endeavors  to  disprove  the  charge  and  his 
subsequent  desperate  avowal  of  the  deed,  there  is  great  scope  for  the 
actor's  art.  A  very  powerful  impression  was  produced  by  it.  In  its 
performance,  in  the  actual  scene,  I  remember  well  the  image  of  a  pris- 
oner on  trial  at  Carlisle  vainly  attempting  to  preserve  his  composure 
under  the  consciousnes  of  guilt  flashed  back  upon  me,  and  greatly 
aided  me  in  giving  reality  to  the  emotion  of  the  agonized  Mentevole. 
The  language  of  the  play  does  not  redeem  the  unfortunate  dullness  of 
the  plot :  never  rising  to  the  poetical,  in  its  more  ambitious  strain,  its 
cumbrous  verse  is  often  inflated  and  exaggerated.  In  point  of  com- 
position its  best  passage  is  the  expostulation  of  Mentevole  with  Julia, 
in  the  fourth  act  : 

"Oh,  thou  unthankful  beauty  !  think  a  little, 
How  envied,  hut  for  thee,  had  been  my  lot. 
My  youth  had  glided  down  life's  easy  stream 
With  every  sail  outspread  for  every  pleasure. 
Hut  from  the  hour  I  saw  thv  fatal  charms 
My  bosom  has  been  Hell.     I  low  I  have  loved, 
All  my  neglected  duties  of  the  world  — 
Friends,  parents,  interest,  country  —  all  forgotten  — 
Cry  out  against  me  ;  now  I  count  the  exchange, 
And  find  all  bartered  tor  thy  hate  and  scorn  ! " 

But  with  its  many  faults  the  "  Italian  Lover "  rendered  me  good 


1815.  NEGOTIATION  WITH  DRURY  LANE.  77 

service  in  obtaining  for  me  very  high  praise  in  its  principal  character. 
The  performance  of  Benedict  in  Shakespeare's  "  Much  Ado  about 
Nothing  "  won  me  friends,  among  others  the  family  of  Francis  Twiss, 
who  had  married  the  loveliest  of  Mrs.  Siddons's  sisters.  Horace  Twiss 
called  on  me  at  his  mother's  desire,  and  it  was  to  that  performance  of 
Benedict  I  was  indebted  for  an  intimacy  with  friends  whose  attach- 
ment to  me  lasted  through  their  lives,  and  whose  memory  I  hold  in 
ever  grateful  regard. 

Ben  Jonson's  comedy  of  "  Every  Man  in  his  Humor  "  was  revived ; 
but  for  the  part  of  Kitely,  one  of  the  most  difficult  out  of  Shakespeare 
on  the  stage,  and  which  in  after  years  I  made  one  of  my  ablest  person- 
ations, sufficient  time  was  not  allowed,  nor  had  I  then  experience  for 
the  mastery  of  so  eccentric  a  character.  With  humors  admirably 
sketched  and  most  happily  contrasted,  the  play  will  never  hold  its  place 
on  the  stage.  There  can  scarcely  be  found  a  company  of  players  to 
adequately  fill  the  various  parts  ;  and  if  there  were  by  chance  such 
combinations,  their  best  efforts  could  not  long  give  life  to  a  drama  that 
is  totally  devoid  of  action.  Pierre  in  "  Venice  Preserved,"  and  the 
Duke  Aranza  in  Tobin's  "  Honeymoon,"  were  additional  steps  for  me 
in  public  favor. 

At  this  time  Drury  Lane  Theater  was  under  the  management  of  a 
sub-committee  of  five  members,  which  included  Lord  Byron,  the  Hon. 
Douglas  Kinnaird,  and  the  Hon.  George  Lambe.  From  the  latter  I 
received  a  letter  in  very  courteous  terms  inquiring  whether  I  was  dis- 
posed to  take  an  engagement  at  Drury  Lane.  A  long  correspondence 
followed ;  but  when  we  approached  the  subject  of  terms  and  I  stated 
the  tender  from  Covent  Garden  which  I  had  refused  the  year  before, 
Mr.  Kinnaird  wrote  declining  on  the  part  of  the  committee  to  make 
any  offer.  This  seemed  to  me  abrupt,  if  not  unhandsome,  to  amuse 
me  so  long  with  a  negotiation  that  meant  nothing,  and  I  accordingly 
intimated  as  much  to  Mr.  Lambe,  observing  that  I  was  justified  in  ex- 
pecting some  proposal,  however  moderate  it  might  be.  He  replied  in 
a  most  gentlemanly  strain,  apologizing  for  all  the  trouble  he  had  given 
me,  and  admitting  that  the  finances  of  Drury  Lane  not  enabling  the 
committee  to  compete  with  Covent  Garden  in  the  salaries  of  new  per- 
formers, they  had  considered  it  better  to  close  the  negotiation,  than  to 
tender  what  they  were  aware  I  could  not  accept.  It  was  the  earnest 
wish  of  my  friends  at  Rugby  to  see  me  in  London,  and  they  could  not 
understand  the  Fabian  policy  under  which  I  acted  in  delaying  my  ap- 
pearance there.  All  the  interest  they  could  bring  to  bear  (unknown 
to  me)  was  exerted  to  incline  the  Drury  Lane  Committee  to  introduce 
me  to  a  London  audience,  but  they,  the  committee,  were  for  cheap 
ventures,  and  my  price  was  too  high.  My  friend  and  tutor,  Birch, 
had  applied  to  the  Rev.  J.  Noel,  an  old  college  chum  of  his  and  a  re- 
lation of  Lady  Byron,  to  use  his  influence  with  Lord  Byron  in  the 
matter  ;  and  in  reporting  to  me  some  years  afterwards  the  issue  of  his 
intervention,  he  laughed  heartily  at  the  characteristic  conclusion  to 
which  the  great  poet  came  on  the  subject.  Noel  had  been  instructed 


78  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  VI. 

to  expatiate  on  my  professional  qualifications  and  successes,  and  added 
(I  know  not  whether  from  himself  or  his  prompters),  "  And,  besides 
all  this,  Mr.  Macready  is  a  very  moral  man."  "  Ha  !  then,"  replied 
Byron,  "  I  suppose  he  asks  five  pounds  a  week  more  for  his  morality." 
The  enterprise  and  liberal  speculation  of  the  Covent  Garden  proprie- 
tors showed  in  striking  contrast  with  the  timid  economy  of  the  Drury 
Lane  management.  A  letter  from  Fawcett  at  this  very  time,  re-open- 
ing our  negotiation  in  very  cordial  terms,  observes  to  me  that  "  Kean 
seems  likely  to  be  more  in  your  way  at  Drury  Lane  than  Young 
would  be  at  Covent  Garden.  All  your  best  parts  you  might  act  with 
us  and  not  trespass  upon  anybody.  Come  to  us  next  year  —  for  one 
year,  two  years,  three  years,  or  for  life.  The  article  shall  be  made  as 
you  please,  only  don't  be  exorbitant."  This  frank  and  business-like 
invitation  was  the  commencement  of  a  renewed  correspondence  with 
the  Covent  Garden  management. 

About  the  same  time  I  was  unexpectedly  hailed  from  Portland 
Roads,  where  several  transports  conveying  to  Ireland  troops  that  had 
formed  part  of  the  army  of  occupation  round  Paris  were  lying  at 
anchor.  A  few  hasty  lines  from  my  brother  informed  me  that  they 
were  impatiently  waiting  there  for  a  change  of  wind  to  carry  them  to 
Cork,  and  that  being  unable  to  leave  his  ship,  he  sent,  finding  himself 
so  near  me,  a  word  or  two  of  greeting.  Not  being  required  at  the 
theater  for  three  or  four  successive  nights,  my  anxiety  to  see  him  after 
two  years'  absence,  in  which  he  had  been  exposed  to  dangers  and  vi- 
cissitudes, overcame  all  prudential  scruples  ;  and,  for  the  chance  of  find- 
ing him  still  in  harbor,  1  set  off  in  the  evening  by  the  mail  to  Salisbury. 
from  which  I  posted  on  through  the  night,  and  dressing  and  breakfast- 
ing at  Dorchester,  reached  Weymouth  about  nine  o'clock.  To  my 
great  joy  I  learned  that  the  Bideford  and  the  other  transports  were 
still  in  the  Roads,  and  a  good  pair  of  oars  soon  brought  me  alongside 
of  the  ship,  the  deck  of  which  was  crowded  with,  soldiers  in  various 
stages  of  the  morning's  toilet.  I  inquired  for  Lieutenant  Macready, 
and  hearing  he  was  in  the  cabin,  with  a  quickly  beating  heart  I  de- 
scended the  narrow  steps,  as  one  of  the  officers  called  out,  "  Jack,  you 
are  wanted."  Several  were  in  the  close  little  stifling  place,  but  there 
among  them  was  he  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  little  altered  from  the  boy  I 
had  parted  with  two  years  ago.  He  met  me  with  an  unexpected 
exclamation  of  "  Ah  !  d — n  it,  Will,  how  are  you  ?  "  I  told  him  I 
had  a  boat  waiting,  and  on  his  obtaining  leave  he  returned  to  Wey- 
mouth with  me.  How  different  in  after  years  was  his  grave,  reserved, 
and  gentlemanly  address !  Our  few  hours  were  passed  in  mutual  rela- 
tion of  the  events  that  had  befallen  us  ;  and,  as  three  more  of  the 
regiment  had  come  on  shore  in  the  course  of  the  day,  to  prolong  our 
tete-a-tete  wo  dined  together  at  the  Royal  Hotel  on  the  Esplanade  — 
a  dinner  which,  from  the  impudent  extravagance  of  its  charge,  would 
cause  me  to  remember  Weymouth,  if  all  else  were  to  be  forgotten.  In 
a  dull  dingy  room,  looking  out  on  the  back  of  the  premises,  with  ordi- 
nary table  service,  for  a  haddock,  leg  of  Portland  mutton,  apple  tart, 


1815.     .  OFFICERS  AT  BATH.  79 

bottle  of  Madeira  (charged  8s.),  bottle  of  port  (6s.),  a  bill  was  pre- 
sented to  me  of  £2  16s.  We  supped  at  a  more  moderate  inn  with  the 
other  men  of  the  30th  (all  since  gone,  not  one  Waterloo  man  left  in 
the  regiment),  and  the  next  morning,  taking  leave  of  Edward,  who  was 
to  write  to  me  on  his  arrival  with  the  regiment  at  Buttevant,  I  set  out 
on  my  return  to  Bath. 

Little  more  than  a  week  had  elapsed  after  my  arrival  there,  when 
early  one  morning,  to  my  perfect  amazement,  Edward  walked  into  my 
bedroom  in  the  deshabille  which  he  wore  on  board  transport.  His  ex- 
planation was  soon  given.  The  ship  had  been  driven  back  by  con- 
trary winds  to  Portsmouth,  where  several  of  the  officers  had  gone  on 
shore  to  lounge  about  the  place  ;  he,  with  an  ensign  of  the  name  of 
Gregg,  had  not  been  apprised  of  the  signal  for.  sail,  and  had  been  left 
in  the  town  without  cash  or  clothes  of  a  presentable  appearance.  The 
landlord  of  the  hotel  advanced  them  money  for  their  journey  to  Bath, 
for  which,  with  the  amount  of  their  bills,  my  brother  gave  a  written 
undertaking.  From  the  superfluity  of  my  wardrobe,  with  my  tailor's 
assistance,  he  was  readily  equipped,  but  how  to  manage  for  his  friend 
was  a  more  difficult  question.  They  had  brought  away  a  very  hand- 
some shako,  just  sent  down  to  the  regiment,  and  we  persuaded  Gregg 
to  mount  my  Captain  Plume's  jacket,  a  fancy  uniform,  over  which  he 
put  his  own  braided  surcoat,  and,  with  Edward's  gay  shako,  went  out 
in  the  afternoon  to  parade  with  the  fashionable  throng  of  Milsom 
Street,  not  being  aware  that  a  military  dress  Avas  never  seen  in  the 
streets  of  Bath.  It  seems  he  almost  immediately  encountered  two 
general  officers,  who  stared  with  looks  of  manifest  displeasure  on  the 
extraordinary  phenomenon ;  and  to  complete  his  vexation,  some  sub- 
alterns whom  he  knew  sent  him  back  to  my  lodgings  to  unfrock 
himself  in  a  state  of  extreme  perturbation.  My  brother  and  his  com- 
panion were  obliged  to  wait  the  sailing  of  the  Bristol  packet  to  Cork. 
In  the  mean  time  I  enabled  Edward  to  discharge  his  dues  to  his  Ports- 
mouth landlord,  and  furnishing  him  with  funds  for  their  passage,  etc., 
I  took  leave  of  them  at  Bristol  after  my  performance  of  Kitely,  and 
had  the  satisfaction  in  a  few  days  of  hearing  that,  by  fortune  of  a  very 
favorable  gale,  they  had  reached  their  regiment  just  in  time  to  an- 
nounce their  arrival  to  the  Colonel  on  the  24th. 

Among  other  memorable  acquaintances  that  my  good  fortune  gave 
me  in  this  pleasant  city  was  Dr.  Gibbs,  the  leading  physician  of  the 
place,  afterwards  knighted  by  the  Regent  for  his  attendance  on  Queen 
Charlotte.  Pie  had  been  a  college  chum  of  my  cousin,  Walter  Birch, 
who  still  retained  his  fellowship  of  Magdalen,  and  who  at  my  first  in- 
troduction to  Gibbs  dined  with  me  at  his  house.  The  party  was  select 
and  very  agreeable,  but  rendered  especially  interesting  by  the  announce- 
ment in  the  evening  of  "  Mrs.  Piozzi."  It  seemed  almost  as  if  a  por- 
trait by  Sir  Joshua  had  stepped  out  of  its  frame,  when  the  little  old 
lady,  dressed  point  de  vice  in  black  satin,  with  dark  glossy  ringlets  un- 
der her  neat  black  hat,  highly  rouged,  not  the  end  of  a  ribbon  or  lace 
out  of  its  place,  with  an  unfaltering  step  entered  the  room.  And  was 


80  MAC  READY  S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  VI. 

this  really  "  the  Mrs.  Thrale,"  the  stage  monitress  of  "  The  Three 
Warnings,"  the  indefatigable  tea-maker  of  the  Great  Insatiable  ?  She 
was  instantly  the  center  on  which  every  eye  was  fixed,  engrossing  the 
attention  of  all.  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  a  particular  introduction  to 
her,  and  was  surprised  and  delighted  with  her  vivacity  and  good-humor. 
The  request  that  she  would  read  to  us  from  Milton  was  very  readily 
complied  with,  and  I  was  given  to  understand  she  piqued  herself  on 
her  superiority  in  giving  effect  to  the  great  poet's  verse.  She  selected 
a  passage  from  the  eleventh  book  of  "  Paradise  Lost,"  descriptive  of 
the  lazar-house,  enunciating  with  studied  and  elaborate  distinctness 
each  of  the  enumerated  physical  ills  "  that  flesh  is  heir  to."  The  finger 
on  the  dial-plate  of  the  pendule  was  just  approaching  the  hour  of  ten, 
when  with  a  kind  of  Cinderella-like  abruptness  she  rose  and  took  her 
leave,  evidently  as  much  gratified  in  contributing  to  our  entertainment 
as  we  were  by  the  opportunity  of  making  her  acquaintance.  Dr.  Gibbs 
informed  us  that  she  never  under  any  circumstances  overstepped  by  a 
single  minute  the  hour  of  ten  in  returning  home. 

It  was  my  lot  some  days  later  to  meet  her  again  at  my  friends,  the 
Tvvisses  ;  but  here  there  were  not  more  than  five  or  six  elderly  persons, 
and  a  bevy  of  young  girls,  most  or  all  of  them  with  strong  theatrical 
incliniugs.  The  consequence  was,  that  after  a  brief  conversation  with 
the  lively  little  lionness,  the  younger  people  clustered  together  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  drawing-room,  listening  to  stories,  or  in  talk  over 
plays,  that  descended  from  Shakespeare  to  the  "  Italian  Lover ;  "  when, 
all  at  once,  long  before  her  accustomed  hour,  Mrs.  Piozzi  started  up, 
and  coldly  wishing  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Twiss  good-night,  left  the  room.  In- 
quiring looks  passed  in  silence  and  surprise  from  one  to  another,  and 
in  an  undertone  our  hostess  observed,  "  She  is  very  much  displeased." 
I  then  learned  that,  accustomed  and  expecting  to  be  the  attraction  of 
the  evening  wherever  she  might  be  invited,  she  could  never  conceal 
her  chagrin  if  disappointed  in  receiving  the  homage  of  the  circle  she 
might  be  in.  Here  was  the  ruling  passion  cherished  to  a  degree  of 
weakness  that  excited  compassion  for  one  so  stricken  in  years,  to  whom 
unhappily  they  had  not  proved  the  "years  that  bring  the  philosophic 
mind."  In  recalling  to  my  memory  this  gifted  woman,  the  association 
of  her  name  with  that  of  poor  Con  way  forces  itself  on  my  recollection. 
His  admiration  of  her  talents  awakened  in  her  a  lively  interest  for  him, 
and  cemented  a  friendship  between  them,  which  was  variously  can- 
vassed by  the  many.  One  fact,  however,  is  to  be  remembered  to  his 
honor.  His  circumstances  were  much  straitened.  A  few  days  before 
her  death  she  sent  him  a  check  on  her  bankers  for  £500,  which  on 
her  decease  he  inclosed  to  her  heir  and  administrator,  from  whom  he 
received  a  cold  and  bare  acknowledgment. 

One  of  the  disadvantages  incident  to  the  pursuit  of  the  theatrical 
art  is  the  supposed  facility  of  its  attainment,  nor  is  it  less  cheapened 
in  public  estimation  by  the  general  assumption  of  the  ability  to  criti- 
cise it.  How  frequent,  to  questions  of  opinion  on  other  arts,  are  the 
evasive  answers,  "  I  am  no  judge  of  poetry  ; "  "I  have  never  studied 


1815.  "ROMEO   COATES."  81 

pictures  ;  "  "I  do  not  know  much  about  sculpture."  Yet  the  person 
confessedly  ignorant  on  these  subjects,  would  be  at  no  fault  in  pro- 
nouncing a  decisive  judgment  on 

"  The  youngest  of  the  sister  Arts, 
Where  all  their  beauty  blends  !  " 

It  is  Addison  who  describes  "  a  picture  "  as  "  a  poem  without  words." 
In  illustrating  the  poet's  thought,  the  actor  presents,  in  harmonious 
succession,  a  series  of  living  pictures,  in  which  his  intellectual  acute- 
ness  often  throws  light  on  what  might  otherwise  be  obscure,  whilst  his 
fervid  sensibility  compels  sympathy  with  the  passion  he  portrays.  But 
Campbell's  beautiful  lines  condense  all  that  more  diffuse  prose  would 
seek  to  express  on  that  theme  : 

"  For  ill  can  poetry  express 

Full  many  a  tone  of  thought  sublime ; 
And  Painting,  mute  and  motionless, 

Steals  but  a  glance  of  time. 
But  by  the  mighty  actor  brought, 

Illusion's  perfect  triumphs  come  ; 
Verse  ceases  to  be  airy  thought, 

And  sculpture  to  be  dumb." 

It  surely  needs  something  like  an  education  for  such  an  art,  and  yet 
that  appearance  of  mere  volition  and  perfect  ease,  which  costs  the 
accomplished  artist  so  much  time  and  toil  to  acquire,  evidently  leads 
to  a  different  conclusion  with  many,  or  amateur  acting  would  be  less 
in  vogue.  Among  those  I  have  seen,  the  only  amateurs  with  any  pre- 
tension to  theatrical  talent  were  Charles  Dickens,  of  world-wide  fame, 
and  the  lovely  representative  of  Mary  Copp,  in  the  "  Merry  Monarch," 
at  the  British  Embassy  at  Paris,  Miss  MacTavish,  the  niece  of  Lady 
Wellesley,  afterwards  married  to  the  Hon.  H.  Howard,  and  since  dead. 
One  of  the  very  worst,  if  not  the  worst,  who  owed  his  notoriety  chiefly 
to  his  frequent  exposure  of  himself  in  the  character  of  Romeo,  Lo- 
thario, Belcour,  etc.,  was  Coates,  more  generally  known  as  "  Romeo 
Coates."  He  drove  a  curricle  with  large  gilt  cocks  emblazoning  his 
harness,  and  on  the  stage  wore  diamond  buttons  on  his  coat  and  waist- 
coat. He  displayed  himself,  diamonds  and  all,  this  winter  at  Bath,  in 
the  part  of  the  West  Indian,  and  it  was  currently  believed  on  this 
occasion  he  was  liberally  paid  by  the  theater,  which  profited  largely 
by  his  preposterous  caricature.  I  was  at  the  theater  on  the  morning 
of  his  rehearsal,  and  introduced  to  him.  At  night  the  house  was  too 
crowded  to  afford  me  a  place  in  front;  and  seeing  me  behind  the 
scenes,  he  asked  me,  knowing  I  acted  Belcour,  to  prompt  him,  if  he 
should  be  "  out,"  which  he  very  much  feared.  The  audience  were  in 
convulsions  at  his  absurdities,  and  in  the  scene  with  Miss  Rusport, 
being  really  "  out,"  I  gave  him  a  line  which  Belcour  has  to  speak, 
"  I  never  looked  so  like  a  fool  in  all  my  life  ; "  which,  as  he  delivered 
it,  was  greeted  with  a  roar  of  laughter.  He  was  "  out  "  again,  and  I 
gave  him  again  the  same  line,  which  again  repeated,  was  acquiesced  in 
6 


82  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  VI. 

with  a  louder  roar.  Being  "  out "  again  I  administered  him.  the  third 
time  the  same  truth  for  him  to  utter,  but  he  seemed  alive  to  its  appli- 
cation, rejoining,  in  some  dudgeon,  "  I  have  said  that  twice  already." 
His  exhibition  was  a  complete  burlesque  of  the  comedy,  and  a  reflec- 
tion on  the  character  of  a  management  that  could  proiit  by  such  dis- 
creditable expedients. 

The  success  of  my  last  year's  engagement  in  Dublin  induced  the 
manager  there  to  propose  some  terms  for  a  longer  period,  thirteen 
weeks,  which  I  could  not  expect  to  be  on  the  same  footing  as  before, 
but  which  were  to  amount  to  not  less  than  £20  per  week,  a  remunera- 
tion that  I  considered  very  liberal.  But  before  my  departure  from 
Bath  I  had  several  of  my  characters  to  repeat,  among  which  were 
Doricourt,  and  Don  Felix  in  the  "  Wonder."  Mrs.  Alsop,  the 
daughter  of  Mrs.  Jordan,  acted  Letitia  Hardy  and  Violante :  some 
tones  of  her  voice  recalled  for  an  instant  her  incomparable  mother, 
but  there  all  resemblance  ended.  The  theater  was  not  so  fashionable 
this  winter  as  the  previous  one,  but  that  did  not  cause  me  to  relax  in 
my  exertions,  and  indeed  I  was  sensible  of  considerable  improvement. 
My  performance  of  Romeo  was  an  advance  on  that  of  last  year,  and 
was  riveted  in  my  memory  by  a  little  poetical  tribute  published  in  the 
"  Bath  Herald,"  the  grace  and  feeling  of  which  will  justify  its  insertion 
here: 

"  When  Romeo's  anguish  speaking  in  thine  eye 
Prompts  the  deep  shudder  and  the  aching  sigh  ; 
When  the  rich  sweetness  of  thy  melting  tone 
Thrills  the  full  heart,  and  makes  thy  woes  our  own  ; 
When  Passion's  wild  convulsions  shake  thy  frame 
(The  expression  varying,  but  the  grace  the  same), 
Can  those,  by  Truth  and  Nature  taught  to  feel, 
Wake  the  loud  plaudit's  wildly  echoing  peal  ? 
Can  they  repress  the  luxury  of  woe, 
Or  check  in  shouts  the  tear's  impetuous  flow  ? 
No  ;  to  such  souls  thy  magic  powers  impart 
The  deep  emotions  of  a  breaking  heart : 
When  Love  retains  awhile  the  fleeting  breath, 
And  Passion  struggles  with  the  pangs  of  Death, 
When  mortal  weakness  strives  in  vain  to  tell 
The  grief  and  fondness  of  a  last  farewell, 
The  praise  of  art  by  Man's  applause  be  shown, 
While  gentler  Woman  gives  thee  tears  alone." 

My  benefits  at  Bath  and  Bristol  closed  my  engagements  in  those 
theaters.  At  Bath  I  acted  for  the  first  time  Leontes  in  the  "  Winter's 
Tale,"  in  which  character  I  produced  in  later  years  a  very  strong  im- 
pression. My  days  had  been  very  agreeably  passed  in  these  Bath  en- 
gagements, for  most  of  my  idle  ones  were  days  of  pleasure,  to  which 
the  residence  of  my  old  friend  and  master  Dr.  Wooll,  who  came  to 
spend  his  Christmas  holidays  here,  did  not  a  little  contribute.  He  was 
widely  known  and  none  more  frequently  "  on  hospitable  thoughts  in- 
tent "  than  himself.  The  principal  proprietor  of  the  theater  was  Mr. 
Palmer,  the  originator  of  the  mail-coach  service,  by  whom  the  entire 


1816.  GARRICK  JUBILEE  AT  HEREFORD.  83 

system  of  the  Post  Office  had  been  revolutionized  and  the  delivery  of 
letters  wonderfully  accelerated.  If  I  do  not  mistake  he  sat  for  Bath 
in  Parliament  several  sessions,  and  was  succeeded  in  the  representation 
of  the  city  by  his  son,  General  Palmer.  He  expressed  the  wish  to 
make  my  acquaintance,  and  on  visiting  him  I  was  received  with  great 
kindness.  His  manners  were  courtly  and  engaging,  and,  as  a  play-goer 
in  Garrick's  time,  his  confident  predictions  of  my  future  success  were 
to  me  something  more  than  mere  idle  compliment.  Lord  Gwydir  was 
another  acquaintance  whose  stately  though  affected  address  might  prob- 
ably have  escaped  my  memory,  but  for  a  defense  against  cold  recom- 
mended to  me  by  him,  to  which  through  my  long  life  I  have  been 
constantly  indebted,  and  by  which  under  east  winds  or  in  cold  weather 
I  never  fail  even  now  to  protect  myself.  This  is  simply  two  or  three 
sheets  of  paper  across  the  chest  buttoned  under  the  waistcoat,  forming 
a  cuirass,  impenetrable  by  Boreas,  Eurus,  or  any  of  the  malignant 
gales  that  drive  cough  and  too  often  consumption  into  the  lungs  of  the 
unwary.  This  simple  breastplate  will  on  the  coldest  day,  without  ex- 
tra upper  clothing,  diffuse,  under  exercise,  warmth  through  the  whole 
frame,  and  has  proved  to  me  one  of  the  most  valuable  recipes. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

1816.  —  Garrick  Jubilee  at  Hereford  —  Dublin  —  Farewell  performance  of  John 
Kemble,  in  Othello,  on  the  Dublin  stage  —  Lord  Townley  —  London  engage- 
ment at  Covent  Garden  made  for  five  years  —  Mr.  Plunkett  in  Richard  HI.  — 
Performing  at  Wexford  and  Galway — Tour  in  North  Wales  —  Suowdon  — 
Meeting  with  brother  at  Liverpool. 

To  Dublin,  where  was  my  next  engagement,  my  route,  in  compli- 
ance with  the  earnest  prayer  of  Mr.  Crisp,  the  manager  of  the  theater, 
was  made  through  Hereford.  He  had  got  up  a  local  excitement  upon 
what  he  called  a  "  Garrick  Jubilee,"  being  a  public  dinner  at  the  prin- 
cipal hotel,  and  in  the  evening  a  performance  at  the  theater  in  honor 
of  the  day,  the  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  great  actor's  birth. 
David  Garrick  was  born  on  the  20th  of  February,  1716,  at  the  Angel 
Inn,  in  Hereford.  The  theatrical  portion  of  the  celebration  consisted 
of  the  representation  of  the  "Wonder,"  the  play  in  which  Garrick 
took  leave  of  the  stage,  the  recitation  of  Sheridan's  monody  on  his 
death,  and  Garrick's  farce  of  "  The  Lying  Valet."  I  heard  none  of 
the  speeches  at  the  dinner,  rising  with  the  removal  of  the  cloth,  in 
order  to  prepare  for  my  performance  of  Don  Felix.  My  long  ex- 
perience of  the  stage  has  convinced  me  of  the  necessity  of  keeping,  on 
the  day  of  exhibition,  the  mind  as  intent  as  possible  on  the  subject  of 
the  actor's  portraiture,  even  to  the  very  moment  of  his  entrance  on  the 
scene.  He  meditates  himself,  as  it  were,  into  the  very  thought  and 
feeling  of  the  being  he  is  about  to  represent :  enwrapt  in  the  idea  of 


84  M  \CREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  VII. 

the  personage  lie  assumes,  he  moves,  and  looks,  and  bears  himself  as 
the  Roman  or  the  Dane,  and  thus  almost  identifies  himself  with  the 
creature  of  his  imagination.  It  is  not  difficult  to  produce  individual 
effects  ad  libitum,  which  will  of  course  have  their  full  estimation  with 
the  run  of  audiences  ;  but  I  cannot  conceive  the  representation  of 
character  without  this  preliminary  preparation,  or  some  such  mental 
process.  The  theater  was  crowded,  the  play  much  applauded  ;  tin- 
manager's  pockets  were  filled,  and  his  Jubilee  was  a  success.  He  was 
much  obliged  to  me,  and  the  next  morning  I  was  on  my  road  to 
Dublin. 

I  reached  my  destination  some  days  before  my  engagement  began, 
and  without  delay  settled  myself  in  comfortable  quarters  in  Suffolk 
Street,  where  I  had  a  spacious  drawing-room  and  good  bedroom  at  a 
moderate  rent ;  being  "  done  for,"  in  lodging-house  phraseology,  by 
my  landlady,  Mrs.  Rock.  My  early  arrival  enabled  me  to  be  a  witness 
of  the  farewell  performance  of  John  Philip  Kemble  on  the  Dublin 
stage  ;  an  opportunity  I  could  not  be  expected  to  neglect.  It  may 
indeed  be  readily  supposed  that  I  went  to  find  a  seat  in  the  theater  on 
that  evening  under  the  agitation  of  no  common  curiosity.  The  audi- 
ence was  not  what  I  had  anticipated  on  the  occasion.  In  theatrical 
parlance,  it  was  what  would  be  termed  "  respectable,"  but  not  numer- 
ous. The  house  was  about  half  filled,  and  I  obtained  a  very  con- 
venient place  in  the  first  circle  of  boxes.  I  should  with  difficulty  have 
believed,  if  told,  that  such  would  be  the  case  on  the  announcement  of 
the  last  appearance  "previous  to  his  final  retirement"  of  so  distin- 
guished an  actor ;  but  here  was  an  instance  of  the  caprice  of  public 
favor.  In  former  visits  to  Dublin  Kemble  had  been  greatly  followed. 
In  this  engagement,  his  last,  the  theater  was  indifferently  attended. 
The  popularity  of  Kean,  who  had  in  the  preceding  summer  acted  for 
several  weeks  to  overflowing  houses,  may  have  served  to  have  ex- 
hausted enthusiasm  and  to  have  cast  into  shade  the  past  glories  of 
Kemble's  triumphs  here,  exemplifying  the  truth  of  Shakespeare's 
lines : 

"  For  time  is  like  a  fashionable  host, 

That  slightly  shakes  his  parting  guest  by  the  hand  ; 

And  with  his  arms  outstretched,  as  he  would  fly, 

Grasps  in  the  comer." 

Whatever  the  cause,  the  fact  is  as  I  record  it.  An  apathy  pervaded 
the  play-going  world  and  the  manager's  calculations  were  disappointed, 
and,  in  the  hope  of  rousing  the  public  from  the  torpor  that  appeared 
to  possess  them,  Kemble  bad  consented  to  reappear  in  characters 
which  he  had  long  since  relinquished  and  which  were  among  the  chefs- 
d'oeuvre  of  Kean.  From  the  time  of  Cooke's  acknowledged  supremacy 
in  "  Richard  the  Third,"  Kemble  had  given  up  the  part :  in  now  re- 
suming it,  he  had  only  provoked  unwilling  and  humiliating  compari- 
sons ;  and  in  selecting  for  his  benefit  and  last  performance  the  charac- 
ter of  Othello,  which  had  never  ranked  among  his  more  finished  efforts, 
he  again  placed  himself  at  disadvantage  with  Kean,  whose  "fiery 


1816.  KEMBLE'S  FAREWELL  IN  DUBLIN.  85 

quality  "  in  his  splendid  personation  of  the  Moor  was  fresh  in  the 
memories  of  all.  Like  a  diligent  scholar,  I  took  my  place  early,  not 
to  lose  one  look  or  word  of  this  important  lesson.  lago,  Brabantio, 
and  Roderigo,  followed  the  traditional  directions  through  the  opening 
scene,  and  when  it  changed,  the  majestic  figure  of  John  Kemble  in 
Moorish  costume  "  with  a  slow  and  stately  step  "  advanced  from  the 
side  wing.  A  more  august  presence  could  scarcely  be  imagined.  His 
darkened  complexion  detracted  but  little  from  the  stern  beauty  of  his 
commanding  features,  and  the  enfolding  drapery  of  his  Moorish  mantle 
hung  gracefully  on  his  erect  and  noble  form.  The  silent  picture  he 
presented  compelled  admiration.  The  spectators  applauded  loudly 
and  heartily,  but  the  slight  bow  with  which  he  acknowledged  the  com- 
pliment spoke  rather  dissatisfaction  at  the  occasional  vacant  spaces 
before  him  than  recognition  of  the  respectful  feeling  manifested  by 
those  present.  I  must  suppose  he  was  out  of  humor,  for,  to  my  ex- 
ceeding regret,  he  literally  walked  through  the  play. 

My  attention  was  riveted  upon  him  through  the  night  in  hope  of 
some  start  of  energy,  some  burst  of  passion,  lighting  up  the  dreary 
dullness  of  his  cold  recitation,  but  all  was  one  gloomy  unbroken  level 
—  actually  not  better  than  a  school  repetition.  In  the  line,  "  Not  a 
jot !  not  a  jot ! "  there  was  a  tearful  tremor  upon  his  voice  that  had 
pathos  in  it :  with  that  one  exception  not  a  single  passage  was  uttered 
that  excited  the  audience  to  sympathy,  or  that  gave  evidence  of  artistic 
power.  His  voice  was  monotonously  husky,  and  every  word  was  enun- 
ciated with  labored  distinctness.  His  readings  were  faultless  ;  but 
there  was  no  spark  of  feeling,  that  could  enable  us  to  get  a  glimpse 
of  the  "  constant,  loving,  noble  nature"  of  Othello,  of  him  who, 

"  Perplexed  in  the  extreme,  .... 
Dropt  tears  as  fast  as  the  Arabian  trees 
Their  medicinal  gum," 

The  play  went  through  without  one  round  of  applause.  There  was 
not  "  the  noble  Moor,  whom  the  full  senate  called  all  in  all  sufficient," 
but  John  Kemble,  apparently  with  stoical  indifference,  repeating  the 
correct  text  of  "  the  words  that  burn  : "  of  that  passion,  of  that  sub- 
lime conception,  there  was  no  spark  of  feeling.  The  curtain  fell  in 
silence,  and  I  left  the  theater  with  the  conviction  that  I  had  not  yet 
seen  Kemble,  and  that  I  must  look  forward  to  other  opportunities  to 
form  a  judgment  of  his  powers.  I  heard  afterwards  that  his  health 
had  suffered  during  his  stay  in  Dublin,  which  may  in  part  account  for 
his  falling  so  much  beneath  himself. 

My  long  engagement  here  was  ushered  in  with  the  character  which 
had  made  so  successful  an  impression  at  Bath  and  Bristol,  Mentevole 
in  the  "  Italian  Lover,"  which  elicited  applause,  but  did  not  draw 
houses.  My  days  were  occupied  with  study,  and  by  a  very  ascetic 
regimen  my  care  was  "  to  increase  nay  store,"  a  duty  to  which  I  had 
not  been  heretofore  sufficiently  attentive.  The  only  part  I  added  to 
my  list  was  that  of  Lord  Townley  in  "The  Provoked  Husband," 


86  MAC  READY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  VII. 

which  I  have  no  doubt  was  a  very  crude  essay,  but  one  on  which  I 
very  much  improved  in  later  years.  The  list  of  my  plays  was,  how- 
ever, diversified  by  the  production  of  an  original  comedy  called 
"  Changes  and  Chances,"  written  by  a  retired  officer  of  the  name  of 
MacNeil ;  in  which  I  acted  the  part  of  Edward  Gregory,  a  young 
castaway.  The  piece  was  not  without  merit,  and,  supported  by  the 
author's  friends,  was  acted  several  nights  to  good  houses,  but  was  de- 
clined by  the  London  managers,  with  whom  I  used  what  interest  I  had 
for  its  acceptance.  My  negotiation  with  them  for  a  given  number  of 
years  at  Covent  Garden  had  been  resumed,  and  was  now  in  regular 
train.  Well  do  I  remember  the  fretful  uneasiness  and  misgiving  with 
which  I  received  and  replied  to  each  letter.  A  London  engagement, 
the  crowning  object  of  every  player's  ambition,  was  to  me,  in  its  uncer- 
tain issue,  a  frial  that  I  shrank  from,  and  which  I  would  certainly 
have  deferred  if  by  opportunity  of  practice  elsewhere,  for  instance  at 
Edinburgh,  Liverpool,  Norwich,  York,  etc.,  I  could  have  maintained  my 
income  and  have  further  matured  my  powers.  The  hazard  was  great. 
The  cast  must  be  a  decisive  one  :  one  on  which  my  life's  future  must  de- 
pend, and  in  which  the  great  talents  of  those  already  in  secure  posses- 
sion of  the  public  favor  seemed  to  leave  me  little  room  for  success. 
But  no  alternative  presented  itself:  the  irrevocable  step  must  needs 
be  taken  ;  and  all  that  remained  was  to  fortify  myself  against  adverse 
chances  as  best  I  could,  by  identifying  to  the  utmost  possible  extent 
the  proprietor's  interests  with  my  own.  In  reply  therefore  to  Mr. 
Fawcett's  overture,  I  required  a  contract  for  five  years  at  the  rate  of 
£16  per  week  for  two  years,  £17  for  two  years,  and  £18  for  one 
year,  which  was  immediately  acceded  to  by  Mr.  Harris.  The  corre- 
spondence was,  however,  prolonged  by  stipulations  I  desired  to  make 
in  reference  to  my  veto  on  characters  I  might  consider  derogatory  ; 
but  the  arguments  of  the  Covent  Garden  managers  satisfied  me  of  the 
unreasonableness  of  such  clauses.  The  agreement  was  concluded,  and 
I  was  pledged  to  appear  at  Covent  Garden  the  following  September. 

Before  I  left  Dublin  an  announcement  appeared  in  the  play-bills  of 
"  Shakespeare's  Historical  Play  of  '  King  Richard  III.'  The  Duke  of 
Gloster,  by  Mr.  Plunkett,  of  this  city,  who  comes  before  the  public  for 
the  purpose  of  giving  him  a  claim  at  a  future  period  for  a  benefit  in 
order  to  relieve  the  distressed  poor  of  Dublin  and  its  vicinity."  The 
city  was  all  alive  with  the  promise  of  "  fun  "  which  this  notification 
held  out.  Mr.  Plunkett  was  a  gentleman,  a  barrister  of  the  Four 
Courts  without  practice,  and  nearly  related  to  Lord  Fingall ;  but  was 
said  to  have  —  what  the  Scotch  call  —  "a  bee  in  his  bonnet."  Unlike 
his  vulgar  contemporary  Coates,  his  motives  were  disinterested  and 
amiable,  and  his  sacrifices  in  behalf  of  charity  would  have  been  with- 
out parallel  could  he  but  have  known  how  superlatively  ridiculous  were 
his  efforts  in  its  cause.  The  audience  that  crowded  the  theater  were 
in  fits  of  laughter  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  the  wags  in  pit  and 
gallery  taking  part  in  the  dialogue.  When  he  said  in  Gloster's  solilo- 
quy, '*  Why,  I  can  smile,  and  murder  while  I  smile,"  the  response 


1816.  A   CHIEF  JUSTICE'S  OPINION.  87 

from  the  pit  was,  "  Oh  !  by  the  powers,  you  can  !  "  To  his  question, 
"  Am  I  then  a  man  to  be  beloved  ?  "  voices  answered,  '*  Indeed,  then, 
you  are  not !  "  At  u  Off  with  his  head  ! "  the  encore  was  long  con- 
tinued, and  at  the  death  the  shouts  of  laughter  and  ironical  "  bravos  " 
drowned  the  remainder  of  the  tragedy  ;  but  so  satisfied  was  he  of  his 
triumphant  success,  that  the  next  morning  he  called  on  the  Lord  Chief 
Justice  Bushe  to  learn  his  opinion,  and  understanding  that  he  had 
been  unable  to  visit  the  theater,  Plunkett  begged  leave  to  act  some  of 
Richard's  speeches  before  him,  which,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  the 
Chief  Justice,  who  feared  the  gathering  of  a  mob  about  the  windows, 
he  did,  and  pressed  the  venerable  judge  for  his  verdict.  The  Chief 
Justice  had  no  escape  but  in  assuring  him  that  "  he  had  never  seen 
anything  like  it  in  all  the  performances  he  had  ever  witnessed ; " 
which  sentence,  as  that  of  the  Chief  Justice,  Plunkett  sent  to  the 
papers  the  next  day.  He  was  too  estimable  and  kind-hearted  a  man 
not  to  excite  regret  in  many  that  he  should  have  been  under  such  a 
delusion  in  respect  to  his  theatrical  powers. 

My  correspondence  with  my  brother,  who  was  then  with  his  regi- 
ment at  Limerick,  had  been  very  regular,  and  learning  from  it  that 
the  allowance  he  had  expected  from  my  father  was  discontinued,  I  was 
able  from  my  savings  to  remit  him  the  amount  of  the  balance  against 
him  at  his  agent's,  and  what  was  requisite  for  his  journey  home ; 
whither,  after  staying  a  few  days  with  me  in  Dublin,  he  proceeded  to 
spend  the  term  of  his  leave  of  absence.  The  play  of  "  Pizarro,"  se- 
lected for  my  benefit,  in  which  I  acted  Holla,  wound  up  my  engage- 
ment, and,  putting  me  in  cash,  gave  me  the  means  of  discharging  the 
arrest  of  an  uncle,  —  one  of  those  that,  in  the  Irish  description  of 
character,  "  would  break  into  prison."  I  might  as  well  have  saved  the 
money,  as  he  was  soon  again  in  a  similar  plight,  and  made  me  a  very 
scurvy  return  for  my  respect  to  our  consanguinity. 

The  interval  between  the  end  of  June  and  the  beginning  of  Sep- 
tember was  not  without  its  labors  and  its  anxiety.  But  the  latter,  in 
its  pressure  on  my  spirits,  overweighed  by  far  the  effect  of  any  active 
duty,  from  the  difficulty  that  arose  in  deciding  on  the  play  that  was  to 
determine  my  fate  before  a  London  public.  The  letters  that  passed 
resulted  in  no  conclusion.  The  Covent  Garden  managers  were  under 
apprehension  of  organized  opposition  to  any  one  appearing  in  Kean's 
characters,  which  disposed  at  once  of  Luke,  my  first  suggestion  ;  Bel- 
cour,  to  which  I  was  partial,  was  objected  to  on  other  grounds  ;  and 
the  ultimate  resource  appeared  to  be  Orestes,  although  with  two  hero- 
ines, Hermione  and  Andromache,  in  the  tragedy,  there  was  no  actress 
in  the  theater  equal  to  one,  —  Miss  O'Neill's  return  not  being  ex- 
pected till  later  in  the  season.  But  the  final  decision  was  reserved 
until  the  subject  could  be  discussed  in  a  personal  conference.  In  the 
mean  time  two  engagements  at  Wexford  and  Galway  were  of  service 
to  me  in  the  way  of  practice  and  profit,  though  the  company  with 
which  I  acted  in  those  towns,  under  the  management  of  Mr.  Clarke, 
was  one  that  would,  I  regret  to  say,  have  justified  the  severities  of 


88  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  VIL 

Churchill  and  of  Crabbe.  To  meet  the  scanty  resources  of  the  troop 
it  was  necessary  to  prepare  myself  in  Octavian  in  Colman's  play  of 
"  The  Mountaineers,"  and  in  Bertram  in  Maturin's  tragedy  of  that 
name,  neither  of  which  characters  remained  very  long  upon  my  list. 
But  my  mind  was  engrossed  with  the  eventful  trial  to  which  every  day 
brought  me  nearer,  and,  leaving  Galway  in  the  latter  part  of  August, 
I  sought  to  enjoy  in  the  diversion  of  my  thoughts  a  few  days  of  trui- 
quilizing  relaxation  amongst  the  romantic  and  beautiful  scenery  of 
North  Wales. 

It  was  a  rest  to  the  wearing  and  depressing  musings,  from  which  I 
could  not  otherwise  have,  escaped,  to  wander  alone  among  the  ruins 
of  Conway  Castle,  or  along  the  river  banks  by  the  lovely  village  of 
Llanrwst,  to  linger  by  the  tumbling  waters  of  the  Llugwy  and  coast 
the  southern  side  of  Snowdon,  which,  as  the  Cambrian  Parnassus,  I 
had  a  kind  of  superstitious  longing  to  look  upon.  My  first  view  of 
the  mountain  was  under  circumstances  so  peculiar  as  to  impress  them 
through  after  life  upon  the  memory.  My  route  lay  through  Capel 
Curig  to  Beddgelert.  The  day  was  most  unpropitious  to  the  tourist,  a 
heavy  white  mist  enveloping  the  landscape,  and  completely  overlying 
the  prospect  beyond  a  few  yards  from  the  wheel  tracks.  My  disap- 
pointment amounted  to  vexation,  and  after  vainly  straining  my  eyes 
to  discover  anything  through  the  impenetrable  fog,  I  lay  back  in  the 
chaise  chafing  at  the  mischance  that  baffled  the  main  purpose  of  my 
morning's  ride ;  but  as  I  lay  vacantly  gazing  on  the  blank  mist  that 
surrounded  me,  I  was  startled  by  the  appearance  of  what  seemed  two 
dark  pyramidical  masses  almost  over  my  head,  looking  like  two 
Laputas  floating  in  the  sky.  I  called  out  abruptly  to  the  postilion, 
pointing  to  the  strange  phenomenon,  with  the  inquiry,  "  What  are 
those  objects  ?  "  His  answer  was  quick  and  short,  "  Snowdon,  sir  :  " 
and  to  my  surprise  and  delight  there  indeed  were  the  two  distinct 
peaks  of  that  noble  mountain,  rising  out  of  the  sea  of  clouds,  and  tow- 
ering above  them  into  the  sunlight,  recalling  the  picture  of  Gold- 
smith's cliffs : 

"  Though  round  its  breast  the  rolling  clouds  are  spread, 
Eternal  sunshine  settles  on  its  head." 

Finding  on  reaching  Beddgelert  that  my  time  would  not  serve  me 
to  ascend  the  mountain,  I  pressed  on  to  Caernarvon,  where  of  course 
every  nook  and  corner  of  the  magnificent  castle  was  peered  into.  My 
after-dinner's  walk  was  to  the  site  of  the  Roman  city  Segontium,  and 
on  my  way  I  was  greatly  delighted  to  come  upon  a  small  Druidical 
circle  within  an  inclosure  on  one  side  of  the  road.  My  ramble  de- 
tained me  long;  and  calling  at  the  post-office  on  my  return,  I  found  a 
letter  from  my  brother,  dated  Carlisle,  informing  me  that  he  should 
be  at  Liverpool  the  next  day,  on  his  way  to  join  his  regiment  at  Lim- 
erick. There  was  no  time  for  hesitation  ;  it  might  be  very  long  be- 
fore the  chance  of  meeting  would  again  present  itself,  and  in  my  pres- 
ent state  of  mind,  with  a  perilous  hazard  before  me,  it  would  be  a 


1816.  MEETING   WITH  BROTHER.  89 

solace  to  my  spirits  to  pass  a  few  hours  with  one  so  bound  in  affection 
to  me.  I  directly  ordered  a  chaise  and  pair,  and  set  oat  by  way  of 
Bangor  and  Conway,  through  Chester,  to  Woodside  .Ferry,  which,  by 
traveling  all  night,  I  reached  in  good  time  the  next  morning.  A 
very  comfortable  inn,  the  Ferry  House,  furnished  me  with  all  the 
•  means  of  refreshment,  and  a  pleasant  breeze  carried  me  very  quickly 
across  the  river  to  Liverpool.  The  '"  Liverpool  Arms "  in  Castle 
Street  was  then  the  principal  hotel,  now  remembered,  I  dare  say,  by 
few.  Having  engaged  rooms  there,  I  sent  round  to  every  inn  in  the 
town,  and  called  myself  at  several,  inquiring  for  Lieutenant  Macready. 
Nothing  could  be  heard  of  such  a  person,  and  I  was  forced  to  conclude 
that  he  had  sailed  in  the  Dublin  packet  the  evening  before. 

With  no  acquaintance  near  me,  having  neither  occupation  nor 
amusement,  I  went  in  the  evening  to  the  theater,  for  the  chance  of 
what  might  be  acted.  Even  from  an  inferior  stage  there  may  be 
"  much  matter  to  be  heard  and  learned "  by  a  thoughtful  observer. 
The  opera  or  melodrama  of  "  Guy  Mannering  "  was  played  there  for 
the  first  time,  Emery  appearing  in,  and  realizing,  the  character  of 
Dandie  Dinmont.  I  had  riot  then  read  the  novel,  and  the  story,  as 
put  upon  the  stage,  is  not  one  of  the  clearest.  It  was  therefore  in 
rather  a  listless  and  indifferent  mood  I  watched  its  progress,  dividing 
my  attention  between  the  actors  and  the  audience,  when,  to  my  sur- 
prise and  great  delight,  three  or  four  boxes  off  I  saw  my  brother.  I 
did  not  wait  for  the  box-keeper's  key,  but,  somewhat  indecorously  I 
must  confess,  clambered  over  the  intervening  partitions  to  shake  hands 
with  him,  which  I  did  in  a  tumult  of  joy  that  attracted  more  observa- 
tion than  I  desired.  We  sat  out  the  piece  together,  to  which  however 
the  mutual  information  we  had  to  give  allowed  us  to  pay  little  atten- 
tion. Pie  spent  a  couple  of  days  with  me  at  the  hotel,  long  after  re- 
membered as  very  pleasant  ones,  in  the  enjoyment  of  which  the  uneasy 
thoughts  that  had  of  late  beset  me  on  the  uncertainty  of  the  fate  in 
store  for  me  had  been  shut  out  from  my  mind ;  but  ou  parting  with 
him  I  relapsed  into  my  doubtful  musings.  He  sailed  in  the  evening 
packet  for  Dublin,  and  the  next  morning  I  took  the  coach  for  London. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

1816. — Risks  and  advantages  of  a  London  engagement  —  First  appearance  at 
Covent  Garden  as  Orestes,  16th  September,  1816  —  Contemporary  criticism  — 
"  Times  "  —  "  Globe  "  —  Hazlitt  —  Remarks  on  personal  appearance  —  Mente- 
vole —  Othello  —  lago  —  Position  and  prospect  on  the  London  stage. 

IT  would  be  supposed  that  to  a  provincial  player  the  prospect  of  a 
metropolitan  engagement  should  be  rather  a  cause  of  exultation  than 
depression  ;  and  with  most  no  doubt  it  would.  To  the  generality,  with 
little  or  nothing  to  lose  even  in  failure,  success  would  bring,  in  respect 


90  MACBEADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  VIII. 

to  salary  and  social  position,  desirable  and  important  changes.  In  such 
u  haxard  there  is  no  drawback :  nothing  to  disturb  or  chill  the  hopeful 
spirit  that  impels  the  young  enthusiast.  All  is  on  the  side  of  daring. 
To  him  the  enterprise  presents  but  two  points,  as  in  "  the  adventure 
of  the  diver :  one  when,  a  beggar,  he  prepares  to  plunge  ;  one  when, 
a  prince,  he  rises  with  his  pearl !  "  But  to  me  the  country  theaters  had 
already  yielded  an  income  exceeding  that  on  which  I  was  to  tempt  my 
fortune  in  London,  with  professional  reputation  pretty  widely  extended. 
In  aiming  therefore  at  a  doubtful  triumph  I  seemed  to  jeopard  advan- 
tages already  secured  —  preparing  for  the  eventful  struggle  in  a  field 
where  all  the  vantage-ground  was  already  and  strongly  occupied.  Still 
the  decision  was  not  rashly  made,  nor  without  balancing  the  reasons 
on  either  side.  Most  of  the  respectable  country  managers  would  rec- 
ognize as  "  auxiliaries  "  or  "  stars  "  (the  greenroom  title  given  to  oc- 
casional professional  visitors  like  myself)  those  actors  only  who  had 
the  London  stamp  ;  and  this  exclusive  rule  so  limited  my  sphere  of 
action  that,  both  in  respect  to  income  and  practice,  I  must  by  remain- 
ing in  the  country  have  sunk  considerably  below  my  previous  average. 
The  plunge  must  therefore  be  taken,  and  under  that  necessity  my  mind 
was  made  up,  whatever  might  befall,  to  do  my  very  best,  though  unable 
to  overcome  my  diffidence  of  the  result  as  I  reviewed  the  difficulties  of 
my  position. 

Arrived  in  London,  and  temporarily  quartered  at  my  former  hotel, 
the  old  Slaughter  Coffee  House,  I  lost  no  time  in  presenting  myself 
to  the  Covent  Garden  managers.  Mr.  Henry  Harris,  Reynolds,  the 
dramatic  author,  reader,  and  adviser,  and  Fawcett  formed  "  the  cabi- 
net" of  the  theater,  and  I  was  made  a  party  to  their  consultations  on 
the  still  perplexing  subject  of  my  opening  play.  They  had  a  heavy 
stake  in  their  venture  with  me,  and  were  in  a  proportionate  degree 
cautious  of  risking  comparisons  that  might  prove  detrimental  to  it  A 
club  much  talked  of  at  the  time,  that  bore  the  name  of  "  The  Wolves" 
was  said  to  be  banded  together  to  put  down  any  one  appearing  in 
Kean's  characters.  I  believed  the  report  not  to  have  been  founded  in 
strict  fact ;  but  it  was  currently  received,  and  had  its  influence  on  the 
Covent  Garden  deliberations.  Orestes  was  the  part  finally  resolved 
on,  as  least  likely  to  provoke  party  criticism  ;  Charles  Kemble  would 
be  all  that  could  be  desired  in  the  dignified  declamation  of  Pyrrhus, 
but  for  Hermione  and  Andromache,  two  first-rate  tragic  characters  — 
where  was  the  passion  and  pathos  to  give  effect  to  them,  and  how  to 
fill  them  ?  The  plea  of  necessity  at  length  bore  down  all  previous 
objections,  and  the  part  of  Hermione  was  cast  to  Mrs.  Egerton,  whose 
merits  were  confined  to  melodrama,  whilst  a  special  engagement  was 
made  with  Mrs.  Glover,  the  best  comic  actress  then  upon  the  stage,  to 
appear  as  the  weeping,  widowed  Andromache.  A  play  so  mounted  — 
to  borrow  the  French  expression  —  was  not  very  encouraging  in  the 
prospect  of  its  attracting ;  but  I  had  only  to  hold  steadily  to  my 
purpose,  and  "do  my  best."  Monday,  September  16th,  was  fixed  for 
my  appearance.  The  interim  was  employed  in  settling  myself  in 


1816.  FIRST  APPEARANCE  AT  COVENT  GARDEN.  91 

lodgings  at  64  Frith  Street,  Soho,  attending  rehearsals,  giving  direc- 
tions in  the  wardrobe  for  my  dress,  and  thinking  night  and  day  upon 
the  trial  that  was  before  me. 

With  most  of  us  the  course  of  life  is  uneven,  and  there  are  doubtless 
few  who  cannot  recall  periods  of  difficulty,  of  hazard  and  danger,  where 
it  was  needful  to  string  up  every  nerve  to  its  utmost  degree  of  tension 
in  striving  against  the  enfeebling  discouragement  of  doubt.  Several 
times  in  my  life  it  has  fallen  to  my  lot  to  encounter  a  crisis  of  this 
sort,  where  all  seemed  at  stake,  and  of  them  all  this  was  one  of  the 
most  formidable  ;  but  the  day  arrived,  and  the  venture  must  be  made. 
Unaccustomed  to  the  vast  size  of  these  large  theaters,  it  was  with  a 
feeling  like  dismay  that  I  entered  on  the  stage  ;  but  to  all  appearance 
I  managed  to  keep  under  control  the  flutter  of  my  spirits,  went  through 
my  rehearsal,  inspected  my  room,  and  gave  all  directions  necessary. 
Every  courtesy  was  shown  to  me,  and,  as  an  ordinary  civility  to  a 
debutant,  whatever  "  orders  "  or  free  admissions  I  might  wish  for  my 
friends  were  liberally  set  at  my  disposal  by  the  managers  ;  but  I  had 
then  no  friends,  not  even  an  acquaintance,  that  I  could  call  upon. 
After  my  early  dinner  I  lay  down,  endeavoring  to  compose  myself,  till 
the  hour  appointed  for  my  setting  out  to  the  theater.  The  hackney- 
coach  —  a  conveyance  happily,  in  the  advance  of  civilization,  "  mingled 
with  the  things  o'erpast "  —  was  called,  and  I  can  almost  fancy  in  rec- 
ollecting it  that  I  feel  every  disquieting  jolt  of  the  rumbling  vehicle  as 
it  slowly  performed  the  office  of  a  hurdle  in  conveying  me  to  the  place 
of  execution.  The  silent  process  of  dressing  was  only  interrupted  by 
the  call-boy  Parsloe's  voice, "  Overture  on,  sir !  "  which  sent  a  chill  to 
my  heart.  The  official  rap  at  the  door  soon  followed,  and  the  sum- 
mons, "  Mr.  Macready,"  made  me  instantly  rally  all  my  energies,  and 
with  a  firm  step  I  went  forward  to  my  trial.  But  the  appearance  of 
resolute  composure  assumed  by  the  player  at  this  turning-point  of  his 
life  belies  the  internal  struggles  he  endures.  These  eventful  trials,  in 
respect  to  the  state  of  mind  and  body  in  which  they  are  encountered, 
so  resemble  each  other  that  one  described  describes  all.  The  same 
agitation,  and  effort  to  master  it,  the  dazzled  vision,  the  short,  quick 
breath,  the  dry  palate,  the  throbbing  of  the  heart  —  all,  however  pain- 
fully felt,  must  be  effectually  disguised  in  the  character  the  actor 
strives  to  place  before  his  audience. 

Abbott,  as  Pylades,  was  waiting  for  me  at  the  side-scene,  and  when 
the  curtain  had  risen,  grasping  his  hand  almost  convulsively,  I  dashed 
upon  the  stage,  exclaiming,  as  in  a  transport  of  the  highest  joy,  "  Oh, 
Pylades !  what 's  life  without  a  friend  !  "  The  welcome  of  applause 
that  greeted  my  entrance  (always  so  liberally  bestowed  by  a  London 
public  on  every  new  performer)  was  all  I  could  have  desired ;  but  it 
was  not  until  the  loud  and  long  plaudits  following  the  vehement  burst 
of  passion  in  the  line,  "  Oh,  ye  Gods !  give  me  Hermione  or  let  me 
die !  "  that  I  gained  any  degree  of  self-possession.  As  the  play  pro- 
ceeded I  became  more  and  more  animated  under  the  conflicting  emo- 
tions of  the  distracted  lover,  and  at  the  close,  as  I  sank,  "  furiis  agitatus 


92  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  VI II. 

Orestes,"  into  the  arms  of  Pylades,  the  prolonged  cheers  of  my  audi- 
tors satisfied  me  of  my  success.  The  custom  of  "  calling  for "  the 
player  had  not  then  been  introduced  into  our  English  theaters  ;  but  it 
was  considered  a  sufficient  testimony  of  a  triumphant  issue  to  give  out 
the  play  for  repetition  on  the  Friday  and  Monday  following.  Con- 
gratulations were  profusely  tendered  me  by  the  various  members  of  the 
Covent  Garden  company,  who  stopped  me  in  passing  from  the  stage  to 
my  dressing-room ;  and  when  summoned  to  the  manager's  room,  Mr. 
Harris,  in  his  peculiar  way  observed,  "  Well,  my  boy,  you  have  done 
capitally  ;  and  if  you  could  carry  a  play  along  with  such  a  cast,  I  don't 
know  what  you  cannot  do  !  "  I  was  to  dine  with  him  the  next  day  to 
settle  further  proceedings,  and  I  returned  to  my  lodgings  in  a  state  of 
mind  like  one  not  fully  awake  from  a  disturbing  dream,  grateful  for 
my  escape,  yet  almost  questioning  the  reality  of  what  had  passed. 

In  the  attendance  of  that  evening  it  was  observed  that  the  members 
of  the  corps  dramatique  mustered  in  unusual  force,  among  whom 
Kean,  conspicuous  in  a  private  box,  was  very  liberal  of  his  ap- 
plause. Would  not  the  sleep  be  sweet  and  sound  after  such  a  termina- 
tion to  such  a  period  of  excitement  and  solicitude  ?  It  would  seem  so  : 
but  the  mind  is  not  yet  at  ease  :  the  fate  of  the  adventure  is  not  yet 
decided  ;  there  is  yet  wanting  the  confirmation  of  public  approval,  and 
many  an  hour  of  a  wakeful  night  is  spent  in  painful  uncertainty  of 
what  may  be  the  tone  of  the  morning  press  in  its  report  of  the  even- 
ing's performance.  With  feverish  impatience  I  awaited  the  arrival  of 
the  morning  paper.  However  persons  in  public  life  may  profess  in- 
difference to  the  manner  in  which  their  merits  may  be  canvassed  and 
registered  in  the  public  journals,  I  am  a  slseptic  to  the  affectation  of 
such  insensibility.  We  cannot  "  read  our  history  in  a  nation's  eyes," 
but  we  may  in  the  daily  papers.  Instances  may  no  doubt  be  adduced 
against  them,  on  rare  occasions,  of  prejudice  or  pique  ;  but  these  can- 
not outweigh  the  value  of  the  testimony  borne  by  the  body  of  the 
press,  conducted  as  it  is  for  the  most  part  by  men  of  character,  educa- 
tion, and  talent.  I  had  no  cause  to  be  dissatisfied  with  its  record  of 
the  verdict  in  my  case,  which,  with  differences  and  exceptions  on 
items,  was  laudatory  and  cheering  as  to  the  general  issue.  The  selec- 
tion of  the  play  was  very  generally  condemned.  The  "  Times,"  in  its 
first  judgment  on  me,  "  allowing  a  certain  amount  of  ability,  did  not 
conceive  it  was  sufficient  to  shake  Young,  or  much  to  intimidate  Charles 
Kemble.  Mr.  Macready's  last  scene  was  executed  with  great  vigor. 
He  is  not  handsome  in  face  or  person,  but  we  think  him  a  man  of 
clear  conception,  of  much  energy,  and  some  skill."  The  "  Globe  "  re- 
marked, "  Mr.  Macready  is  above  the  middle  size,  and  his  countenance 
is  pleasing ;  but  we  think  tragedy  requires  features  of  a  more  promi- 
nent and  strongly-marked  description  than  those  which  he  possesses. 
His  eyes  however  are  good,  and  full  of  fire;  and  when  in  the  par- 
oxysm of  passion  we  mark  their  wild  transitions,  our  attention  is 
entirely  withdrawn  from  the  flatness  of  the  features  they  irradiate. 
His  voice,  generally  speaking,  is  full  and  musical.  From  our  observa 


1816.  REMARKS   ON  PERSONAL  APPEARANCE.  93 

tion  of  his  performance  Mr.  Macready  is  a  man  of  mind.  In  this  play 
the  actor  must  do  everything,  for  the  author  has  done  nothing.  Mr. 
Macready  labored  hard  to  supply  the  deficiency,  and  the  sparks  of  his 
genius  frequently  kindled  to  a  blaze  the  chaff  of  Mr.  Phillips." 
Hazlitt,  in  the  "Examiner,"  at  that  time  an  authority  almost  supreme 
on  subjects  of  theatrical  taste,  joins  in  the  general  objection  to  the 
play  of  "  The  Distressed  Mother,"  in  which  "  though,"  he  observes, 
'•  a  bad  one  for  the  display  of  his  powers,  Mr.  Macready  succeeded  in 
making  a  decidedly  favorable  impression  on  the  audience."  "  We  have 
not  the  slighest  hesitation,"  he  continues,  "  in  saying  that  Mr.  Ma- 
cready is  by  far  the  best  tragic  actor  that  has  come  out  in  our  remem- 
brance, with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Kean." 

Many  compliments  were  paid  me  on  the  quality  and  compass  of  my 
voice ;  but  if  personal  vanity  —  from  which  not  even  deformity  and 
ugliness  are  exempt — had  been  among  my  flaws  of  character,  I  should 
have  writhed  under  the  report  so  wildly  promulgated  "  del  mio  brutto 
volto."  ,  Intimations  were  given  in  criticisms  the  most  favorable  that 
my  face  was  not  well  "  calculated  for  the  stage."  The  theatrical  arti- 
cle in  the  "  News  "  (a  journal  which,  after  Leigh  Hunt's  secession,  still 
retained  a  reputation  for  its  critical  notices)  began  its  review  in  these 
words  :  "  Mr.  Macready  is  the  plainest  and  most  awkwardly-made 
man  that  ever  trod  the  stage,  but  he  is  an  actor  whom  in  some  re- 
spects we  prefer  to  Mr.  Kean."  An  amusing  proof  of  the  persuasion 
so  widely  entertained  of  my  personal  disqualifications  was  afforded  me 
at  the  theater  one  evening  soon  after  my  debut.  A  man  and  woman 
were  seated  before  me  in  the  second  tier  of  boxes.  In  the  course  of 
their  conversation  the  lady*  inquired  of  her  companion  whether  he  had 
"  seen  the  new  actor."  "  What,  Macready  ?  "  he  replied  ;  "  No,  I  've 
not  seen  him  yet ;  I  am  told  he  is  a  capital  actor,  but  a  devilish  ugly 
fellow :  they  say  he  is  an  ugly  likeness  of  Listen !  "  My  equability 
was  not  at  all  disturbed  by  the  frankness  of  these  comments,  and  I 
dare  say  I  probably  did  not  think  myself  quite  so  bad  as  I  was  repre- 
sented. John  Kemble,  who,  in  addition  to  the  talents  he  possessed, 
owed  so  much  of  his  success  to  the  external  gifts  of  nature,  may  be 
expected  to  have  attached  vast  importance  to  them,  and  certainly  he 
seems  to  have  sided  with  the  informants  of  my  friend  of  the  second 
tier.  WThen  his  brother  Charles  one  day  stated  his  conviction  that  I 
should  attain  the  foremost  rank  in  the  profession,  John  Kemble,  who 
had  never  seen  me  act,  took  a  pinch  of  snuff,  and  with  a  significant 
smile  rejoined,  "  O  Charles !  con  quel  viso !  "  My  vanity  however 
was  not  assailable  on  this  point,  for  I  had  been,  I  am  glad  to  say, 
early  bullied  into  thinking  humbly  of  myself  in  regard  to  personal 
appearance.  I  remembered,  moreover,  that  Le  Kain,  Henderson, 
and  Talma,  in  attaining  the  highest  celebrity  in  their  art,  had  found 
the  plainness  of  their  features  no  obstruction  to  the  full  display  of 
those  emotions  which  the  deep  study  of  their  author  awakened,  and 
I  fortified  myself  by  their  example  with  the  hope  of  being  able  to  de- 
velop my  conceptions  with  vigor  and  distinctness,  and,  by  the  truth 


* 

94  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  VIII. 

and  earnestness  of  my  own  feelings,  to  insure  the  sympathy  of  my 
auditors. 

The  "  Italian  Lover,"  as  conflicting  with  no  popular  prepossession, 
was  fixed  upon  for  my  second  play,  though  with  scarce  a  hope  of  its 
attraction,  from  its  unbroken  gloom  and  the  inefficiency  of  its  cast, 
which  was  even  feebler  than  that  of  "  The  Distressed  Mother."  This 
dull  tragedy,  produced  Monday,  September  30th,  though  it  did  not 
benefit  the  receipts  of  the  theater,  rendered  good  service  to  me  indi- 
vidually, raising  me  still  higher  in  the  estimation  of  those  who  had 
judged  favorably  of  my  first  appearance,  and  winning  over  the  suf- 
frages of  many  who  had  been  disposed  to  dispute  my  claims  to  notice.1 

The  last  scene  of  Mentevole  was  often  quoted  by  old  play-goers  in 
after-years,  particularly  by  my  friend  Talfourd,  as  one  in  which  the 
feelings  of  the  audience  were  wound  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  inten- 
sity. But  the  applauses  lavished  on  an  unproductive  play,  however 
serviceable  to  my  reputation,  failed  of  course  to  satisfy  the  demands  of 
the  treasury,  and  in  an  impatient  mood  Mr.  Harris  announced  me  to 
appear  in  Othello  and  lago  alternately  with  Young.  This  was  a  des- 
perate move,  an  injudicious  one,  and  to  me  very  distressing,  as  I  had 
never  acted  or  studied  lago,  and  had  scarcely  reasonable  time  allowed 
to  master  even  the  words  of  the  part.  Alas  for  the  interests  of  art, 
when  its  difficulties  and  requirements  are  so  little  understood  !  Of 
my  Shakespearean  characters  Othello  was  one  I  had  least  frequently 
performed ;  but  remonstrance  was  useless :  I  had  to  buckle  myself  to 
my  task,  and  in  the  noble  Moor  I  gained  some  credit.  The  papers 
were  more  favorable  than  I  had  anticipated.2 

For  lago,  "  ce  maitre  acheve'  dans  1'art  de  la  dissimulation,"  he  who 
is  indeed  "  all  things  to  all  men,"  whose  perfect  accomplishment  in 
craft  might  "  send  the  learned  Machiavel  to  school "  —  for  that  con- 
summate deceiver  (that  in  after-years  I  made  one  of  my  most  finished 
personations)  I  was  altogether  unprepared,  and  must  have  given  a 
very  bald  and  commonplace  repetition  of  the  text ;  there  was,  in  fact, 
no  character  at  all  in  the  performance,  which  must  have  been  a  disap- 
pointment to  the  audience,  as  it  was  very  embarrassing  to  me.  Haz- 
litt's  criticism  upon  the  play  was  that  "  Young  in  Othello  was  like  a 

1  The  Times,  alluding  to  "  the  catastrophe  in  the  fifth  act,  which  produces  an 
effect  so  terrible  and  so  moving,"  speaks  of  me  "  as  a  various  and  skillful  painter 
of  the  human  passions.     The  last  act,  the  most  impassioned  in  the  plav,  was  the 
happiest  test  of  Mr.  Macready's  talents.     Sublety,  terror,  rage,  despair,  and  tri- 
umph were  successively  displayed  by  him  with  truth  and  energy,  and  he  retired 
amidst  loud  acclamations." 

2  The  Timet  on  Othello.  — "  It  must  have  effaced  every  trace  of  doubt  from 
those  who  witnessed  his  performance  with  regard  to  the  general  measure  of  his 
capacity  in  the  higher  walks  of  the  profession.    The  best  proof  of  this  actor's 
judgment,  independently  of  his  other  powers,  may  be  perceived  in  his  contempt 
of  all  those  gratuitous  decorations,  whether  of  tone  or  manner,  which  some  of  the 
most  eminent  cannot  consent  entirely  to  relinquish.     It  may  be  found  also  in  his 
practice  of  employing  all  his  force  in  those  passages  of  noiseless  but  intense  feeling, 
and  exhibiting  it  in  all  its  sublime  depths,  if  not  by  a  sudden  look  or  startling 
gesture,  yet  by  a  condensation  of  vigorous  utterance  and  masculine  expression, 
from  which  few  will  be  disposed  to  appeal." 


1816-17.  .HAZLITT'S  CRITICISM.  95 

great  humming-top,  and  Macready  in  lago  like  a  mischievous  boy 
whipping  him "  —  a  comparison  quite  as  complimentary,  I  have  no 
doubt,  as  my  imperfect  essay  deserved.1  After  the  long  lapse  of  years, 
witnessing  in  their  course  so  many  changes,  I  can  now  look  back  and 
collectedly  review  the  peculiarities  of  my  position. 

With  the  month  of  October  Miss  O'Neill  had  returned,  her  attraction 
undiminished  ;  John  Kemble  was  announced  for  his  last  season  ;  whilst 
Kean  at  Drury  Lane  was  performing  his  round  of  plays  to  well-filled 
houses,  Young  at  Covent  Garden  was  the  welcomed  representative  of 
the  leading  tragic  parts,  the  youthful  and  chivalrous  ones  having  been 
for  several  years  in  the  possession  of  Charles  Kemble.  Where  then 
was  a  place  for  me  ?  I  should  have  better  weighed  all  this  before ! 
It  now  became  apparent  I  had  made  my  venture  too  soon.  My  powers 
not  yet  sufficiently  matured  to  challenge  precedence,  nothing  was  left 
for  me  but  eagerly  to  watch  for,  and  to  the  utmost  improve,  every 
opportunity  that  might  present  itself.  The  possession  of  talent  was 
not  denied  to  me,  though  critics  were  always  not  in  agreement  on  its 
amount.  I  was  in  the  first  rank,  though  not  yet  the  first.  The  step 
had  however  been  taken,  and  was  irrevocable,  which  placed  me  on  a 
field  of  competition  under  unquestionably  signal  disadvantages,  to 
which  I  must  either  succumb,  and,  by  yielding  to  despondency,  dwin- 
dle into  "  respectability "  (as  in  theatrical  language  mediocrity  is 
usually  designated),  or  look  to  time  to  win  for  me,  by  dint  of  stren- 
uous and  unremitting  efforts,  the  public  acknowledgment  of  the  power 
I  felt  within  me.  My  motto  henceforward  must  be  from  Seneca  — 
"  Inveniet  viam,  aut  faciet."  2 


CHAPTER  IX. 

1816-1817.  —  Gambia  —  Miss  Stephens  —  Her  voice  and  acting  —  John  Kemble 
in  Cato  —  Kean's  Sir  Edward  Mortimer  in  "  The  Iron  Chest "  and  Oroonoko  — 
Booth's  appearance  as  Richard  III.  at  Covent  Garden  —  Attempted  rivalry  with 
Kean  —  Kean's  policy  with  him  —  Appears  as  lago  to  Kean's  Othello  at  Drury 
Lane  —  His  complete  discomfiture  —  Macready  acting  with  Booth  as  Valentio 
in  "  The  Conquest  of  Taranto  "  —  Booth's  retreat. 

AN  operatic  drama,  called  the  "  The  Slave,"  written  by  Morton, 
which  embraced  the  talents  of  Terry,  Emery,  Liston,  Jones,  Sinclair, 
Duruset,  Mrs.  Davenport,  and  the  charming  Miss  Stephens,  was  read 
in  the  greenroom ;  and  the  slave,  the  hero  of  the  piece,  Gambia,  one 
of  the  "  faultless  monsters,  that  the  world  ne'er  saw,"  was  confided  to 
me.  Placed  in  situations  of  strong  interest,  with  high-flown  senti- 
ments and  occasional  bursts  of  passion,  its  effect  was  unequivocal, 

1  The  Times  on  lago.  — "  Mr.  Macready  executed  the  part  of  lago  with  limited, 
and  but  limited,  success.     It  had  passages  of  great  and  superlative  merit ;  but, 
viewed  as  an  entire  piece  of  acting,  it  was  faulty,  unimpressive,  and,  as  we  have 
hinted,  erroneously  conceived  in  one  or  two  of  its  capital  features." 

2  "  Find  a  wav,  or  make  one." — ED. 


9G  MAC  READY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  IX. 

answering  the  fullest  expectations  of  the  management.  This  play, 
supported  by  first-rate  comic  acting,  Bishop's  music,  and  the  all-power- 
ful charm  of  Miss  Stephens's  voice,  conduced  much  to  my  advantage 
by  keeping  me  in  a  favorable  point  of  view  before  the  public  during  a 
prosperous  run  of  more  than  thirty  nights.1  Tt  was  in  one  of  the 
rehearsals  of  this  part  I  met  with  an  accident  that  might  have  been 
attended  with  much  graver  consequences.  To  secure  the  retreat  of 
Zelinda  and  Clifton,  who  were  escaping  from  their  pursuers,  I  had  to 
cut  away  a  wooden  bridge,  over  which  they  had  just  passed ;  in  its  fall 
a  rough  spar,  as  I  turned  round,  caught  in  my  coat-pocket,  and  dragged 
me  down  backwards  with  it  from  the  platform  on  which  I  was  stand- 
ing, a  distance  of  about  twelve  feet.  The  people  on  the  stage  made  an 
instant  outcry,  and  Miss  Stephens,  who  was  directly  opposite,  fainted 
away.  I  was  taken  up  considerably  hurt,  and  conveyed  to  my  lodg- 
ings, where  I  remained  on  the  sofa  several  days  attended  by  Wilson, 
at  that  time  one  of  the  most  eminent  surgeons  in  London.  This 
occurrence  retarded  the  production  of  the  play,  and  I  had  not  recov- 
ered from  my  lameness  when  obliged  to  appear  in  it. 

I  cannot  pass  the  name  of  Miss  Stephens,  universally  popular  as  it 
was,  without  notice.  Criticism  is  disarmed  before  it,  and  memory 
seems  to  take  pleasure  iu  lingering  over  it,  in  recalling  that  fasci- 
nating power  which,  through  the  blended  effects  of  person,  voice,  and 
manner,  she,  with  apparent  unconsciousness,  exercised  over  her  audi- 
ence. Every  performer  of  repute  had  his  or  her  particular  eulogists 
and  champions,  but  she  was  the  favorite  of  all.  The  distance  divid- 
ing the  spectator  from  the  player  whose  exertions  he  pays  for  seemed 
lessened  in  the  recognition  of  her,  for  it  was  with  a  joyous  eagerness 
that  the  frequenters  of  the  theater  used  to  welcome  her  as  she  nightly 
appeared  before  them.  "  Ce  petit  nez  retrousse  "  was  as  irresistible 
in  its  temporary  influence  over  an  assembled  multitude  as  Roxalane's 
over  the  imperious  Soliman.  Nor  was  this  due  to  .any  superiority 
of  dramatic  talent,  for  in  all  the  various  characters  allotted  to  her  she 
represented  only  one  :  but  the  magic  spell  of  that  was  never  known 
to  fail.  By  whatever  name  it  might  be  distinguished  in  the  play-bills, 
that  one  was  "  Miss  Stephens,"  or,  if  not  infringing  the  respect  claimed 
by  her  present  rank  (Countess  of  Essex),  it  would  express  more  ac- 
curately, the  feeling  she  inspired  to  use  that  familiar  abbreviation  of 
her  Christian  name  (Kitty  Stephens),  by  which,  in  the  fond  admira- 
tion of  the  public,  she  was  generally  known.  Her  voice  was  of  the 
most  exquisite  sweetness  and  extraordinary  compass ;  there  was  oc- 
casional archness  and  humor  in  her  comic  scenes  ;  always  intelligence  ; 
and,  combined  with  an  almost  rustic  or  childish  simplicity,  a  correct- 
ness of  judgment  that  never  deserted  her.  The  partiality  that  every- 

1  The  Times  on  "  The  Slave."  —  "Mr.  Macready  was  extremely  well  received. 
The  black  slave  was  no  bad  specimen  of  his  peculiar  talent,  which  seems  to  lie  in 
the  broad  and  boisterous  ostentation  of  tempestuous  passion,  for  which  he  has 
onlv  one  language,  nervous  certainly,  but  rather  monotonous ;  though  we  must 
do  him  the  justice  to  say  that  he  uttered  many  passages  in  the  play  with  extreme 
tenderness,  pathos,  and  delicacy." 


1816-17.  JOHN  KEMBLE  IN  "  CATO."  97 

where  attended  her  gave  truth  to  the  words  that  Carlos  in  his  beauti- 
ful song  addressed  to  her : 

"  For  friends  in  all  the  old  you  '11  meet, 
And  lovers  in  the  young." 

A  very  miserable  adaptation  by  Reynolds  of  Beaumont  and  Fletch- 
er's "  Humorous  Lieutenant,"  a  play  not  worth  revival,  in  which  Young, 
Terry,  Liston,  Miss  Stephens,  and  myself  had  parts,  was  produced 
January  18,  1817,  and  after  a  very  few  nights  withdrawn. 

I  now  began  to  settle  down  into  what  was  to  be  my  regular  course 
of  life.  In  the  reduction  of  the  army  which  had  taken  place,  the 
2d  battalion  of  the  30th  Regiment  was  disbanded,  and  my  brother 
being  put  in  consequence  on  half-pay,  took  up  his  quarters  with  me. 
I  had  the  good  fortune  besides  to  discover  other  relations  and  con- 
nections living  in  London,  or  rather  they  —  a  less  difficult  matter  — 
discovered  me,  which  gave  me  introduction  to  some  very  agreeable 
society.  It  is  from  the  depths  of  his  own  mind  the  artist  must  draw 
the  inspiration  that  is  to  lift  him  above  the  ordinary  level ;  but  to 
perfect  his  style  and  refine  his  taste  he  cannot  extend  too  far  his  ac- 
quaintance with  the  varieties  of  excellence  in  every  domain  of  art. 
Whilst  painting  and  sculpture  therefore  afforded  me,  in  subjects  of 
contemplation,  suggestions  of  grace  and  truth  of  expression,  the  the- 
ater presented  me  with  opportunities  of  comparing  or  contrasting 
them  with  the  living  models,  of  which  I  diligently  availed  myself; 
though  depressing  doubts  began  to  intrude  themselves  on  my  mind 
as  to  the  probability  of  the  opportunities  I  hoped  for,  making  my 
study  more  a  duty  than  a  pleasure. 

My  vacant  evenings  were  now  frequent,  so  many  nights  being  en- 
grossed by  Miss  O'Neill's  and  Kemble's  performances  ;  but  were  not 
all  idly- spent.  The  theaters  afforded  subjects  of  study  to  me  which 
I  did  not  neglect.  At  Covent  Garden  (October  25)  Kemble  made 
his  first  appearance  this  season  in  Addison's  "  Cato,"  and  I  early  took 
places  near  the  stage  in  the  dress-circle,  my  intention  being  to  see 
him  through  his  round  of  characters,  to  convince  myself,  by  the  most 
careful  and  patient  observation,  how  far  his  title  to  praise  might  be 
exaggerated  by  his  panegyrists,  or  his  demerits  magnified  by  his  de- 
tractors ;  for  taste,  or  what  would  be  called  so,  has  its  factions,  some- 
times as  vehement  as  political  ones.  The.  house  was  moderately 
filled ;  there  was  sitting-room  in  the  pit,  and  the  dress-circle  was  not 
at  all  crowded.  I  noted  this,  having  expected  a  manifestation  of  pub- 
lic enthusiasm  which  was  not  there.  But  there  was  Kemble !  As 
he  sat  majestically  in  his  curule  chair,  imagination  could  not  supply 
a  grander  or  more  noble  presence.  In  face  and  form  he  realized  the 
most  perfect  ideal  that  ever  enriched  the  sculptor's  or  the  painter's 
fancy,  and  his  deportment  was  in  accord  with  all  of  outward  dignity 
and  grace  that  history  attributes  to  the  patres  conscripti.  In  one 
particular,  however,  I  was  greatly  disappointed  :  having  heard 
much  of  iris  scholarly  correctness,  I  expected  in  his  costume  to  see 
7 


98  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  LX. 

a  model  of  the  gens  togata  ;  but  the  cumbrous  drapery  in  which  he 
was  enveloped  bore  no  resemblance,  in  any  one  fold  or  peculiarity, 
to  the  garment  that  distinguished  the  Roman  as  one  of  the  rerum 
dominos.  The  ensemble  was  nevertheless  remarkably  striking,  and 
the  applause  that  greeted  him  proved  the  benches  to  be  occupied  by 
very  devoted  admirers.  The  tragedy,  five  acts  of  declamatory,  un- 
impassioned  verse,  the  monotony  of  which,  correct  as  his  emphasis 
and  reading  was,  Kemble's  husky  voice  and  labored  articulation  did 
not  tend  to  dissipate  or  enliven,  was  a  tax  upon  the  patience  of  the 
hearers.  The  frequently  recurring  sentiments  on  patriotism  and  lib- 
erty, awakening  no  response,  were  listened  to  with  respectful,  almost 
drowsy  attention.  But,  like  an  eruptive  volcano  from  some  level 
expanse,  there  was  one  burst  that  electrified  the  house.  When  Por- 
tius  entered  with  the  exclamation,  — 

"  Misfortune  on  misfortune  !  grief  on  grief ! 
My  brother  Marcius,"  — 

Kemble,  with  a  start  of  unwonted  animation,  rushed  across  the  stage 
to  him,  huddling  questions  one  upon  another  with  extraordinary  volu- 
bility of  utterance  — 

"  Ha  !  what  has  he  done  ?  — 

Has  he  forsook  his  post  ?     Has  he  given  way  ? 

Did  he  look  tamely  on  and  let  them  pass  ?  " 

Then  listening  with  intense  eagerness  to  the  relation  of  Portius  —  how 

"  Long  at  the  head  of  his  few  faithful  friends 
He  stood  the  shock  of  u  whole  host  of  foes, 
Till,  obstinately  brave,  and  bent  on  death, 
Oppress'd  with  multitudes,  he  greatly  fell"  — 

as  he  caught  the  last  word  he  gasped  out  convulsively,  as  if  suddenly 
relieved  from  an  agony  of  doubt,  "  I  am  satisfied ! "  and  the-  theateV 
rang  with  applause  most  heartily  and  deservedly  bestowed.  This  was 
his  great  effect  —  indeed  his  single  effect ;  and  great  and  refreshing  as 
it  was,  it  was  not  enough  so  to  compensate  for  a  whole  evening  of 
merely  sensible  cold  declamation.  I  watched  him  intently  throughout 
—  not  a  look  or  tone  was  lost  by  me  ;  his  attitudes  were  stately  and 
picturesque,  but  evidently  prepared  ;  even  the  care  he  took  in  the  dis- 
position of  his  mantle  was  distinctly  observable.  If  meant  to  present 
a  picture  of  Stoicism,  the.  success  might  be  considered  unequivocal,  but 
unbroken,  except  by  the  grand  effect  above  described ;  though  it  might 
satisfy  the  classic  antiquary,  the  want  of  variety  and  relief  rendered  it 
uninteresting,  and  often  indeed  tedious.  Charles  Kemble  made  the 
most  of  Juba,  in  which  there  was  little  to  be  done. 

Kean's  appearance  in  two  new  characters  —  Sir  Edward  Mortimer 
in  Col  man's  play  of  "The  Iron  Chest,"  and  Oroonoko  in  Southern's 
tragedy  of  that  name  —  attracted  me  two  nights  at  Drury  Lane,  and 
confirmed  my  opinion  of  his  unquestionable  genius.  The  house  was 
very  good,  but  not  full,  to  "  The  Iron  Chest ;  "  to  "  Oroonoko  "  it  was 
indifferent.  Sir  Edward  Mortimer  was  one  of  Kean's  most  finished 


1816-17.  KEAWS  STR  EDWARD  MORTIMER.  90 

portraitures.  He  had  grasped  the  complete  conception  of  the  char- 
acter, the  Falkland  of  Godwin's  "  Caleb  Williams,"  and  was  consist- 
ently faithful  to  it  through  every  varied  shade  of  passion.  There  was 
an  absence  of  all  trick  in  the  performances.  Scarcely  once  through 
the  whole  part  did  he  give  way  to  that  unpleasant  mode  of  preluding 
a  sentence  (an  occasional  habit  with  him)  by  a  hesitation,  or  a  sound 
as  of  a  half-laugh,  like  a  cue  for  the  applause  of  claqueurs.  He  had 
subjected  his  style  to  the  restraint  of  the  severest  taste.  His  elocution 
was  flowing,  discriminating,  and  most  impressive.  In  his  deportment 
there  was  the  dignified  ease  of  one  accustomed  to  receive  obedience ; 
the  mild  and  gentle  manner  of  his  address  to  his  dependents  spoke  the 
benevolence  of  his  nature,  while  his  woe-worn  aspect  told  of  some 
settled  grief  that  was  preying  on  his  heart.  The  very  mournfulness 
of  tone  in  which,  before  his  entrance,  he  called  for  "  Winterton,"  pre- 
pared the  spectator  for  the  picture  of  blight  and  sorrow  that  his  ap- 
pearance presented.  When  in  Wilford's  utterance  of  the  word  "  mur- 
der "  the  chord  was  struck  that  seemed  to  vibrate  through  every  fibre 
of  his  frame,  the  internal  struggle  to  regain  his  self-possession  quite 
thrilled  the  audience.  His  trembling  hand  turned  over  rapidly  the 
leaves  of  the  book  he  held,  as  if  to  search  its  pages,  that  were  evidently 
a  blank  to  his  bewildered  sight,  till  the  agony  of  his  feelings  overbore 
all  efforts  at  repression,  and  with  tiger  fury  he  sprang  upon  the  terri- 
fied youth.  But  to  instance  particular  points  in  a  personation  dis- 
figured by  so  few  blemishes  almost  seems  an  injustice  to  a  most  artis- 
tic whole.  Throughout  the  play  the  actor  held  absolute  sway  over  his 
hearers  :  alike  when  nearly  maddened  by  the  remembrance  of  his  wrong 
and  the  crime  it  had  provoked,  in  his  touching  reflections  on  the  pres- 
ent and  future  recompense  of  a  well-regulated  life,  in  pronouncing  the 
appalling  curse  on  Wilford's  head  ;  or,  when  looking  into  his  face,  and 
in  the  desolate'ness  of  his  spirit,  with  a  smile  more  moving  than  tears, 
he  faintly  uttered  —  "  None  know  my  tortures  !  "  His  terrible  avowal 
of  the  guilt  that  had  embittered  existence  to  him  brought,  as  it  were, 
the  actual  perpetration  of  the  deed  before  us  ;  the  frenzy  of  his  ven- 
geance seemed  rekindled  in  all  its  desperation,  as  he  uttered  the  words 
—  "I  stabbed  him  to  the  heart."  He  paused  as  if  in  horror  at  the 
sight  still  present  to  him,  and,  following  with  his  dilated  eye  the  dread- 
ful vision,  he  slowly  continued  —  "  And  my  oppressor  rolled  lifeless  at 
my  foot !  "  The  last  scene  was  a  worthy  climax  to  a  performance  re- 
plete with  beauties,  that  in  its  wildest  bursts  of  passion  never  "  over- 
stepped the  modesty  of  nature."  Colman,  who  had  tutored  Elliston 
in  the  part,  and  frequently  seen  Young's  very  successful  assumption  of 
it,  must  have  felt  pride  in  witnessing  this  representation.  He  was 
more  jealous  of  the  effect  of  this  than  of  any  other  of  his  dramas.  He 
was  put  into  a  state  of  extreme  perturbation  once  on  the  occasion  of  a 
very  indifferent  player,  who  was  the  hero  of  a  private  theater  in  the 
Tottenham  Court  Ro'ad,  appearing  as  Mortimer  at  the  Haymarket 
Theater.  On  tenterhooks  during  the  whole  play,  when  in  the  last 
scene  Falkner,  the  representative  of  Mortimer,  exclaimed  in  his  de- 


100  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES,  CHAP.  IX. 

lirium,  "  Where  is  my  honor  now  ?  "  Colman  could  not  restrain  him- 
self, but  called  out,  "  I  wish  your  honor  was  in  Tottenham  Court  Road 
again  with  all  my  heart !  " 

"  Oroonoko  "  had  of  late  years  ceased  to  be  attractive,  nor  could  all 
the  talent  of  Kean  in  the  principal  character  restore  its  popularity. 
The  introduction  of  Aboan,  his  back  bleeding  from  the  driver's  lash, 
is  one  of  those  revolting  spectacles  t'nit  come  within  the  prohibitory 
canon  of  the  poet : 

"  Multaquc  tollcs 
Ex  oculis  qua  mox  narret  facundia  praesens ;  " 1 

and  were  there  no  other  causes  of  exception,  would  remain  an  insu- 
perable one,  as  exciting  emotions  not  merely  painful,  but  disagreeable. 
Ben  Jonson  arraigns  Shakespeare  on  the  score  of  taste  in  suffering 
Desdemona  to  be  smothered  in  sight  of  the  audience,  which  he  con- 
demns as  simply  "  horror  ;  "  and  it  was  Coleridge's  observation,  that 
whilst  terror,  the  legitimate  passion  of  tragedy,  touches  the  heart,  hor- 
ror makes  a  descent,  and  affects  the  stomach.  Kean  had  bestowed 
great  pains  on  the  study  of  the  part,  and,  though  more  unequal  than 
his  Sir  Edward  Mortimer,  gave  a  masterly  delineation  of  the  noble 
African.  In  his  calm  submission  to  his  fate  his  demeanor  was  still 
princely,  and  his  reproaches  struck  deeper  from  the  temper  with  which 
they  were  uttered.  Among  the  effective  passages  with  which  his  per- 
formance abounded,  I  could  instance  as  one,  from  his  mode  of  delivery, 
never  to  be  forgotten,  his  prayer  for  his  Imoinda.  After  replying  to 
Blandford,  "  No,  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  for  me ! "  he  remained 
for  a  few  moments  in  apparent  abstraction,  then  with  a  concentration 
of  feeling  that  gave  emphasis  to  every  word,  clasping  his  hands  to- 
gether, in  tones  most  tender,  distinct,  and  melodious,  he  poured  out, 
as  if  from  the  very  depths  of  his  heart,  his  earnest  supplication : 

"  Thou  God  adored  !  thou  ever-glorious  sun  ! 
If  she  be  yet  on  earth,  send  me  a  beam 
Of  thy  all-seeing  power  to  light  me  to  her  ! 
Or  if  thy  sister  goddess  has  preferr'd 
Her  beauty  to  the  skies,  to  be  a  star, 
Oh,  tell  me  where  she  shines,  that  I  may  stand 
Whole  nights  and  gaze  upon  her !  " 

With  all  his  extraordinary  power  he  would  often  descend  to  court 
applause  by  trickery,  at  the  expense  of  correctness,  as  in  this  play, 
against  the  remonstrance  of  Rae,  the  stage-manager,  he  altered  the 
text,  "  What,  is  he  gone?"  to  win  the  clapping  of  "  the  groundlings  " 
by  a  trick  of  voice,  "  Where  is  he  ?  Eh  !  Eh  ?  gone  ! "  These  were  lit- 
tlenesses which  a  man  so  wonderfully  gifted  could  well  afford  to  have 
held  himself  above. 

An  event  now  occurred,  that  could  not  fail  to  act  in  some  measure 

1  •  •         •         .         .        Such  scenes 

Withdrawn  should  be  from  the  spectator's  eye, 
And  spoken  narrative  the  plot  supply. 

HOKACE,  Art  of  Poetry.  —  ED.  TBANS. 


1816-17.  BOOTH  AS  RICHARD   THE  THIRD.  101 

as  a  discouragement  to  a  young  actor  circumstanced  like  myself,  who 
for  the  ultimate  recognition  of  his  claims  placed  his  single  reliance  on 
severe  and  honest  endeavors  in  the  mastery  of  his  art.  I  had  now  to 
discover,  what  experience  has  since  made  familiar  to  me,  that  notoriety 
has  a  charm  for  "  the  fond  many,"  outvaluing  for  a  time  (though  only 
for  a  time)  the  more  solid  pretensions  of  artistic  truth.  A  report  had 
reached  the  managers  of  Covent  Garden  of  a  Mr.  Booth  (who  in  figure, 
voice,  and  manner  so  closely  resembled  Kean  that  he  might  be  taken 
for  his  twin  brother)  acting  Richard  the  Third  at  Brighton  and  Worth- 
ing with  the  greatest  success.  An  appearance  at  Covent  Garden  was 
offered  to  him  with  the  promise  of  an  engagement  if  successful.  Ac- 
cordingly on  the  12th  of  February  (1817)  he  appeared  in  Gloster,  and 
certainly  on  his  first  entrance  on  the  stage,  with  a  similar  coiffure  and 
dress,  he  might  have  been  thought  Kean  himself.  With  considerable 
physical  power,  a  strong  voice,  a  good  deal  of  bustle,  some  stage  expe- 
rience, and  sufficient  intelligence  to  follow  out  the  traditional  effects  of 
the  part,  he  succeeded  in  winning  the  applause  and  favor  of  his  audi- 
ence, and  repeated  the  performance  on  the  following  night.  He  was 
announced  in  consequence  again  for  the  17th,  but  in  the  interim  the 
question  of  his  engagement  was  mooted.  The  managers  offered  him 
£8  per  week,  which  he  declined,  and  withdrew  his  name.  This,  to- 
gether with  the  reported  similarity  of  his  figure  and  manner  to  Kean's 
(with  whom  his  admirers  ventured  to  compare  him)  made  some  little 
stir  in  the  theatrical  world.  Kean,  who  was  supposed  not  to  feel  com- 
plimented by  the  comparison,  drove  to  Booth's  lodgings,  and  in  the 
most  friendly  manner  informed  him  that  he  had  procured  an  engage- 
ment for  him  from  the  committee  of  Drury  Lane,  and  that  his  carriage 
was  waiting  to  take  them  to  the  theater,  where  all  would  be  settled  at 
once.  Booth  readily  went  with  him,  an  engagement  at  £10  per  week 
was  agreed  on  and  signed,  and  Booth  was  immediately  advertised  to 
appear  in  lago  to  Kean's  Othello  on  the  20th  of  February. 

The  theater  was  crowded  to  the  very  ceiling  on  that  night,  which 
was  often  spoken  of  long  afterwards  for  the  extraordinary  effect  pro- 
duced by  Kean's  acting.1  He  seems  to  have  put  forth  all  his  power, 
and  according  to  the  testimony  of  Hazlitt,  Procter,  Hamilton,  Rey- 
nolds, and  other  excellent  judges,  he  never  acted  as  he  did  on  this  oc- 
casion. My  brother,  who  had  not  before  seen  him,  could  only  obtain 
standing-room  in  a  corner  of  the  slips,  but,  despite  his  inconvenient  po- 
sition and  consequent  weariness,  returned  in  raptures  of  admiration  at 
the  performance.  Booth  was  not  only  obscured,  but  hidden  ;  no  one 
seemed  to  give  a  thought  to  him.  The  question  of  comparison  was 
completely  set  at  rest.  The  tragedy  was  announced  for  repetition  on 
the  22d,  but  Booth  was  not  well  enough  to  appear.  He  sent  a  note 

1  The  Times  on  Othello.  —  Kean  and  Booth.  —  "  As  lago  Mr.  Booth  was  high'y 
respectable.  But  the  chief  e'clat  of  the  performance  was  due  to  Mr  Kean.  This 

great  actor  excelled  on  the  present  occasion  all  his  preceding  efforts 

There  were  scenes  in  this  play  which  we  had  never  yet  beheld  so  ably  represented, 
and  there  were  improvements  in  Kean's  acting  of  which  we  did  not  think  the 
tragedian's  art  had  been  susceptible." 


102  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  IX 

about  three  o'clock  on  that  day,  stating  that  he  was  very  ill  and  or- 
dered to  leave  town  for  change  of  air.  On  inquiry  at  his  lodgings  his 
wife  neither  knew  that  he  was  ill  nor  that  he  had  left  town.  On  the 
evening  of  the  same  day  he  addressed  a  letter  to  the  committee,  to  the 
effect  that  he  could  not  appear  in  his  own  characters  at  Drury  Lane, 
and  that  he  had  in  consequence  renewed  his  engagements  with  Covent 
Garden.  Briefly,  he  broke  his  engagement  with  the  Drury  Lane  com- 
mittee, and  returned  to  Covent  Garden,  where  he  resumed  the  part  of 
Richard  III.  on  the  25th. 

By  this  breach  of  contract,  which  was  circumstantially  given  with 
his  letters  in  the  Drury  Lane  play-bills,  the  indignation  of  the  public 
was  raised  to  such  a  pitch,  that  Covent  Garden  Theater,  where  before 
he  had  played  to  scant  audiences,  was  now  filled  with  persons  exas- 
perated against  him.  The  tumult  was  so  great,  that  not  a  word  of  the 
play  was  heard.  The  house  was  again  filled  on  March  the  1st  to  the 
same  play,  and  with  the  same  result.  Apologies  and  appeals,  which 
could  not  be  heard  in  the  theater,  were  made  in  the  play-bills,  and  at 
length  silence  was  obtained,  but  from  comparatively  deserted  benches. 
With  the  subsidence  of  "  the  row  "  the  attraction  diminished.  The 
Drury  Lane  committee  brought  an  action  against  Booth  and  the  Co- 
vent  Garden  managers,  but  afterwards  dropped  it.  Kean  wrote  a  let- 
ter to  the  papers,  stating  that  "  The"  Wolves  "  club  no  longer  existed 
—  a  proof  it  had  existed  —  and  so  the  squabble  ended.  But  the  Co- 
vent  Garden  managers,  hoping  still  to  draw  some  profit  from  the  noto- 
riety it  had  given  birth  to,  determined  to  push  their  experiment  with 
Booth  to  the  utmost.  Sir  Giles  Overreach  (in  which  Kean  had  made 
quite  a  sensation)  was  his  second  part,  in  the  last  scene  of  which  he 
resorted  to  a  maneuver  which  was  severely  commented  upon.  One 
of  the  attendants  who  held  him  was  furnished  with  a  sponge  filled 
with  blood  (rose-pink),  which  he,  unseen  by  the  audience,  squeezed 
into  his  mouth  to  convey  the  idea  of  his  having  burst  a  blood-vessel. 
It  is  not  by  such  means  as  these  that  the  dramatic  poet  is  to  find  sup- 
port from  the  artist.  Persisting,  in  the  theatrical  phrase,  in  trying  to 
"  keep  him  up,"  the  managers  gave  Booth  Sir  Edward  Mortimer,  Post- 
humus  in  "  Cymbeline,"  and  Fitzharding  in  Tobin's  play  of  "  The  Cur- 
few." It  would  scarcely  be  expected  that  I  should  look  with  much 
complacency  on  the  preference  they  showed,  though  little  or  no  advance 
resulted  in  the  public  estimation  from  their  policy.1  In  "  The  Cur- 
few "  I  volunteered  to  act  the  part  of  Robert,  in  which  is  one  scene  of 
considerable  power,  and  its  effect  answered  my  expectations.  But 
now  came  on  a  trial  to  submit  to  which  required  all  my  nerve  and 
power  of  endurance.  A  new  play,  called  "  The  Conquest  of  Taranto, 
or  St.  Clara's  Eve,"  written  by  Dimoud,  was  read  in  the  manager's 
room.  An  original  part  is  justly  considered  (as  Kemble  before  me, 

1  Morning  Herald  on  "The  Curfew." — Booth.  —  "That  the  gentleman  docs 
posses?  some  talent  we  have  already  expressed  our  belief;  but  that  it  is  not  of  that 
extent  which  his  friends  would  have  us  imagine  the  public  voice  has  more  than 
once  unequivocally  declared." 


1816-17.  BOOTH'S  RETREAT.  103 

and  as  I  myself  in  the  Slave  had  already  proved)  of  the  greatest  serv- 
ice to  an  actor ;  and  the  hero  of  this  piece,  Elnaldo,  with  the  hope  and 
purpose  of  establishing  him  firmly  in  the  highest  favor  with  the  public, 
was  allotted  to  Booth.  Young  had,  of  course,  a  very  prominent  char- 
acter, Egerton  an  important  one ;  Miss  Stephens,  Sinclair,  etc.,  were 
among  the  dramatis  personce.  A  part  called  Valentio  was  forced  upon 
me,  the  managers  refusing  to  accept  the  forfeit,  thirty  pounds,  which  I 
would  willingly  have  paid  for  my  release.  There  was  scarcely  a  line 
of  passion  in  it  —  one  of  the  meanest,  most  despicable  villains  that  a 
romancer's  invention  ever  teemed  with.  I  looked  on  myself  as  inev- 
itably ruined  by  the  exposure  to  such  a  degradation.  But  there  was 
no  redress,  no  escape.  I  could  not,  sensitive  and  indiscreet  as  I  was, 
suppress  at  the  rehearsals  expression  of  the  bitterness  I  felt,  and  was 
unwisely  stung  to  anger  by  Mr.  Booth's  sneering  observation  one  morn- 
ing, "  I  think  your  part  is  as  good  as  mine."  "  Will  you  change  with 
me  ?  "  was  my  reply,  sufficiently  answered  by  his  significant  and  trium- 
phant smile. 

The  day  of  representation  came  on,  and  I  went  from  the  rehearsal 
to  my  lodgings  sick  with  nervousness  and  apprehension,  where  I  lay 
down  to  steady  my  nerves  and  prepare  myself  for  the  disapprobation 
that  already  seemed  to  ring  in  my  ears.  The  play  proceeded  rather 
tamely  to  the  second  act,  in  which-  Young  roused  the  audience  by  his 
splendid  declamation.  From  that  point  it  flagged  in  interest  (Booth 
making  no  impression),  and  was  indeed  drooping,  when  his  greatest 
scene  came  on.  This  was  in  the  last  act,  in  which  he  had  to  relate 
in  frantic  rage  to  Valentio,  his  pretended  friend,  the  treachery  that 
had  been  practiced  on  him,  with  denunciations  of  the  act,  and  of  the 
unknown  villain  (Valentio)  who  had  so  basely  ensnared  him.  Here 
was  the  anticipated  climax  of  his  triumph ;  but  the  interest  of  the- 
scene  took  altogether  a  contrary  direction.  The  agitation  of  the 
traitor,  as  with  averted  face  he  stood  shuddering  under  the  impreca- 
tions on  his  guilt,  and  the  expression  of  his  shame  and  remorse,  so  com- 
pletely engrossed  attention  and  excited  the  spectators,  that  loud  and 
frequent  applauses  broke  forth,  interrupting  and  drowning  the  con- 
cluding words  of  Rinaldo's  speeches,  so  that  the  effect  of  the  dialogue 
was  directly  the  reverse  of  what  the  author  had  intended  and  the 
managers  expected.1  With  the  failure  of  this  play,  which  was  acted 
only  a  few  nights,  the  attempt  to  give  prominence  to  Booth  was  aban- 
doned, he  only  appearing  four  times  more  during  the  remainder  of  the 
season. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  the  event  in  this  instance  should  so  utterly 
have  defeated  expectation  ;  but  from  the  many  opportunities  subse- 
quently afforded  me  of  testing  the  fallibility  of  opinion  in  these  cases, 
the  conclusion  has  been  forced  upon  me  that  the  most  experienced 

1  Morning  Herald  on  "  The  Conquest  of  Taranto."  —  There  were  some  good 
scenes,  particularly  one  between  Mr.  Macready  and  Mr.  Booth,  which  probably 
paved  the  piece.  Mr.  Macresuly's  acting  was  excellent  throughout,  and  mainly 
contributed  to  the  success  of  the  piece." 


104  UACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CIIAI-.  X 

judges  cannot  with  certainty  predict  the  effect  in  representation  of 
plays  which  they  may  hear  read,  or  even  see  rehearsed.  Some  latent 
weakness,  some  deficient  link  in  the  chain  of  interest,  imperceptible 
till  in  actual  presence,  will  oftentimes  balk  hopes  apparently  based  on 
the  firmest  principles,  and  baffle  judgments  respected  as  oracular. 


CHAPTER  X. 

1817.  —  First  acquaintance  with  Richard  Lnlor  Sheil  —  His  appearance  and  con- 
versation—  "  The  Apostate"  —  Macready  as  Pescara  —  Importance  of  acting 
nt  rehearsal  —  Ludwig  Tieck's  opinion  of  Macready  —  John  Kcmhle's  last 
nights  —  Reappearance  of  Mrs.  Siddons  for  his  benefit — Kemble's  last  per- 
lunnunce  of  Macbeth  —  Talma  present — Kemble's  powers  and  failings  as  au 
artist  —  Dinner  to  Talma  at  the  Clarendon  Hotel. 

THIS  unlooked-for  result  ought,  perhaps,  to  have  acted  as  a  lesson, 
teaching  me  for  the  future  confidence  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of  care- 
ful and  honest  study ;  but,  not  enjoying  the  advantage  of  a  very  san- 
guine temperament,  my  spirits  had  begun  to  give  way  in  contemplating 
the  impediments  already  interposed  to  my  attainment  of  the  highest 
rank ;  and  in  speculating  on  the  adverse  chances  that  might  further 
arise,  I  began  to  cast  about  my  thoughts  in  quest  of  some  other  mode 
of  life  less  subject  to  those  alternations  of  hope  and  dejection  which  so 
frequently  and  so  painfully  acted  upon  my  temper.  Still  my  resolution 
never  wavered  to  do,  as  far  as  in  me  lay,  the  best  in  whatever  was  to 
be  done,  and  an  occasion  soon  arose  to  put  my  firmness  to  the  test. 
**A  call"  was  sent  me  to  attend  the  reading  of  a  new  tragedy.  The 
author  was  Richard  Sheil,  a  young  briefless  Irish  barrister,  recently 
married  to  a  very  pretty  woman,  niece  of  the  Irish  Master  of  the 
Rolls.  No  one  could  look  at  Sheil  and  not  be  struck  with  his  singular 
physiognomy.  A  quick  sense  of  the  humorous  and  a  lively  fancy  gave 
constant  animation  to  his  features,  which  were  remarkable  for  their 
flexibility.  His  chin  projected  rather  sharply,  and  his  mouth  was 
much  indrawn.  The  pallor  of  his  sunken  cheek  suggested  a  weakness 
of  constitution,  but  lent  additional  lustre  to  his  large,  deep-set  eyes, 
that  shone  out  with  expression  from  underneath  his  massive  overhang- 
ing brow.  His  conversation  was  most  delightful,  richly  stored  as  his 
mind  was  with  the  literature  of  many  tongues,  and  teeming  with  the 
original  conceptions  of  a  very  fertile  imagination.  It  was  at  the 
chambers  of.  our  mutual  friend  Wallace,  in  the  Temple,  that  I  made 
his  acquaintance,  which  soon  ripened  into  a  friendship  that  continued 
Unbroken  to  his  death.  "\Vith  his  dramatic  successes  my  own  fortunes 
became  in  some  measure  identified  ;  but  it  was  not  with  less  interest 
that  I  watched  his  upward  progress  from  his  spirit-stirring  appeals  in 
the  Catholic  Association  in  behalf  of  his  disqualified  countrymen  to 
his  frequent  displays  of  eloquence  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  his 
eventual  participation  in  the  offices  of  our  government. 


1821.  SHEWS  PLAY  OF  "THE  APOSTATE."  105 

Young,  Charles  Kemble,  Miss  O'Neill  (who  took  a  great  interest  in 
the  author),  and  others,  with  myself,  met  in  the  manager's  room  to 
hear  him  read  his  play,  "  The  Apostate."  The  peculiarity  of  his  ap- 
pearance, regardless  as  he  was  of  the  niceties  of  dress,  together  with 
his  harsh,  shrill  voice,  caused  several  of  his  auditors  at  first  to  cast 
furtive  glances  from  one  to  the  other  significant  of  no  very  high  ex- 
pectation ;  but  his  intense  earnestness  and  impassioned  delivery  soon 
riveted  attention,  and  all  were  presently  absorbed  in  the  progress  of 
the  scenes.  Applause  followed  their  close  ;  and  as  the  written  parts 
were  distributed  to  their  several  representatives,  my  forebodings  were 
verified  when  the  MS.  of  Pescara  was  put  into  my  hands.  Mourn- 
fully and  despondently  I  received  it.  Charles  Kemble's  consolation 
for  me  in  the  greenroom  was,  "  Why,  William,  it  is  no  doubt  a  disa- 
greeable part,  but  there  is  passion  in  it."  Which  being  true,  there  was 
nothing  for  me  but  to  think  how  to  .work  it  out  with  the  most  power- 
ful effect,  and  to  work  I  went  upon  it  with  my  usual  determination. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  London  actors,  especially  the  leading  ones, 
to  do  little  more  at  rehearsals  than  read  or  repeat  the  words  of  their 
parts,  marking  on  them  their  entrances  and  exits,  as  settled  by  the 
stage-manager,  and  their  respective  places  on  the  stage.  To  make  any 
display  of  passion  or  energy  would  be  to  expose  one's  self  to  the  ridicule 
or  sneers  of  the  greenroom,  and  few  could  be  more  morbidly  sensitive 
to  this  than  myself.  But  the  difficulty  of  attaining  before  an  audience 
perfect  self-possession,  which  only  practice  can  give,  made  me  resolve 
to  rehearse  with  the  same  earnestness  as  I  would  act ;  reasoning  with 
myself  that  if  practice  was  of  the  value  attributed  to  it,  this  would  be 
a  mode  of  multiplying  its  opportunities,  of  proving  the  effect  of  my 
performance,  and  of  putting  myself  so  much  at  ease  in  all  I  might  in- 
tend to  do  that  the  customary  nervousness  of  a  first  night  would  fail 
to  disturb  or  prevent  the  full  development  of  my  conceptions.  Upon 
making  the  experiment  I  may  quote  Dryden's  line,  "  'T  is  easy  said, 
but  oh  !  how  hardly  tried  !  "  I  found  it  much  more  difficult  to  force 
myself  to  act  in  the  morning  with  the  cold  responses  and  the  com- 
posed looks  of  Miss  O'Neill,  Young,  and  the  rest,  than  at  night  be- 
fore the  most  crowded  auditory.  Frequently  in  after-years  when  I 
have  given  certain  directions  to  actors  rehearsing,  the  answer  has 
been,  "  Sir,  I  never  can  act  at  rehearsal,  but  I  will  do  it  at  night."  To 
which  I  had  only  one  reply,  "  Sir,  if  you  cannot  do  it  in  the  morning, 
you  cannot  do  it  at  night ;  you  must  then  do  something  because  you 
must  go  on,  but  what  you  cannot  do  now,  or  cannot  learn  to  do,  you 
will  not  be  more  able  to  do  then."  The  task  I  found  a  very  hard  one, 
but  I  fought  successfully  against  my  mauvaise  honte,  and  went  dog- 
gedly to  it.  By  this  means  I  acquired  more  ease  in  passing  through 
the  varieties  of  passion,  confirming  myself  in  the  habit  of  acting  to 
the  scene  alone,  and,  as  it  were,  ignoring  the  presence  of  an  audience, 
and  thus  came  to  wield  at  will  what  force  or  pathos  I  was  master  of. 

Our  rehearsals,  now  my  regular  school  of  practice,  brought  us  to 
the  night  of  the  play's  representation,  May  3d,  to  which  I  went  with 


106  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  X, 

fear  and  trembling ;  but  I  knew  what  I  had  to  do,  and  I  did  it.  The 
tragedy  obtained  a  complete  success.  Young  acted  admirably  the  old 
Moor  Malec ;  Charles  Kemble  was  spirited,  chivalrous,  and  gallant  in 
Hemeya  ;  and  Miss  O'Neill  beautiful  in  Florinda.  In  her  apology  for 
her  love  of  Hemeya  the  words  seemed  to  flow  in  music  from  her  chis- 
eled lips.  It  was  the  perfection  of  elocution.  In  the  fourth  act  her 
efforts  to  save  her  lover,  and  her  recoil  of  horror  from  the  proposals 
of  Pescara,  raised  the  enthusiasm  of  the  audience  to  a  tumult  of  ap- 
plause, and  the  act-drop  fell  amidst  the  acclamations  of  the  whole 
house.  The  character  of  Pescara  tended  to  improve  my  position  with 
the  critical  portion  of  the  play-going  public,  but  in  its  extreme  odious- 
ness  rather  prejudiced  me  with  the  generality.1  At  a  later  period  a 
testimony  was  afforded  me,  in  the  opinion  of  the  illustrious  Ltidwig 
Tieck,  which  more  than  compensated  me  for  the  pains  I  had  taken 
and  the  anxiety  I  had  undergone.  In  his  "  Letters  on  the  English 
Drama,"  in  1817,  he  records  the  impression  produced  on  him  by  this 
performance.  In  remarking  upon  it  he  says,  "  This  villain  was  admi- 
rably represented,  and  was  indeed  so  vehement,  truthful,  and  powerful 
a  personation,  that  for  the  first  time  since  my  arrival  in  England  I  felt 
myself  recalled  to  the  best  days  of  German  acting.  If  the  young 
man  continues  in  this  style,  he  will  go  far." 

Kemble's  last  nights  were  now  drawing  to  a  close,  but  not  answer- 
ing the  manager's  expectation  of  their  attraction,  were  given  for  bene- 
fits to  those  performers  who  chose  to  pay  their  extra  price.  He  acted 
Hotspur  for  Young,  Macbeth  for  Charles  Kemble,  the  Stranger  for 
Miss  O'Neill,  Hamlet  for  Miss  Stephens,  Wolsey  for  Farley,  and  Pen- 
ruddock  for  Blanchard.  I  saw  him  in  Hotspur,  Macbeth,  the  Stranger, 
Hamlet,  Wolsey,  Brutus,  Octavian,  King  John,  Lord  Townley,  and 
Coriolanus.  Of  these  I  gave  the  preference  to  King  John,  Wolsey,  the 
Stranger,  Brutus,  and  his  peerless  Coriolanus.  On  his  last  performance 
of  Macbeth  Mrs.  Siddons  was  induced  to  reappear  for  her  brother 
Charles  Kemble's  benefit.  The  theater  was  crowded.  The  musicians 
were  ejected  from  the  orchestra,  which  was  filled  with  seats  for  spec- 
tators, among  whom  was  Talma  himself,  then  on  a  visit  to  England. 
As  a  very  great  favor  Charles  Kemble  gave  me  a  place  in  the  third 
circle.  Immense  applause  greeted  the  entrance  of  the  Queen  of  Trag- 
edy, the  unrivaled  Siddons,  as  Lady  Macbeth.  It  was  indeed  Mrs. 
Siddons  in  person,  but  no  longer  the  Mrs.  Siddons  on  whose  every 
look  and  accent  enraptured  crowds  would  hang  breathless  with  delight 
and  astonishment  —  who  lent  to  dramatic  poetry  pathos  and  power  be- 
yond what  the  author  himself  could  have  conceived.  Years  had  done 
their  work,  and  those  who  had  seen  in  her  impersonations  the  highest 

1  From  the  Morning  Herald,  May  5th,  on  "  The  Apostate."  —  "  The  author  must 
feel  much  indebted  to  Mr.  Macready  for  the  bold  and  masterly  style  in  which  he 
represented  Count  Pescarn.  He  was  particularly  happy  in  the' severe  irony  which 
constitutes  a  prominent  feature  of  this  tyrant ;  and  when  his  indignation  was 
aroused,  and  he  could  no  longer  conceal  the  passions  which  were  consuming  his 
heart,  his  delivery  was  rapid,  fervent,  and  impressive.  He  looked  the  character 
completely." 


1817.  CRITICISM  ON  KEMBLE'S  ACTING.  107 

"  glories  of  her  art "  now  felt  regret  that  she  should  have  been  pre- 
vailed on  to  leave  her  honored  retirement,  and  force  a  comparison  be- 
tween the  grandeur  of  the  past  and  the  feeble  present.  It  was  not  a 
performance,  but  a  mere  repetition  of  the  poet's  text  —  no  flash,  no 
sign  of  her  pristine  all-subduing  genius ! 

Through  the  whole  first  four  acts  the  play  moved  heavily  on :  Kemble 
correct,  tame,  and  ineffective  ;  but  in  the  fifth,  when  the  news  was 
brought,  "  The  queen,  my  lord,  is  dead,"  he  seemed  struck  to  the  heart ; 
gradually  collecting  himself,  he  sighed  out,  "  She  should  have  died  here- 
after !  "  then,  as  if  with  the  inspiration  of  despair,  he  hurried  out,  dis- 
tinctly and  pathetically,  the  lines : 

"  To-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow, 
Creeps  in  this  pretty  pace  from  day  to  day, 
To  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time, 
And  all  our  yesterdays  have  lighted  fools 
The  way  to  dusty  death.     Out,  out,  brief  candle. 
Life 's  but  a  walking  shadow ;  a  poor  player 
That  struts  and  frets  his  hour  upon  the  stage, 
And  then  is  heard  no  more  :  it  is  a  tale 
Told  by  an  idiot,  full  of  sound  and  fury, 
Signifying  nothing,"  — 

rising  to  a  climax  of  desperation  that  brought  down  the  enthusiastic 
cheers  of  the  closely-packed  theater.  All  at  once  he  seemed  carried 
away  by  the  genius  of  the  scene.  At  the  tidings  of  "  the  wood  of  Bir- 
nam  moving,"  he  staggered,  as  if  the  shock  had  struck  the  very  seat 
of  life,  and  in  the  bewilderment  of  fear  and  rage  could  just  ejaculate 
the  words  "  Liar  and  slave  ! "  then  lashing  himself  into  a  state  of  frantic 
rage,  ended  the  scene  in  perfect  triumph.  His  shrinking  from  Mac- 
dun0  when  the  charm  on  which  his  life  hung  was  broken  by  the  decla- 
ration that  his  antagonist  was  "  not  of  woman  born  "  was  a  masterly 
stroke  of  art ;  his  subsequent  defiance  was  most  heroic ;  and  at  his 
death  Charles  Kemble  received  him  in  his  arms,  and  laid  him  gently 
on  the  ground,  his  physical  powers  being  unequal  to  further  effort. 

The  language  of  criticism  is  frequently  dogmatic,  exacting  deference 
from  the  authoritative  tone  it  assumes,  sometimes  without  the  needful 
preliminary  application  to  the  subject  of  which  it  treats.  It  was  said 
by  no  incompetent  judge,  "  De  pictore,  sculptore,  fictore,  nisi  artifex, 
judicare  non  potest."1  But  this  opinion,  as  applied  to  the  theatrical 
art,  is  repudiated  by  many  ;  and  as  I  have  before  observed,  it  is  held 
by  some  writers  in  England  (though  not  in  France),  that  no  particular 
study  is  requisite  to  make  a  critic  or  connoisseur  of  "  acting."  I  have 
been  led  by  observation  to  think  differently  ;  but,  although  my  active 
life  has  been  devoted  chiefly  to  the  study  of  poetry  and  playing,  I 
make  no  pretension  to  the  critic's  chair ;  and  in  trying  to  describe 
with  accuracy  what  was  palpable  to  my  senses,  advance  my  opinions 
no  farther  than  in  stating  the  impressions  made  upon  a  very  excitable 
temperament  and  a  very  sensitive  organization. 

1  No  one  but  an  artist  can  criticise  the  works  of  artists.  — Pliny,  Epist.  i.  10. 

—  ED. 


108  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  X 

On  the  sum  of  Kemble's  merits  judgments  differed :  that  he  was  a 
great  artist  all  allowed.  His  person  was  cast  in  the  heroic  mold,  and, 
as  may  be  seen  in  Lawrence's  splendid  portraits  of  him  in  Coriolanus, 
Hamlet,  and  Rolla,  reached  the  most  perfect  ideal  of  manly  beauty. 
But  he  had  serious  disadvantages  to  contend  with  in  a  very  disagree- 
able voice,  husky  and  untunable,  and  in  a  constitutional  asthma  that 
necessitated  a  prolonged  and  laborious  indraught  of  his  breath,  and 
obliged  him  for  the  sake  of  distinctness  to  adopt  an  elaborate  mode  of 
utterance,  enunciating  every  letter  in  every  word.  His  limbs  were 
not  supple  —  indeed  his  stately  bearing  verged  on  stiffness ;  and  his 
style,  more  suited  to  the  majestic,  the  lofty,  and  the  stern  than  the 
pathetic,  might  not  inaptly,  in  respect  to  his  movement  on  the  stage, 
be  termed  statuesque.  Mrs.  Siddons,  speaking  of  him  to  Reynolds, 
the  dramatist,  said,  "  My  brother  John  in  his  most  impetuous  bursts  is 
always  careful  to  avoid  any  discomposure  of  his  dress  or  deportment ; 
but  in  the  whirlwind  of  passion  I  lose  all  thought  of  such  matters  :  " 
and  this  forgetfulness  of  self  was  one  of  the  elements  of  her  surpass- 
ing power.  The  admission  of  Mrs.  Jnchbald,  one  of  Kemble's  most 
ardent  worshipers,  corroborates  the  opinion  very  generally  enter- 
tained of  his  phlegmatic  temperament.  In  the  part  of  Oswyn  in  Con- 
greve's  tragedy  of  "  The  Mourning  Bride,"  she  says,  "  Garrick  had 
great  spirit  and  fire  in  every  scene,  but  not  the  fire  of  love.  Kemble 
has  not  even  the  sparks.  Yet  Kemble  looks  nobly,  majestically,  in 
Oswyn,  and  reminds  the  audience  of  the  lines : 

" ' .     .     .     tall  pile, 
Whose  ancient  pillars  rear  their  marble  heads, 

Looking  tranquillity.' "  l 

In  all  he  did  the  study  was  apparent.  The  "ars  celare  artem,"3 
with  all  his  great  talent,  he  did  not  reach ;  but  he  compelled  the  re- 
spect and  admiration  where  he  did  not  excite  the  sympathies  of  his 
audience.  His  noble  form  and  stately  bearing  attracted  and  fixed  ob- 
servation, and  his  studious  correctness  retained  attention  ;  but  in  the 
torrent  and  tempest  of  passion  he  had  not  sustained  the  power  of  Talma 
or  Kean,  but,  like  a  Rembrandt  picture,  his  performances  were  re- 
markable for  most  brilliant  effects,  worked  out  with  wonderful  skill  on 
a  sombre  ground,  which  only  a  great  master  of  his  art  could  have 
achieved,  and  of  which  I  have  endeavored  to  convey  some  faint  idea 
in  my  description  of  scenes  of  "  Cato "  and  "  Macbeth."  In  his 
management  he  was  a  strict  disciplinarian,  following  the  traditional 
theatrical  observances  ;  and  the  stage  was  greatly  indebted  to  him  for 
the  reformation  he  effected  in  the  barbarous  costume  (Romans  with 
powdered  heads  and  knee-breeches)  that  was  in  vogue  until  his  day. 

Before  I  left  town,  which  I  did  on  leave  of  absence  previous  to  the 
close  of  the  season,  the  Covent  Garden  actors  gave  a  sumptuous 
dinner  at  the  Clarendon  Hotel  to  Talma,  to  which  of  course  Kemble 

1  The  Mourning  Bride,  act  ii.  BC.  1.  —  ED. 

2  "  The  art  of  concealing  art." —  ED. 


1817-18.  HOLIDAY  RAMBLES.  109 

was  invited.  It  was  intended  to  be  a  convivial  affair,  and  the  only 
speech  was  a  short  one  in  English  from  Talma,  expressive  of  his  sense 
of  the  flattering  attentions  paid  him,  and  of  the  gratification  he  felt  in 
participating  with  his  esteemed  friend  Kemble  in  the  pleasure  of  such 
a  meeting.  In  the  course  of  the  evening  Kemble  sent  by  a  waiter,  to 
ask  ine  to  drink  wine  with  him,  which  Charles  Kemble,  who  was  my 
next  neighbor,  hearing,  observed  to  me,  "  You  may  think  very  little, 
William,  of  this  as  a  compliment,  but  I  assure  you  it  is  a  great  deal 
from  my  brother."  Kemble's  general  manner  was  cold  and  austere, 
and  he  was  considered  in  the  theater  to  be  proud  and  imperious.  I 
therefore  felt  it  to  be  very  kind  and  complimentary  in  the  company  of 
so  many  my  seniors  to  make  so  young  a  man  an  exception  to  his  gen- 
eral practice.  My  absence  from  London  prevented  me  from  witness- 
ing his  farewell  performance  in  "  Coriolanus,"  and  the  presentation  of 
the  testimonial  at  the  parting  dinner  given  to  him  in  Freemasons' 
Hall,  to  which  I  subscribed.  It  was  on  that  occasion  that  Campbell's 
beautiful  "  Valedictory  Stanzas  "  were  read  by  Young,  and  on  their 
subsequent  publication  in  the  papers  many  were  the  voices  that  echoed 
the  line,  "  Pride  of  the  British  stage  !  a  long,  a  last  adieu  !  " 


CHAPTER  XL 

1817-1818.  —  A  diplomatic  adventure  —  Second  London   season  —  Dnmont  — 
Wish  to  leave  the  stage,  go  to  Oxford,  and  enter  the  Church  as  a  profession 

—  Life  at  a  boarding-house  —  Discussion  on  Wordsworth's  poetry  —  William 
Whewell  —  A  strange  history  —  "  Retribution  "  —  Accident  in  the  greenroom 

—  Brother  sails  for  India  —  His  character  —  "Rob  Roy" — Sonnet  by  Barry 
Cornwall  —  Charles  Lloyd  —  Introduction  to   Charles  Lamb  and  Taltburd  — 
Sheil's  "Balamira"  —  The  "Castle  of  Paluzzi" — Miss  O'Neill  in  Lady  Ran- 
dolph —  "  Cymbeline  "  —  Close  of  the  London  season. 

MY  summer  was  passed  in  acting,  among  others,  my  new  London 
characters,  Mentevole,  Gambia,  Valentio,  and  Pescara,  at  my  father's 
theaters  in  Newcastle,  Berwick,  Carlisle,  Dumfries,  and  Whitehaven. 
These  engagements  unhappily  did  not  pass  off  without  disagreements 
between  my  father  and  myself,  for  which,  although  with  indisputably 
just  grounds  of  complaint,  I  am  now  disposed  to  blame  myself  in  not 
extending  a  more  indulgent  consideration  for  the  modes  of  reasoning 
and  judging  upon  which  he  acted.  Some  weeks  of  leisure  were  spent 
at  my  old  favorite  resort,  Holy  Island,  and  with  my  sisters  at  a  little 
fishing  village  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Tweed,  whence  we  made  ex- 
cursions among  the  Cheviots,  and  to  Wark,  Norham,  and  other  places 
of  historical  and  legendary  interest.  From  Whitehaven  I  made  a 
trip  in  the  weekly  packet  to  the  Isle  of  Man,  where  I  spent  three 
days,  visiting  Douglas,  Peel,  Castleton,  surveying  the  Tynwald  Mount, 
whence  the  laws  of  the  island  are  proclaimed,  and  other  spots  inviting 


110  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XI 

the  traveler's  curiosity.  From  Carlisle,  where  I  parted  with  my 
father,  having  happily  accommodated  our  differences,  I  proceeded  en 
route  to  London,  as  far  as  Manchester.  On  the  road  I  fell  into  con- 
versation with  one  of  the  coach  passengers,  a  very  gentlemanlike  young 
man.  The  freemasonry  of  youth  and  youthful  spirits  is  quick  in  es- 
tablishing acquaintance,  and  as  we  met  and  messed  together  in  the 
same  coffee-room  at  the  Bridgewater  Arms  Hotel,  he  very  soon  gave 
me  his  confidence,  and  requested  my  services  in  the  discharge  of  rather 
a  delicate  embassy.  lie  held  a  commission  in  the  insurgent  force  of 
one  of  the  South  American  Spanish  colonies,  and  was  about  to  embark 
for  the  New  World.  But  he  had  contracted  an  engagement  with  a 
young  lady,  who,  against  her  guardian's  wishes,  had  promised  him  her 
hand,  and  they  had  since  prevailed  with  her  to  revoke  her  given  word. 
The  blank  this  made  in  the  picture  which  his  too  credulous  fancy  had 
painted,  of  something  dear  to  cling  to  and  strive  for  in  his  desperate 
enterprise,  was  naturally  dispiriting  and  mortifying  to  him.  The 
voyage  to  the  Pacific  would  have  been  to  him  a  pleasure  excursion 
with  the  poet's  song  upon  his  lips :  — 

"  Come  o'er  the  sen, 
Maiden,  with  me ; 

Mine  through  tempests,  storms,  and  snows. 
Seasons  may  roll, 
But  the  true  soul 

Burns  the  same  where'er  it  goes." 

And  he  could  confront  danger,  so  he  supposed,  with  still  more  ardent 
hope  and  more  resolute  confidence,  possessed  of  her;  but  to  forego 
the  promise  of  that  sustaining  solace  in  trials  and  partner  in  his  suc- 
cesses he  could  not  bring  down  his  sanguine  spirit.  The  fickle  fair 
one  lived  with  her  relations  in  Manchester,  and  his  earnest  request  to 
me  was  that  I  would  be  the  bearer  of  a  letter  to  her,  and  deliver  it 
into  her  hand.  My  representations  as  to  the  awkardness  of  such  a 
charge  being  delegated  to  a  person  a  stranger  to  all  parties  were  over- 
ruled ;  it  was  his  last  hope,  and,  although  desperate,  it  would  be  a 
consolation  to  him  to  have  it  tried.  Reasoning  was  vain  against  his 
importunity,  and,  though  sympathizing  with  him,  it  was  with  reluct- 
ance that  I  yielded  at  length  to  his  entreaties.  He  walked  with  me 
to  the  Oxford  Road,  and  pointed  out  the  house  to  me.  With  the  best 
face  I  could  put  on  I  went  on  my  strange  errand,  and,  inquiring  for 
the  young  lady,  was  ushered  into  the  awful  presence  of  an  aunt. 
Aunts,  from  Mrs.  Malaprop  downwards,  are  usually  regarded  by 
young  people  in  the  condition  of  my  friend  as  formidable  as  she-drag- 
ons. I  was  somewhat  taken  aback  by  her  severe  physiognomy ;  but 
calling  to  my  aid  my  most  bland  and  conciliatory  airs  and  most  per- 
suasive manner  of  address,  I  explained  the  purpose  of  my  visit,  and 
pleaded  the  cause  of  my  client  so  effectually  that  she  at  last  allowed 
the  young  lady,  who  entered  all  pale  and  trembling,  to  be  introduced. 
In  her  name  a  positive  refusal  to  see  her  disappointed  lover  was  given, 
which  she  did  not  contradict ;  but  she  was  permitted  to  receive  the 


1817-18.  THE   VALUE  OF  MONEY.  Ill 

letter  with  which  I  was  charged,  which  accordingly  I  placed  in  her 
hand,  and  with  the  best  bow  I  could  make  took  my  leave.  The  bar- 
ren issue  of  my  diplomacy  I  reported  to  my  friend,  who  was  waiting 
at  some  little  distance  in  a  state  of  great  anxiety.  He  was  a  fine 
young  fellow,  and  I  regretted  in  parting  with  him  to  think  that  I 
should  most  likely  never  see  him  again.  But,  we  had  our  separate 
routes  :  the  dreary  and  unhopeful  prospect  of  my  theatrical  career  lay 
before  me,  and  he  went  on  his  way  to  leave  probably  his  bones  on 
some  unrecorded  battle-field  in  Bolivia  or  Peru. 

At  Rugby  I  met  my  brother  Edward,  who  had  conveyed  our  sisters 
there,  and,  leaving  them  on  a  visit  with  our  friend  and  relation  Birch, 
we  took  our  places  outside  the  coach  for  London.  It  seems  very 
strange  now  to  me,  and  I  cannot  well  account  for  my  improvidence, 
in  remembering  that  we  had  not  the  price  of  our  dinners  in  our  pock- 
ets, and  that  we  walked  on  before  the  coach,  staying  our  hunger  with 
biscuits,  and  keeping  up  our  spirits  by  laughing  at  the  straits  to  which 
we  were  reduced.  I  was  indeed  the  general  paymaster ;  but  I  have 
since  been  made  sensible  that  the  state  of  my  affairs  ought  to  have 
been  very  different.  That  great  and  important  worldly  lesson,  the 
value  of  money,  I  had  not  been  taught  —  certainly  I  had  not  learned : 
a  lesson  on  which  in  after-life  I  have  often  most  painfully  reflected, 
the  neglect  of  it  having  on  many  occasions  prevented  me  from  doing 
all  I  might  have  done,  with  the  very  abundant  receipts  so  frequently 
at  my  command.  A  life-long  self-reproach  is  prepared  for  the  youth 
who  is  not  early  indoctrinated  in  the  principle  and  habits  of  a  liberal 
economy.  To  restrict  expenditure  to  the  half  of  an  income  will  make 
a  man  independent,  to  limit  it  to  a  third  will  make  him  rich :  and 
where  is  the  merit  of  generosity,  or  even  charity,  if  not  practiced  at 
the  cost  of  some  self-denial  ?  The  want  of  discretion  in  parting  with 
my  money  was  with  me  an  early  fault  too  long  uncorrected,  and 
might  have  proved  more  prejudicial  to  me  through  life  than  it  has 
done,  but  for  two  conservative  principles  that  my  father's  continual 
reiteration  had  rooted  in  my  mind :  a  dread  of  debt  and  a  horror  of 
gaming. 

On  reaching  London  after  a  few  days  we  found  very  good  accom- 
modation in  a  handsome  first-floor  at  a  boarding-house  in  Soho  Square, 
kept  by  a  Dr.  Barber,  the  master  of  what  still  retained  the  name  of 
Soho  School.  Here,  with  my  brother  as  my  guest,  my  salary  left  me 
a  sufficient  surplus,  and  I  entered  on  my  second  London  season.  What 
were  my  feelings  and  my  prospects  ?  There  was  nothing  bright  in 
the  prospect  before  me,  and  my  spirits  could  not  always  bear  up 
against  the  pressure  on  them.  No  gleam  of  promise  appeared  to  me 
in  the  future  to  inspire  my  exertions,  or  to  relieve  what  under  such 
depression  I  felt  to  be  the  drudgery  of  my  employment.  My  dissatis- 
faction with  my  position  was  not  lessened  by  the  species  of  character 
imposed  on  me  in  the  beginning  of  this  season.  Indeed  my  pride  was 
stung  to  the  quick  by  a  summons  to  the  reading  of  a  melodramatic 
after-piece,  in  which  I  was  to  appear.  As  I  now  look  back  on  these 


112  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XI. 

earlier  days  I  cannot  but  perceive  how  much  I  was  the  author  of  my 
own  disquietude,  what  a  world  of  annoyance  I  might  have  spared  my- 
self by  calmly  digesting  these  fancied  indignities,  regarding  them  as 
the  trifles  they  really  were.  But  "  trifles  light  as  air  "  are  constantly 
magnified  by  the  actor  jealous  of  his  reputation,  and  in  consequence 
often  unreasonably  captious,  into  grave  injustices.  The  piece  was  a 
translation  by  Reynolds,  as  bald  aii'l  bad  as  it  well  could  be.  My 
mortification  was  great,  but  my  rule  held  good  "  to  do  in  the  best 
manner  whatever  was  to  be  done."  Mr.  Farley,  the  melodramatic 
director  wanted  to  teach  me  how  to  play  the  part,  and  I  was  obliged 
to  let  him  understand  that  "  if  I  did  it,  it  must  be  in  my  own  way." 
The  melodrama  was  called  "  The  Father  and  his  Children,"  my  part 
Dumont ;  and  I  had  so  far  satisfaction  in  its  performance,  October  the 
25th  (1817),  that  the  applause  and  tears  of  the  audience  gave  evidence 
of  my  ability  to  take  higher  ground  than  to  be  the  exponent  and 
apologist  of  such  trash. 

I  now  began  seriously  to  meditate  some  mode  of  escape  from  this 
distasteful  and  unpromising  pursuit,  and  exchange  it  for  one  of  greater 
utility,  which  would  bring  me  more  content.  The  only  condition  that 
could  reconcile  me  to  the  profession  I  had  adopted  was  to  hold  its 
highest  walks,  and  from  this  present  appearances  seemed  to  debar  me. 
There  was  at  the  same  time  little  congeniality  of  taste  or  sentiment 
between  the  frequenters  of  the  greenroom  and  myself,  the  conversa- 
tion there  being  generally  of  a  puerile  and  uninteresting  character, 
and  not  unfrequently  objectionable  on  other  grounds.  I  was  im- 
patient of  my  position,  and  a  prey  to  uneasy  and  fretful  apprehensions, 
unwisely  "  casting  the  fashion  of  uncertain  evils,"  instead  of  resting 
my  faith  on  the  ultimate  success  of  resolute  endeavor.  My  wish  was 
to  make  the  trial  of  my  talents  in  some  other  profession,  and  the 
Church  offered  me  apparently  facilities  for  the  attempt.  There  was 
little  or  no  doubt  among  my  old  school-fellows  that  I  could  with  ease 
take  my  degree  at  Oxford  (a  much  less  arduous  ordeal  then  than 
now),  and  a  friendly  proposal  to  advance  me  the  amount  requisite  for 
my  residence  there  seemed  to  open  the  path  directly  for  me.  But 
much  was  to  be  taken  into  account,  much  to  be  calculated  before  I 
could  commit  myself  to  so  weighty  an  obligation.  In  the  mean  time 
my  duties  had  their  claim  upon  me.  On  the  occasion  of  Charles 
Kemble's  illness  the  part  of  Komeo  was  sent  to  me,  and  the  applause 
when  the  curtain  fell  was  so  enthusiastic,  that  Harris  immediately  an- 
-  nounced  me  for  its  repetition  on  the  following  Monday.  The  fates 
were  in  this  instance  adverse  ;  I  was  confined  to  my  bed  and  unable  to 
appear. 

My  studies,  in  company  with  my  brother,  of  my  old  school  classics, 
and  of  English  poetry,  employed  much  of  the  leisure  time  that  the 
theater  left  me ;  and  to  Milton,  Thomson,  Pope,  Dryden,  and  others, 
I  now  added  the  perusal  of  a  poet  whose  works  have  ever  since  been 
constant  companions  of  my  idle  hours.  The  common  table,  at  which 
the  boarders  in  the  house,  with  our  chance  visitors,  assembled,  gave  us 


1817-18.  LIFE  AT  A  BOARDING-HOUSE.  113 

some  agreeable  acquaintances.  One  evening's  conversation  fixed  itself 
in  ray  memory  :  the  subject  was  Wordsworth,  against  whom  the  voices 
of  all  at  table,  except  one,  were  upraised  ;  and  with  the  flippancy  of 
youth  and  ignorance  (for  I  had  not  read  his  poems)  I  joined  in  the 
depreciating  chorus,  objecting  in  the  spirit  of  the  "  Edinburgh  Re- 
view," and  quoting  Byron's  derisive  lines  in  his  dispraise.  The  poet's 

champion,  however  (whose  name  was  G ,  and  whose  subsequent 

history  was  a  most  lamentable  one),  was  not  to  be  silenced  by  the 
arguments  or  vehemence  of  his  opponents.  He  tried,  but  in  vain,  to 
recall  the  Sonnet  on  Westminster  Bridge  ;  he  could  do  no  more  than 
describe  it,  repeating  its  last  grand  line  —  "And  all  this  mighty  heart 
is  lying  still !  "  The  merit  of  this  was  disputed  contemptuously  by 
the  rest  of  the  party,  but  on  me  it  made  so  deep  an  impression  that  I 
purchased  the  poet's  works,  and,  reading  them,  was  converted  to  an 
enthusiastic  love  of  his  writings,  ever  after  being  eager  to  acknowledge 
my  gratitude  to  him  for  having  made  me  in  some  respects  a  wiser,  and 
excited  in  me  the  aspiration  to  become  a  better  man. 

On  another  evening  the  visitors  of  one  of  our  boarders,  a  young 
clergyman  recently  ordained,  dined  with  us.  One  of  them,  a  gentle 
and  melancholy  looking  man,  of  very  pleasing  address,  and  with  a  mind 
of  evidently  a  very  superior  stamp,  was  most  engaging  in  the  modesty 
with  which  he  advanced  his  opinions:  his  name  was  Sleigh.  The 
other  was  clownish  in  his  build  and  deportment  and  brusque  in  his 
manners,  overbearing  and  dogmatic  to  absolute  rudeness  in  the  super- 
ciliousness of  his  remarks  and  his  apparent  contempt  for  the  under- 
standings of  those  around  him.  He  was  reported  to  have  just  taken 
his  senior  wrangler's  degree  with  unprecedented  eclat,  and  quite  an- 
swered to  the  idea  of  one  whose  world  had  been  limited  to  the  schools 
and  quadrangles  of  his  university.  He  has  since  deservedly  attained 
the  highest  reputation,  and  is  now  the  Master  of  Trinity.1 

The  usual  dinner-party  at  Dr.  Barber's,  occasionally  reinforced  by 
the  invited  guests  of  the  boarders,  consisted  of  the  Rev.  E.  Reed,  Mr. 
Brabazon,  an  Irish  gentleman,  the  Doctor  and  his  son,  another 

boarder  whose  name  I  forget,  my  brother,  myself,  and  G .  The 

singular  character  and  career  of  this  man  cannot  well  pass  unnoticed. 
Possessed  of  an  agreeable  person,  though  with  something  of  an  Indian 
tinge  in  his  complexion,  an  easy  and  self-confident  address,  that  placed 
him  at  once  on  familiar  terms  with  the  generality  of  men,  considerable 
tact,  and  unfailing  readiness  in  conversation,  he  soon  became  popular 
with  his  acquaintance.  He  had  read  much,  was  a  good  speaker,  ex- 
tremely fluent,  and,  by  dint  of  unscrupulous  effrontery  in  making  his 
assertions,  made  his  reading  tell  for  more  than  it  was  really  worth. 
He  was  richly  gifted,  except  in  the  great  desideratum,  principle.  He 
pressed  his  intimacy  on  all,  but  I  could  never  relax  a  certain  degree 
of  reserve  towards  him,  though  in  unavoidably  frequent  communica- 

i  Dr.  Whewell,  late  Master  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.     He  was  in  fact 
Second  Wrangler  in  1816.  —  ED. 
8 


114  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XI. 

tion  with  him.  His  story,  as  it  subsequently  became  known,  was  a 
strange  one : 

He  was  a  native  of  New  York,  where  at  the  early  age  of  fifteen  or 
sixteen  lie  had  been  convicted  of  forgery,  and  was  working  as  a  con- 
vict in  the  streets  of  his  native  city,  where  he  was  seen  by  Price,  the 
manager  of  the  Park  Theater.  During  the  war  with  England  he  con- 
trived to  make  his  escape,  and,  landing  in  this  country,  he  found  at 
Plymouth  a  compassionate  friend  in  a  Mr.  Ball,  who  afforded  him 
refuge  and  hospitality,  and  after  concealing  him  for  some  time,  as- 
sisted him  to  evade  the  alien  act,  then  in  force,  and  reach  London  in 
safety.  Here  he  procured  employment  as  messenger  on  the  "  States- 
man "  newspaper,  to  which  Mr.  Burdon,  a  Northumberland  gentleman 
of  large  fortune,  was  a  frequent  contributor.  In  his  capacity  of  mes- 
senger, having  one  morning  brought  Mr.  Burdon  the  proof-sheet  of  a 
recent  contribution,  he  was  questioned  by  that  gentleman  on  the  au- 
thorship of  an  article  in  the  paper  that  had  particularly  attracted  his 

attention.     To  his  great  astonishment  G informed  him  that  the 

article  in  question  was  written  by  himself.  Mr.  Burdon,  one  of  those 
romantic  characters  more  frequently  met  with  in  fiction  than  in  real 
life,  adopted  the  youth  into  his  family,  and  entered  him  at  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge,  with  a  liberal  allowance.  But  his  wayward  dis- 
position counteracted  the  intentions  of  his  benefactor.  His  extrava- 
gance obliged  him  to  quit  Trinity  College  for  Emmanuel,  and  his 
haughty  and  insolent  assumption  in  Mr.  Burden's  house  became  intol- 
erable to  the  family.  Still,  in  pursuance  of  his  wish  to  advance  him 
in  life,  Mr.  Burdon  gave  him  a  set  of  chambers  in  the  Temple,  with 
adequate  means  to  continue  his  studies  for  the  Bar.  But  he  ceased  to 
occupy  them  during  the  winter  of  1817,  and  became  a  lodger  and 
boarder  at  Dr.  Barber's.  It  was  here  we  became  acquainted.  He 
made  many,  and  some  very  good,  acquaintances,  but  his  life  in  Lon- 
don was  a  course  of  irregularities.  His  visits  to  gambling-houses,  the 
hells  of  St.  James's  were  frequent,  and  often  replenished  his  failing 
purse.  For  such  a  character  he  was  extraordinarily  communicative. 
One  day,  in  an  unusually  grave  mood,  he  abruptly  addressed  me : 
"Macready,  my  patron  is  dead.  He  sent  for  me  yesterday?  and  I  saw 
him  in  his  bed.  He  told  me  he  had  left  me  one  hundred  pounds,  and 
said  '  I  hoped  to  have  lived  to  have  seen  you  a  great  and  good  man  : 
I  shall  not  live  ;  and  if  I  did,  I  should  not  see  you  either  great  or 
good.'" 

With  the  £100  bequeathed  to  him,  and  with  what  else  he  could  col- 
lect, G set  out  for  Aix-la-Chapelle,  where  the  Congress  was  then 

sitting.  Here  in  two  nights  at  the  gaming-table  he  won  £1,900,  with 
which  he  returned  to  England,  and  investing  a  portion  in  a  purchase 
of  books  (soon  afterwards  sold),  and  placing  the  rest  in  a  banker's 
hands,  he  set  out  on  a  tour  through  France,  Germany,  and  Italy,  re- 
turning in  a  few  years  without  a  sixpence,  all  his  winnings  having  long 
since  been  engulfed  in  play.  In  London  he  led  a  precarious,  dissi- 
pated, and  discreditable  life,  writing  occasionally  for  some  obscure 


1817-18.  ACCIDENT  IN  THE   GREENROOM.  115 

newspaper,  and  borrowing  money  of  every  one  of  his  acquaintances, 
until  he  had  .completely  exhausted  the  patience  of  all.  I  thus  lost 
sight  of  him  for  some  time,  but  his  evil  genius  after  some  years  brought 
him  again  under  my  notice. 

On  the  1st  of  January,  1818,  a  new  tragedy  was  produced  at  Covent 
Garden.  The  author,  John  Dillon,  a  very  young  man,  was  the  libra- 
rian of  Dr.  Simmons  of  Paddington,  famous  for  a  very  splendid  collec- 
tion of  valuable  books.  With  great  promise  of  dramatic  power,  as 
evinced  in  this  his  first  essay,  he  wisely  left  the  poet's  "  idle  trade  "  for 
the  more  lucrative  pursuits  of  commerce,  and  became  partner  in  the 
well-known  firm  of  Morrison,  Dillon,  and  Co.  His  play  was  called 
"  Retribution,"  the  chief  weight  of  which,  in  a  very  powerful  char- 
acter, Varanes,  was  on  Young's  shoulders.  Miss  O'Neill,  Charles 
Kemble,  Terry,  and  myself  were  his  supporters,  the  villain  of  the 
story  falling  of  course  to  me.  It  was  acted  nine  nights,  and  tended 
to  establish  me  more  firmly  in  public  opinion  as  the  undisputed  repre- 
sentative of  the  disagreeable  ;  but  I  look  back  on  it  with  pleasure,  as 
the  source  of  a  friendship  with  one  whose  talents,  however  much  en- 
titled to  respect,  are  surpassed  in  his  general  estimation  and  by  higher 
and  more  endearing  qualities.  It  was  on  one  of  the  nights  of  this 
play's  performance  that  I  had  the  mischance  to  break  the  large  pier- 
glass  in  the  greenroom,  in  those  days  above  £100  value.  In  swinging 
round  a  heavy  battle-axe  on  my  shoulder,  as  I  was  preparing  to  go  on 
the  stage,  the  metal  head  flew  off,  and,  dashing  against  the  glass,  shiv- 
ered it  in  every  direction.  It  was  quite  a  stirring  event  for  the  quid- 
nuncs of  the  theater,  and  it  would  have  been  an  amusing  sight,  had  it 
not  been  a  heavy  responsibility  to  myself,  to  see  the  rush  of  the  play- 
ers, male  and  female,  into  the  greenroom,  when  the  act  drop  fell,  to 
behold  the  wreck  I  had  made.  The  fault  was  really  the  servant's,  or 
property-man's,  as  he  is  called ;  but  in  the  morning  I  wrote  to  Mr. 
Harris,  expressing  my  readiness  to  undergo  my  liability  for  the  acci- 
dent. He  behaved  with  great  consideration  and  liberality,  limiting  my 
dues  to  only  a  proportion  of  the  expense  incurred  in  repairing  the 
damage  done. 

My  speculations  on  a  change  of  life  now  came  to  a  dead  stop.  The 
officers  and  privates  of  the  first  battalion  of  the  30th  Regiment,  who 
had  been  serving  with  the  second  previous  to  its  being  disbanded,  re- 
ceived orders  to  join  their  corps  in  India.  My  brother's  sole  chance 
of  rising  in  the  service  was  by  procuring  an  exchange  to  full  pay,  and 
accompanying  his  late  comrades.  For  such  an  object  there  could  be 
no  hesitation  in  availing  myself  of  the  means  within  my  reach ;  and 
accordingly  I  borrowed  of  my  friend  Jeston,  who  had  offered  me  the 
loan  for  my  proposed  Oxford  residence,  the  sum  necessary  to  replace 
my  brother  in  his  old  regiment.  As  it  was  only  by  my  continuance 
on  the  stage  that  I  could  hope  to  repay  it,  all  thoughts  of  venturing 
on  any  other  calling  were  of  necessity  abandoned.  The  best  arrange- 
ments we  could  make  were  soon  in  train,  and  with  as  good  a  kit  (to 
use  the  military  term)  as  our  narrow  finances  would  procure,  my 


116  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CIIAI-.  XI. 

brother  prepared  for  his  voyage.  After  a  hurried  visit  to  Rugby, 
where  he  took  leave  of  my  sisters  and  our  good  friend  Birch,  leaving 
his  heart  behind  him,  he  returned  to  town,  and  proceeded  with  me  to 
Gravesend,  where  the  good  ship  the  London,  a  first-rate  East-India- 
man,  was  lying  off.  Much  had  occurred  since  his  return  from  the 
Continent,  both  in  our  family  and  elsewhere,  to  strengthen  the  ties  of 
affection  which  from  our  early  boyhood  had  always  bound  us,  and  he 
stood  in  relation  to  me  now  as  the  dearest  friend  I  had  on  earth.  It 
was  therefore  with  a  heavy  heart  I  went  on  board  with  him  to  see  his 
berth  and  inspect  his  accommodations.  Our  evening,  a  very  sad  one, 
was  spent  on  shore  at  the  hotel,  and  the  next  morning,  February  9th, 
with  a  few  words  we  parted  for  an  absence  of  many  years,  he  to  the 
ship,  and  I  to  my  duties  at  Covent  Garden  Theater. 

Our  mutual  attachment  had  something  of  romance  in  its  earnestness 
and  devotedness,  though  differing  relatively  in  each  other  so  far,  that 
he  looked  up  to  me  for  counsel  and  guidance  in  our  companionship  and 
correspondence.  Admiration  of  many  points  in  his  character  mingles 
with  the  love  I  bore  him ;  and  if  I  must  admit  occasional  flaws  on  its 
even  surface,  they  must  for  the  most  part  be  attributed  to  laws  of  con- 
duct self-imposed  and  carried  to  extremes.  He  was  of  the  very  stuff 
to  make  a  soldier :  brave,  resolute,  clear-sighted,  indefatigably  indus- 
trious in  all  pertaining  to  his  profession,  and  ambitious  to  a  degree  of 
weakness.  Whatever  he  undertook  he  would  master,  at  whatever 
cost  of  labor  or  endurance  ;  in  any  competition  he  would  be  first :  he 
was  the  boldest  rider,  the  best  horseman,  the  truest  shot  in  his  regi- 
ment ;  his  reading  was  extensive ;  his  judgment  penetrating  and  clear ; 
abstinent  and  self-denying  in  his  personal  gratifications,  he  was  free 
and  bounteous  to  others,  and  so  guarded  and  circumspect,  that  I  be- 
lieve I  may  unhesitatingly  say  he  never  lost  a  friend.  From  all  under 
whose  notice  he  came  —  Lord  Hill,  Lord  Hardinge,  Sir  Colquhoun 
Grant,  and  others  —  he  received  the  highest  encomiums.  He  was,  in 
few  words,  a  truly  good  man,  and  only  wanted  the  opportunity  to  have 
been  a  great  one. 

My  journey  back  to  London  was  dreary  and  dispiriting,  and  my 
lodgings  had  a  very  desolate  look  as  I  now  felt  myself  their  lonely  oc- 
cupant. For  my  night-work  at  the  theater  I  had  less  zest  than  usual, 
as  may  readily  be  supposed,  when  this  evening  another  of  those  un- 
palatable mixtures  was  given  me  to  swallow,  which  caused  me  so  much 
disgust,  and  which  certainly  prejudiced  me  in  public  opinion.  But  re- 
monstrance would  have  been  useless,  and  I  could  not  now  afford  to 
pay  the  forfeit  for  non-compliance,  therefore  I  went  doggedly  through 
the  rehearsal  of  another  of  Reynold's  trashy  melodramatic  after-pieces, 
the  "  Illustrious  Traveler,"  and  in  a  despairing  mood  gave  to  its  per- 
formance, February  3d,  all  the  support  in  my  power.  My  spirits  were 
at  the  lowest  ebb,  and  only  derived  respite  from  reflecting  on  my 
brother's  happier  destiny. 

His  voyage  was  a  favorable  one,  checkered  only  by  one  serious  ac- 
cident After  passing  the  Cape  the  ship  was  discovered  to  be  on  fire, 


1817-18.  "ROB  ROY."  117 

and  on  this  occasion  the  steadiness  and  presence  of  mind  exhibited  by 
Edward  called  forth  the  warmest  thanks  of  Captain  Campbell,  of  whom 
he  made  a  friend  by  his  conduct.  Unavoidable  expenses  in  joining  his 
regiment  in  India  compelled  him  to  incur  serious  debts.  Against  the 
friendly  expostulation  of  his  Colonel«and  others  of  the  officers  he  ab- 
sented himself  for  some  months  from  the  mess-table,  till  by  a  rigid  and 
systematic  economy  he  had  freed  himself  from  all  his  engagements,  and 
stood  unembarrassed  before  the  world.  I  had  reason  to  be  proud  of 
him  and  of  the  faith  he  held  in  me ;  which  seemed  unbounded.  In 
the  endeavor  to  save  the  life  of  a  brother-officer,  who  was  bathing  with 
him  in  a  tank  in  India,  he  very  narrowly  escaped  drowning ;  and  in 
his  desperate  struggle  to  reach  the  shore  with  his  helpless  companion, 
the  thought  that  rushed  across  his  mind  with  the  prospect  of  death 
before  him,  was  in  his  own  words,  "  I  know  William  would  approve 
what  I  am  doing."  I  may  truly  apply  the  Psalmist's  words  to  him : 
"  My  brother  Jonathan,  very  pleasant  hast  thou  been  unto  me :  thy 
love  to  me  was  wonderful,  passing  the  love  of  women." 

The  novel  of  "  Rob  Roy  "  had  been  published  in  the  previous  De- 
cember, and  was  immediately  pounced  upon  by  the  play-wrights  of  the 
theaters,  of  whom  Pocock  was  first  in  the  field.  Mr.  J.  Soane  had  the 
title,  but  I  fancy  nothing  more,  to  a  piece  which  was  at  a  later  date 
produced  in  Drury  Lane.  Pocock's  drama,  called  "  Rob  Roy  Mc- 
Gregor, or  Auld  Lang  Syne,"  was  read  in  the  greenroom  of  Covent 
Garden  at  the  latter  end  of  February,  and  acted  on  the  12th  of  March 
(1818).  Several  of  the  prominent  incidents  are  compacted  together 
in  this  dramatic  version  in  a  sufficiently  workmanlike  manner,  and, 
with  the  recollections  from  the  novel  to  piece  it  out,  the  story,  so  far 
as  Rob  Roy  is  an  agent,  runs  pleasantly  on  without  any  very  percep- 
tible hiatus  or  want  of  connection.  Many  popular  Scotch  airs  were 
introduced,  and,  sung  by  Miss  Stephens  and  Sinclair,  added  to  the 
gratification  of  the  audience,  though  the  reader  of  the  original  work 
would  lose  in  them  all  trace  beyond  the  names  of  the  characters  of 
Diana  Vernon  and  Francis  Osbalbistone.  Listen  in  Baillie  Jarvie  was 
humorous  in  the  extreme,  Tokely  in  the  Dougal  Creature  was  a  won- 
derful savage,  and  Blanchard  was  dry  and  precise  as  Mr.  Owen  him- 
self. Rob  Roy  was  cast  to  me,  and,  though  not  the  lofty  tragedy  to 
which  I  aspired,  was  yet  welcome  to  me  for  the  humor,  pathos,  and 
passion  that  gleam  throughout  it  and  diversify  its  scenes,  and  for  the 
rude  heroism  that  elevates  and  gives  something  of  a  poetical  character 
to  the  Highland  cateran.  I  studied  it  from  the  original,  and  enjoyed 
my  full  share  of  the  success  the  drama  obtained. 

The  effect  of  the  performance  was  soon  felt  by  me  in  the  manifest 
growth  of  public  favor.  Latterly  there  had  been  a  disposition  to  iden- 
tify my  powers,  which  were  not  denied,  with  the  representation  only 
of  the  worst  passions,  and  it  was  to  this  character  I  was  first  indebted 
for  the  opportunity  of  breaking  the  malignant  charm  that  seemed  to 
weigh  upon  me  and  contract  my  sphere  of  action.  If  what  my  eulo- 
gists called  "  my  genius "  could  not  yet  "  walk  abroad  in  its  own 


118  MACREADY' S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XL 

majesty,"  it  could  at  least  peep  out,  and  give  signs  of  something  more 
akin  to  humanity  than  was  believed  of  it.  In  the  course  of  time  some 
testimonies  of  the  effect  of  this  performance  reached  me,  and  I  can 
well  remember  the  stimulus  my  hopes  received  from  the  opinion  ex- 
pressed by  a  poet  distinguished  ^nd  popular  as  Barry  Cornwall  was, 
who,  next  year,  published  in  the  "  Literary  Gazette "  the  following 
"  Sonnet,  written  after  seeing  Mr.  Mucready  in  Hob  Roy :  " 

"  Macready,  thon  hast  pleased  me  much  :  till  now 
(And  yet  I  would  not  thy  fine  powers  arraign) 
I  did  not  think  thou  hadst  that  livelier  vein, 
Nor  that  clear  open  spirit  upon  thy  brow. 
Come,  I  will  crown  thee  with  a  poet's  bough ; 
Mine  is  an  humble  branch  :  yet  not  in  vain 
Giv'n  if  the  few  I  sing  shall  not  disdain 
To  wear  the  little  wreaths  that  I  bestow. 
There  is  a  buoyant  air,  a  passionate  tone 
That  breathes  about  thee,  and  lights  up  thine  eye 
With  fire  and  freedom;  it  becomes  thee  well. 
It  is  the  bursting  of  a  good  seed,  sown 
Beneath  a  cold  and  artificial  sky  — 
'T  is  genius  overmastering  its  spell." 

The  sympathy  this  character  awakened  was  still  more  strongly 
stamped  upon  my  memory  by  a  singular  occurrence  of  a  little  later 
date,  which  may  well  find  its  place  here.  The  post  one  morning 
brought  me  a  letter,  of  which  the  following  is  a  transcript : 

"  SIB,  —  A  person  who  witnessed  on  the  evening  of  the  llth  inst.  your  portrait- 
ure of  the  noble  and  romantic  Scottish  chieftain  Rob  Roy  cannot  withstand  the 
impulse  that  leads  him  to  transmit  to  you  a  few  lines,  which  he  would  fain  have 
you  consider  as  the  involuntary  effect  of  unfeigned  admiration  of  your  powers, 
and  not  sent  under  the  presumptuous  pretension  of  being  a  tribute  worthy  of 
them.  "  I  am,  Sir,  yours, 

"  With  much  gratitude  and  admiration, 

"12th  June.  "C.  D. 

" SONNET 

To  Mr.  Macready  on  seeing  him  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre  in  the  character  of 
Bob  Roy  Macgregor  Campbell. 

"Macready,  thou  who  know'st  with  magic  art 

To  pierce  the  inmost  chambers  of  the  breast, 
Frown  not  if  Gratitude  her  thanks  impart ! 

Thou  with  such  skill  Rob  Roy  didst  manifest 
As  Sire,  as  Husband,  and  as  high  of  heart, 

That  one  whose  brain  was  dry,  —  whose  dearest  rest 
Was  death's  pale  dwelling,  —  he  hath  felt  it  start, 

Nature's  first  gush  for  years,  —  at  thy  behest. 
May'st  thou  be  happy !  and  this  nameless  thing, 

Who  not  commemorates,  but  thanks  thy  powers 
(Thou  like  Macgrcgor's  self  impassioning). 

Oh,  could  Fate  bring  thee  to  his  withered  bowers, 
Methinks  youth's  rose  long  sered  once  more  would  spring, 

And  flattering  visions  rise  of  happier  hours." 

It  was  not  likely  that  an  address  in  so  grave  a  strain,  bearing  every 
semblance  of  truth  and  soberness  in  the  description  of  the  writer's 


1817-18.  LLOYD  AND  THE  LAMBS.  119 

mental  suffering,  should  fail  to  touch  me.  My  interest  was  excited, 
my  curiosity  aroused.  How  relief  could  be  administered  to  a  real  ill 
by  the  mere  "  cunning  of  the  scene  "  was  a  problem  to  me,  and  as 
months  passed  away  I  had  ceased  to  expect  any  elucidation  of  the 
mystery ;  when  a  volume  of  poems  was  brought  to  me  with  a  letter 
from  the  author,  Charles  Lloyd,  recalling  to  me  the  sonnet  addressed 
to  me,  and  requesting  my  acceptance  of  the  book  just  published.  I 
was  thus  aware  that  it  was  the  translator  of  Alfieri,  the  author  of 
several  original  works,  and  the  friend  of  Charles  Lamb,  who  had  been 
my  anonymous  correspondent.  A  friendship,  which  lasted  through  his 
life,  speedily  grew  out  of  the  acquaintance  which  this  compliment  in- 
duced. I  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  his  lodgings,  spending  many  even- 
ings in  delightful  intercourse  with  him  and  his  most  amiable  and  ac- 
complished wife.  Under  his  roof  I  first  became  acquainted  with  Lamb, 
and  that  sister  to  whom  his  brotherly  devotion  made  his  life  one  course 
of  self-denying  heroism.  She  was  most  intelligent  and  gentle  in  man- 
ners. Here,  too,  took  place  my  introduction  to  Talfourd,  who  has  so 
eloquently  told  the  story  of  their  woes.  It  was  from  Lloyd  himself 
that  I  received  the  melancholy  account  of  his  sufferings.  For  upwards 
of  four  years  he  had  been  afflicted  with  a  most  extraordinary  malady, 
a  torpor  of  feeling,  and,  as  it  were,  a  numbness  of  his  faculties,  that  all 
the  medical  advice  to  which  he  had  resorted  had  been  unable  to  relax 
or  to  dispel.  He  was  impenetrable  to  the  efforts  of  skill  or  the  bland- 
ishments of  affection.  All  intellectual  pursuits  had  been  discontinued, 
and,  as  his  sonnet  intimates,  life  itself  had  become  wearisome.  By 
some  inexplicable  chance  he  strayed  one  night,  he  scarce  knew  why, 
into  the  pit  of  Covent  Garden  Theater,  where  the  drama  of  "  Rob 
Roy  "  was  being  acted.  He  became  absorbed  in  the  interest  of  Scott's 
romantic  story,  and,  in  the  scene  where  the  outlawed  chief  dashes  away 
the  tears  from  his  eyes,  poor  Lloyd  felt  his  own  fast  trickling  down 
his  cheeks.  The  rock  was  struck,  and  the  gushing  stream  was  a  new 
spring  of  life  to  him.  So  he  felt  it,  and  testified  to  me,  as  the  instru- 
ment of  his  restoration,  the  most  affectionate  regard.  But  some  lines 
of  his  own,  extracted  from  a  poem  addressed  to  me  some  time  after  as 
"  expressive  of  the  gratitude  of  the  author,"  will  describe  his  previous 
state  of  mind  and  the  revolution  it  underwent  more  faithfully  than  any 
words  of  mine : 

«  TO  W.  C.  MACREADY,  ESQ. 

"  Whence  is  that  unaccustomed  gush,  which  steals 

From  eyes  that  so  long  in  their  sockets  burned  ? 
Whence,  that  a  '  heart  as  dry  as  dust '  now  feels 

That  for  which  fruitlessly  it  long  hath  yearned  ? 
The  spell  that  wrought  this  miracle  reveals 

Most  complete  influence  ;  in  it  are  discerned 
The  visions  of  romance,  and  dear  appeals 

To  dreams,  from  loftiest  forms  of  thine,  0  Nature,  learned ! 

"  This  potent  spell  was  sped  in  its  deep  aim 

By  transcendental  powers  !  and  thus  I  wept 
Tears,  healing,  yet  impassioned  ;  of  whose  name 
Alone  for  years  the  memory  I  had  kept. 


120  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XL 

From  that  clay  forth  (oh  !  may  the  omen  shame 

Fear's  ghastlier  presentiments  !)  up-leaped 
With  natural  yearnings,  and  with  heart  of  flame, 

The  Muse  from  voiceless  trance,  in  which  she  long  had  slept. 

"Four  years  had  slept  on  in  unbroken  trance  — 

New  thoughts  came  o'er  me,  wishes,  feelings  new  — 
And  Nature's  scenes,  which  showed  before  my  glance 

Like  icc-incrusted  forms  when  with  one  hue 
Winter  o'er  mount  and  moorland  doth  advance, 

Beamed  forth  with  healthier  colors  to  my  view, 
And  all  assumed  a  kindlier  countenance, 

Light  from  new  loopholes  gleamed,  and  the  cheered  mind  peeped  through. 

"  Now,  whom  beneath  the  providence  of  heaven 

(For  as  to  anything,  by  men  who  own 
A  God  above,  can  name  of  cause  be  given 

To  that  not  straightway  issuing  from  His  throne) 
Must  I  call  cause  of  this  ?     The  chain  was  riven 

That  numbed  my  heart-strings,  by  thy  suasivc  tone, 
Gifted  Macready  !     May  I  be  forgiven 

Thus  to  thee  rendering  back  with  gratitude  thine  own  ?  " 

I  heard  with  deep  regret  of  his  death  some  years  after  in  Paris, 
whither  he  had  removed,  and  where  the  cloud  had  again  settled  on  his 
mind. 

The  favor  with  which  my  personation  of  Rob  Roy  was  received 
revived  my  hopes  and  encouraged  me  to  believe  that  with  the  patient 
resolve  to  "  bide  my  time,"  that  time  would  come,  and  the  place  I 
claimed  would  be  accorded  to  me.  The  prospect  of  such  an  issue 
seemed  to  brighten  before  me  with  each  new  subject  submitted  to  me. 
In  my  friend  Sheil's  tragedy  of  "  Balamira,  or  the  Fall  of  Tunis,"  pro- 
duced April  22  (1818)  and  supported  by  Young,  Charles  Kemble, 
Miss  O'Neill,  Terry,  and  myself,  the  character  intrusted  to  me,  Sinano, 
a  Venetian  noble  turned  renegade  under  the  name  of  Amurath,  was 
considered  the  most  effective  in  the  play.  The  "  Morning  Herald  " 
made  use,  in  criticising  the  performance,  of  the  expression,  "  Mr.  Ma- 
cready in  the  part  of  Amurath  has  made  a  giant  stride  in  his  profes- 
sion," and  Sheil  borrowed  the  phrase  in  the  acknowledgment  of  his 
obligations  to  the  actors  prefixed  to  the  published  work.1 

About  this  time  the  affairs  of  my  poor  host,  Dr.  Barber,  were  so 
embarrassed  that  it  became  necessary  to  change  my  abode ;  and  I 
prudently  took  less  expensive  lodgings  in  Foley  Place,  where  out  of 
my  weekly  salary  I  saved  sufficient  to  discharge  half  my  debt  to  Jeston 
before  the  end  of  the  season,  and  before  the  summer's  close  I  paid  the 
remainder,  accompanying  the  liquidation  with  a  handsome  piece  of 
plute,  in  lieu  of  interest.  It  might  have  been  expected  that  my  pro- 
fessional successes  would  have  procured  me  exemption  from  any  further 
drudgery  in  melodramatic  after-pieces,  in  which  I  felt  my  appearance  a 

1  From  the  Times.  —  "  The  characters  arc  well  sustained,  and  that  of  Amurath 
in  particular  is  marked  by  some  touches  of  scorn  and  hatred  which  display  the 
hand  of  a  master.  Macready  quite  surpassed  himself  in  the  cool,  remorseless 
villain  regarding  his  victim  with  the  smile  of  a  demon  ;  we  could  never  have 
believed  him  so  effective." 


1818-19.  CLOSE  OF  THE  LONDON  SEASON.  121 

degradation  ;  but  the  lees  of  the  distasteful  cup  were  to  be  drained  in 
a  piece  called  the  "  Castle  of  Paluzzi,  or  the  Extorted  Oath,"  May 
27th  (1818),  founded  on  one  of  the  causes  celebres  which  had  lately 
been  one  of  the  current  subjects  of  conversation,  the  murder  of  Fualdes, 
and  the  conviction  of  the  assassins  by  the  evidence  of  Madame  Man- 
son,  "  qu'un  hasard  fort  extraordinaire  avait  rendu  temoin  du  crime 
chez  la  femme  Bancal,"  who  kept  a  house  of  ill-fame.  Terry  had  a 
part  in  the  piece,  and  one  night  when,  standing  at  the  side-scene,  I  was 
inveighing  against  the  taste  and  policy  of  compelling  us  to  expend  our 
talents  on  such  rubbish,  in  his  brusque  way  he  ejaculated,  "  Why  the 

d then  do  you  take  such  pains  for  its  success  ?  "     I  had  no  answer 

to  give.  Having  taken  the  part,  it  was  due  to  the  author,  the  man- 
agement, and  myself,  to  present  it  to  the  best  advantage.  The  season 
was  now  approaching  its  close.  Miss  O'Neill  selected  for  her  benefit, 
June  2d,  Home's  tragedy  of  "  Douglas,"  in  which,  as  Lady  Randolph, 
she  ventured  unadvisedly  on  a  character  unsuited  alike  to  her  juvenile 
appearance  and  her  style  of  acting.  Charles  Kemble  acted  Douglas 
very  gallantly.  Young  was  very  good  in  Old  Norval,  and  I  had  every 
reason  to  be  satisfied  with  the  revival  of  the  play  from  the  credit  I 
obtained  in  the  part  of  Grlenalvon.  For  Young's  benefit,  June  5th,  as 
an  especial  favor,  I  acted  Pizarro  in  Sheridan's  version  of  Kotzebue's 
drama.  Miss  Booth's  benefit,  June  30th,  gave  me  the  part  of  Posthu- 
mus  in  "  Cymbeline,"  which,  as  a  Shakespearean  character  added  to 
my  list,  was  firm  ground  to  me.  Young  was  the  lachimo.  In  a  re- 
view of  the  results  of  this  season,  which  ended  with  the  play  of  Rob 
Roy,  July  IGth,  I  could  not  be  blind  to  the  fact  that  my  position  was 
improved.  It  was  incontestable  that  I  had  won  upon  opinion  both  in 
the  public  voice  and  in  the  estimation  of  the  manager  and  the  actors  ; 
and  regaining  confidence  in  determination  of  will,  and  putting  faith  in 
the  power  of  resolution,  I  looked  more  cheerily  and  hopefully  into  the 
future.  "  Possunt  quia  posse  videntnr."  1 


CHAPTER  XII. 

1818-1819. — Keeley  —  Intercourse  with  other  actors  —  Anecdote  of  Barry  — 
Macready  acting  gratuitously  for  his  father —  Visit  to  a  coal  mine  near  New- 
castle—  London  season  —  Michael  Ducas  in  Lewis's  "Adelgitha" —  Romani 
in  "  Proof  Presumptive  "  —  Dumont  in  "  Jane  Shore  "  —  "  Earl  of  Warwick  " 
—  Miss  Somerville  —  Shell's  "Evadne" — Father's  difficulties  renewed  — 
Maturin's  "Fredolfo"  —  Condemned  on  first  night — Mrs.  Siddons's  reappear- 
ance in  Lady  Randolph  for  Charles  Kemble's  benefit  —  Miss  O'Xeill's  last 
performance  in  London  —  Edinburgh  —  Glasgow  —  Falls  of  the  Clyde  — 
Pedestrian  tour  in  the  Highlands  —  Professional  study  in  a  lunatic  asylum  — 
Swansea  —  Bristol. 

FROM   London   I   proceeded  to  Birmingham,  where  Elliston  was 
lessee  of  the  theater,  who  paid  me  £100  for  a  week's  performance. 

1  Things  become  possible  when  they  seem  to  be  possible.  —  ED. 


1-22  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XII 

Mr.  Keeley  was  a  member  of  the  company,  and  it  was  with  pleasure  I 
noted  in  him,  young  as  lie  was,  the  humor  and  theatrical  aptitude  that 
h;ive  since  been  so  universally  and  pleasantly  recognized.  It  had 
always  been  in  direct  contrariety  to  my  disposition  and  my  taste,  even 
in  London,  to  adopt  the  "  hail-fellow-well-met  "  familiarity  of  the 
greenrooms,  into  which  (when  I  entered  them,  which  was  not  often) 
I  carried  the  manners  and  address  habitual  with  me  in  general  society. 
I  am  well  aware  this  subjected  me  to  unpopularity  with  very  many  in 
the  profession,  among  whom  I  bore  the  character  of  being  haughty  and 
overbearing.  On  the  occasion  of  this  Birmingham  engagement  it  was 
reported  to  me  that  the  actors  had  come  to  an  agreement  to  "  cut "  me 
whenever  I  should  go  into  the  greenroom,  and  that  Keeley  had  en- 
joyed their  disappointment  in  the  tables  being  turned  by  my  never 
affording  them  the  opportunity.  There  were  other  causes  tending  to 
alienate  my  fellow-laborers,  among  which  was  the  zeal,  probably  some- 
times outstripping  discretion,  which  I  carried  into  the  pursuit  of  our 
art,  at  rehearsals  requiring  of  them  a  degree  of  accuracy  and  attention 
that  they  were  perhaps  too  indolent,  or  indisposed,  or  sometimes  un- 
able to  give.  A  better  judgment  would  have  made  more  allowance  for 
them.  There  was  some  humor  in  the  retort  of  a  country  actor  of  the 
name  of  Knipe  to  the  famous  Barry,  who  was,  like  myself,  impatient 
of  the  incompetency  of  the  players  of  the  company.  "  Do  not  speak 
your  speech,  sir,  in  that  drawling  way,"  said  Barry  in  his  energetic 
manner  ;  "  look  at  me,  sir  ;  speak  it  in  this  way  —  '  To  ransom  home 
revolted  Mortimer  ! '  —  that  'a  the  way  to  speak  it,  sir."  To  which 
the  actor  immediately  replied,  "  I  know  that,  sir  —  that  is  the  way  ; 
but  you  '11  please  to  remember  you  get  £100  a  week  for  speaking  it  in 
your  way,  and  I  only  get  thirty  shillings  for  mine  !  Give  me  £100, 
and  I  '11  speak  it  your  way ;  but  I  'm  not  going  to  do  for  thirty  shil- 
lings what  you  get  paid  £100  for." 

On  the  intimation  from  a  mutual  friend,  Mr.  W.  Loraine,  that  a 
professional  visit  to  my  father  might  relieve  his  affairs  from  much  em- 
barrassment, I  immediately  made  a  very  satisfactory  arrangement  to 
act  for  him  gratuitously  in  Miss  O'Neill's  engagement,  the  ordinary 
receipts  to  be  equally  divided,  her  benefit  to  be  entirely  her  own,  and 
she  to  give  her  services  on  the  night  announced  as  mine.  Expectation 
was  fully  answered,  and  my  father  was  for  the  time  set  at  ease ;  but 
one  of  his  strange  fits  of  caprice  placed  me  in  a  very  awkward  predica- 
ment. I  had  readily  consented  to  repeat  for  Miss  O'Neill's  benefit 
"  Rob  Roy,"  which  I  had  acted  as  the  second  piece  for  my  own,  i.  e.  my 
father's  benefit ;  without  any  shadow  of  pretense  he  interfered,  and  re- 
fused his  permission.  It  availed  nothing  that  I  overruled  his  prohibi- 
tion :  Miss  O'Neill  very  naturally  declined  to  take  the  piece.  A  brief 
and  courteous  correspondence  with  Mr.  R.  O'Neill  exonerated  me  from 
all  participation  in  the  discourtesy,  and  we  happily  parted  on  the  best 
understanding. 

Some  idle  days  on  my  hands  were  given  to  sight-seeing.  The  old 
castle,  Sunderlaud  Iron  Bridge,  etc.',  were  interesting,  but  the  chief 


1818-19.  VISIT  TO  A   COAL  MINE.  123 

object  of  my  curiosity,  when  in  the  North,  had  always  been  the  work- 
ing of  a  coal-mine.  I  had  a  letter  to  the  manager  or  head-man  of  a 
mine :  the  name  does  not  remain  with  me,  but  it  was  the  deepest  but 
one  in  the  whole  coal  region.  Loder,  a  violinist  of  great  note  in  his 
day  (there  had  been  no  Paganinis,  Vieux  Temps,  Ole  Bulls,  or  "Wini- 
awskis  then),  was  dining  with  my  father,  and,  hearing  my  intention, 
expressed  his  wish  to  accompany  me  the  next  morning.  Accordingly 
at  the  appointed  hour  next  day  a  chaise  took  us  to  the  little  hamlet  at 
the  pit's  mouth,  about  six  or  seven  miles  from  Newcastle.  Arrived 
there,  the  manager  receiving  us  very  civilly,  informed  us  that  we  must 
put  on  miner's  dresses.  This  was  not  a  very  agreeable  introduction, 
but  we  at  once  understood  its  necessity,  and  there  we  were  two  com- 
plete miners,  save  and  except  the  want  of  smudge  upon  our  faces, 
which  however  we  did  not  long  wait  for.  A  stout,  elderly,  steady- 
looking  man  was  directed  to  be  our  guide.  The  basket  was  pulled  to 
the  pit's  mouth,  and  I  must  confess  to  a  flutter  of  the  heart  when  I  saw 
the  craft  in  which  we  were  to  make  our  downward  voyage,  feeling,  like 
Acres,  very  much  inclined  to  "  run  ;  "  but  casting  a  look  on  my  com- 
panion, and  seeing  his  face  as  pale  as  ashes,  restored  my  courage,  and 
with  a  hearty  laugh  I  got  into  one  side  of  the  basket,  whilst  he  slowly 
took  his  place  in  the  other  ;  our  guide  slung  his  thigh  into  the  noose 
of  a  chain,  and  the  steam-engine  began  to  lower  us  down  at  half-rate 
pace,  which  seemed  to  me  what  might  be  better  termed  "  double-quick 
time." 

Once  or  twice  in  our  downward  course  I  looked  up  aloft,  when  the 
aperture  through  which  we  had  emerged  appeared  like  "  a  star  of 
smallest  magnitude,"  and  our  guide  when  he  had  made  what  seemed 
a  great  distance  of  depth,  kept  constantly  striking  against  the  wall  of 
the  shaft  the  particular  sort  of  rough  stick  he  carried.  I  was  wonder- 
ing what  his  object  could  be,  perceiving  there  was  some  significance 
in  the  action,  when  he  enlightened  us  not  very  agreeably  with  the  ex- 
clamation, "  Now  then  I  '11  tell  ye,  when  we  get  half-way  doon."  It 
was  with  a  suppressed  groan  I  learned  that  we  were  still  dangling  at 
such  an  awful  distance  from  the  bottom.  But  the  deepest  shaft,  like 
the  longest  day,  will  have  an  end  ;  we  reached  a  solid  footing  at  last, 
and  extricating  ourselves  from  our  basket,  sat  down  in  a  scooped-out 
recess  to  "get  our  sight,"  as  our  guide,  who  was  providing  himself 
with  a  light,  directed  us  before  setting  out  on  our  tour  through  this 
gnome's  world  of  wonders. 

A  world  it  seem  to  be  from  the  activity  pervading  it.  There  were 
horses  with  long  trains  of  creels  of  coal,  and  their  drivers ;  a  steam- 
engine  at  work  ;  a  pond  for  the  horses  to  wash  in.  But  a  partial  view 
was  all  we  could  obtain  in  the  darkness  visible  by  the  help  of  our  con- 
ductor's lamp.  We  traversed  gallery  after  gallery,  sometimes  more 
than  six  feet  in  height ;  at  other  times  we  were  obliged  to  walk  in  a 
stooping  posture.  At  given  distances  through  the  galleries  there 
were  trap-doors,  with  pulleys  and  weights,  to  insure  a  frequent  circu- 
lation of  air  ;  under  an  open  shaft  was  an  immense  roaring  fire,  kept 


124  HACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CII.VP.  XII. 

up,  like  the  great  lung  of  the  excavation,  for  a  continual  draught  of 
pure  air  from  above.  It  particularly  surprised  me  to  see  the  process 
of  blasting  a  huge  mass  of  coal  detached,  which  the  miners,  naked  to 
their  waists,  vigorously  broke  up  and  deposited  in  the  creels.  The  air 
was  very  thick  and  close,  and  heavy  on  the  breath ;  but  the  particular 
oppression  I  experienced  was  in  the  sensation  of  my  ears.  In  one 
compartment,  as  the  trap-door  shut  after  and  inclosed  us,  our  guide 
stopped  us,  and,  apparently  with  great  relish,  said,  "Now  I'll  show  you 
something ; "  then  lighting  a  match  at  his  lamp,  he  raised  it  to  the  top 
of  the  seam,  and  igniting  the  gas  or  fire-damp,  in  an  instant  the  roof 
was  all  on  flame.  For  the  uninitiated  it  was  a  very  nervous  minute. 
"  Thank  you,"  said  I,  "  that  will  do."  "  Oh,  there  's  no  danger,"  re- 
turned he  ;  "  d  'ye  think  I  'd  have  lighted  it  if  I  did  not  well  know  ?  " 
"I  have  no  doubt,"  I  continued,  "  but  we  're  perfectly  satisfied;"  upon 
which,  half  grumbling  at  the  effect  of  his  pyrotechnic  display,  he  con- 
tinued, "  Oh,  I  '11  put  it  out  in  a  minute,  ye  '11  see,"  and  beating  the 
ceiling  with  his  hat,  he  very  soon  extinguished  every  trace  of  fire. 
We  were  some  hours  below,  for  our  slow  walk  was  one  of  miles,  and 
at  the  extreme  point  of  our  progress  our  guide  informed  us  that  "  we 
were  just  under  the  middle  of  the  Tyne."  In  some  places  the  heat  was 
very  great,  and  the  perspiration  flowed  profusely  down  our  blackened 
faces.  We  were  glad  to  have  seen  what  was  to  me  a  wonderful  sight, 
but  at  the  same  time  it  was  not  the  least  part  of  our  enjoyment  to 
take-  in  a  good  draught  of  the  fresh  air  of  heaven,  and  to  find  our- 
selves standing  again  on  the  outside  of  the  earthy  crust.  After  a 
hearty  laugh  at  the  figures  we  presented  to  each  other,  we  took  the 
benefit  of  the  cold  water  set  for  us,  exchanged  our  miners'  suits  for 
our  own  apparel,  and,  recompensing  our  conductor,  got  merrily  into 
our  chaise  for  our  return  to  Newcastle. 

The  anecdote  will  recur  to  many  of  Sheridan's  expostulations  with 
his  son  Tom,  when  at  Newcastle,  on  his  wish  to  make  a  descent  into 
one  of  these  mines,  and  Tom  giving  as  a  clinching  reason  for  per- 
sisting in  his  purpose,  "  Well,  father,  I  should  like  to  say  I  had  been 
down  a  coal  mine,"  and  Sheridan's  rejoinder,  "  Well  then,  Tom,  why 
can't  you  say  so  ?  "  I  have  not  yet  discovered  any  particular  grat- 
ification in  saying  I  have  been  down  a  mine,  but  the  sight  was  one  I 
would  not  have  missed,  nor  would  I  willingly  part  with  the  recollec- 
tion of  it.  My  previous  ideas  of  these  wonderful  exenterations  of 
the  earth  had  been  wild  and  fanciful  in  the  extreme.  I  had  expect  nl 
to  find  an  immense  concave  vault,  that  might  have  suggested  a  Hall 
of  Eblis,  or  lofty  area,  extending  beyond  the  reach  of  sight ;  but  I 
found  myself  threading  low  galleries,  that  suggested  in  magnified  pro- 
portions the  passages  in  an  ant-hill.  Vast  pillars  of  coal  were  left  by 
the  miners  and  wooden  props  as  supports  to  the  vacant  spaces,  from 
whence  the  coal  had  been  taken,  in  order,  I  believe,  to  prevent  or  ren- 
der more  gradual  the  subsidence  of  the  masses  above. 

On  reaching  London  for  the  approaching  season,  I  found  that  the 
Drury  Lane  committee  had  been  led  from  ill-success  to  reduce  their 


1818-19.  IMPROVEMENT  IN  ACTING.  125 

prices,  whilst  Covent  Garden  opened,  September  the  7th  (1818),  un- 
der most  favorable  auspices,  receiving  a  powerful  addition  to  its  great 
comic  strength  in  the  engagement  of  Mr.  W.  Farren,  an  actor  de- 
servedly admired  for  his  studious  correctness  and  the  passion  of  his 
comedies,  though  eclipsed  by  Mundeu  and  Dowton  in  the  rich  quality 
of  humor.  I  settled  myself  in  a  commodious  first  floor  in  Berners 
Street,  and  for  the  first  three  or  four  weeks  the  success  of  Farren's 
plays,  which  were  strongly  cast,  gave  me  many  leisure  evenings, 
which,  however,  were  not  allowed  to  be  idle  ones.  I  had  before  me 
a  most  repulsive  character,  against  which  I  had  vehemently  protested, 
but  as  usual  in  vain.  This  was  Michael  Ducas  in  Mr.  Lewis's  trag- 
edy of  "  Adelgitha."  In  acting  Lothair,  the  juvenile  hero  of  the 
play,  I  had  won  golden  opinions ;  which  made  it  a  peculiar  hardship 
that  I  should  be  now  forced  to  represent  the  old  bombastic  tyrant, 
the  butt  against  which  all  the  indignant  sentiments  and  sarcasms  of 
the  other  parts  were  leveled.  Fawcett's  reply  to  my  complainings 
was  not  without  its  good  effect,  "Why,  William,  you  grumble  at 
every  part  that  is  given  you,  and  you  succeed  in  them  all !  Set  to 
work  at  this,  and,  though  it  is  rather  an  odious  gentleman,  you  may 
make  something  of  him  by  hard  study."  I  did  give  especial  pains  to 
it,  investing  it  with  a  dignity  of  manner  that  enforced  respect,  and 
with  a  concentrated  energy  that  made  the  scenes  in  which  I  appeared 
completely  my  own.  The  truth  had  become  manifest  to  me,  that,  as 
passion  is  weakness,  the  real  sense  of  power  is  best  expressed  by  a 
collected  and  calm  demeanor.  Indeed  from  this  performance  I  date 
an  elevation  of  style  and  a  sensible  improvement  in  my  acting,  of 
which  I  felt  before  my  audiences  the  general  recognition.  Miss  Som- 
erville,  alias  Mrs.  Bunn,  was  the  Adelgitha,  not  eliciting  any  partic- 
ular approval,  indeed  rather  causing  disappointment  from  the  inju- 
dicious puffery  that  had  heralded  her  appearance.  She  had  the 
advantage  of  a  commanding  person,  and  some  force  in  declamation, 
but  her  talents  were  not  of  a  first  order.  Young  was  not  equal  to 
himself  in  Guiscard,  a  part  he  did  not  like,  and  Charles  Kemble  made 
no  great  effect  in  Lothair.  For  myself  the  part  was  a  great  step  in 
public  opinion.1  A  sort  of  serious  drama  in  three  acts,  called  "  Proof 
Presumptive,"  translated  from  the  French  by  Charles  Kemble  (to 
which  I  offered  no  objection,  because  it  was  his),  was  acted  only  three 
nights  ;  but  the  part,  named  Romani,  afforded  me  opportunities  which 
I  did  not  neglect.2 

The  chronicle  of  my  progress  is  but  a  monotonous  repetition  of 
adventure  in  new  characters,  and  generally  with  similar  results. 
Through  an  industrious  circulation  of  newspapers,  notices,  and  par- 
agraphs in  laudation  of  Miss  Somerville,  a  temporary  excitement  had 

1  From  the  Times.  —  "  The  character  of  Michael  Ducas  found  a  most  able  rep- 
resentative in  Mr.  Macready.  There  are  few  performers  on  the  stage  who  produce 
so  much  effect  without  any  apparent  effort  as  this  gentleman." 

'2  From  the  Times.  —  "  Mr.  Macready  gave  some  very  fine  traits  of  the  discerning 
actor  in  the  part  of  Romani ;  he  yields  to  no  one  in  the  delineation  of  the  cool  and 
crafty,  yet  bold  and  determined  villain." 


126  MACREADY' S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XII. 

been  raised  by  the  announcement  of  her  appearance  in  a  play  with 
Miss  O'Neill.  Between  these  actresses  there  was  no  approach  to 
comparison.  One  was  a  genius,  great  in  her  art,  the  other  respect- 
able. But  curiosity  was  piqued.  The  play  of  "  Jane  Shore,"  No- 
vember 10,  was  powerfully  cast,  and,  with  Miss  O'Neill  as  the  heroine 
and  Miss  Somerville  as  Alicia,  supported  by  Young  as  Hastings, 
Booth  as  Gloster,  and  myself  as  Dumont,  filled  the  theater  for  thir- 
teen or  fourteen  nights.  Praise  was  lavishly  bestowed  and  rightfully 
awarded  to  the  performances  of  Miss  O'Neill,  and  young  Miss  Somer- 
ville was  what  might  be  considered  an  average  representative  of  Alicia ; 
but  Booth  was  so  ineffective  that  he  quitted  the  theater  after  the  first 
night,  and  Egerton  filled  his  place.  Good  fortune  attended  me  in  the 
part  of  Dumont,  to  which  I  bent  my  best  endeavors.1  Nor  was  I  less 
favored  in  the  criticisms  passed  on  my  representation  of  the  Earl  of 
Warwick  in  the  tragedy  of  that  name2  —  which  was  revived  for  the 
purpose  of  affording  another  trial  to  Miss  Somerville,  in  the  part  of 
Margaret  of  Anjou.  This  was  one  of  the  characters  in  which  Mrs. 
Siddons,  by  the  grandeur  of  her  deportment,  the  truth  and  intensity 
of  her  passion,  presented  a  poetic  image,  an  historical  ideal,  that  far 
transcended  the  author's  conception.  Miss  Somerville  declaimed  the 
part  as  other  actresses  have  done,  but  left  no  particular  impression  of 
its  power.  This  lady's  appearance  in  London  was  attended  with  an 
unpleasant  demonstration  of  the  actor's  disapproval  of  her  husband's 
proceedings.  A  weekly  theatrical  paper  had  been  started  in  praise  of 
Miss  Somerville  and  in  depreciation  of  Miss  O'Neill,  by  a  bookseller, 
Harris,  whose  shop  in  Bow  Street  was  opposite  to  the  theater.  It  was 
very  soon  ascertained  that  Mr.  Bunn  had  set  it  on  foot,  and  was  its 
sole  editor.  As  the  husband  of  Miss  Somerville  he  had  been  allowed 
the  entree  of  the  greenroom ;  but  on  this  discovery  Mr.  Fawcett,  the 
stage-manager,  upon  the  indignant  representation  of  the  performers, 
gave  him  to  understand,  with  some  very  severe  comments  on  the  affair, 
that  his  presence  in  the  greenroom  was  disagreeable  to  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  who  frequented  it,  and  could  no  longer  be  permitted.  'Upon 
which  Mr.  Bunn  very  penitently  promised  to  stop  the  publication  of 
the  abusive  journal,  and  his  strictures  on  the  performances  were  for  a 
time  discontinued.  The  paper  after  three  or  four  numbers  was  heard 
of  no  more. 

My  London  career  now  became  a  regularly  progressive  one,  the 
characters  allotted  to  me  bringing  me  generally  an  increase  of  favor, 
as  I  grew  in  confidence  of  my  audience  and  of  my  own  powers.  In 
the  month  of  February  Sheil  produced  his  tragedy  of  "  Evadne." 
Gifford,  the  author  of  the  "  Baviad  "  and  "  Mteviad,"  and  editor  of  the 

1  From  the  Times.  —  "  To  complete  the  catalogue  of  first-rate  performers,  we  had 
Mr.  Macready  in  the  part  of  Dumont.  The  character  probably  never  had  before  so 
excellent  a  representative." 

a  From  the  Morning  Herald.  —  "  It  was  one  of  the  finest  performances  we  have 
seen.  Mr.  Macready  has  the  art  which  so  few  besides  possess,  and  which  is  the 
perfection  of  declamation,  that  of  giving  the  language  of  the  part  the  air  of  being 
unpremeditated." 


1818-19.  FATHERS  DIFFICULTIES.  127 

"Anti-Jacobin  "  and  the  "  Quarterly  Review,"  had  met  him  at  Murray's, 
and  given  him  the  proof-sheets  of  Shirley's  "  Traitor,"  as  he  was  pre- 
paring the  edition  of  that  author's  works  for  the  press,  observing  at 
the  same  time  how  little  was  needed  to  adapt  it  for  representation. 
Sheil  was  delighted  with  the  work ;  he  read  it  to  me,  and  expressed 
himself  particularly  gratified  in  the  opportunity  of  putting  such  a  part 
as  Ludovico  in  my  hands,  and  very  speedily,  with  some  considerable 
and  most  judicious  alterations,  sent  in  the  play  to  Mr.  Harris.  Harris's 
observations  were  to  the  effect  that  "an  altered  play  never  had  the 
attraction  of  an  original  one,  and  that  the  dramatist  who  could  write 
such  a  scene  as  that  of  '  the  statues  '  in  the  third  act,  ought  to  make 
the  whole  play  his  own."  Accordingly  the  play  of  "  Evadne,  or  the 
Statue,"  was  duly  prepared  and  put  into  rehearsal.  Its  effect  in  rep- 
resentation, February  10th  (1819),  was  very  great.  Miss  O'Neill 
was  the  Evadne,  in  all  the  charm,  the  tenderness,  and  the  power  of 
the  character  ;  Young  as  Colonna,  the  brother,  and  Charles  Kemble 
as  Vicentio,  the  lover,  were  both  at  home  in  their  several  parts,  and 
Ludovico  proved  another  stepping-stone  for  myself.1 

My  father's  difficulties  meantime  had  thickened  around  him  :  he  had 
lost  the  Newcastle  Theater,  his  main  dependence,  and  had  opened  a 
negotiation  for  the  lease  of  that  at  Bristol.  But  the  funds  required  to 
leave  his  old  abode  and  enter  on  a  new  speculation  were  wanting. 
These  were  supplied  by  the  contributions  of  our  relations,  the  Birches, 
and  myself.  My  two  sisters,  who  up  to  this  time  had  lived  with  our 
father,  now  took  the  independent  resolution,  in  order  to  relieve  him 
from  the  expense  of  their  maintenance,  of  going  out  as  governesses. 
I  was  strongly  opposed  to  their  plan,  wishing  them  to  share  my  home ; 
but  they  were  firm  in  their  determination,  and  were  supported  in  it  by 
our  relations'  and  friends'  opinions.  Fortunately  I  was  able  to  avail 
myself  of  some  vacant  nights  at  Covent  Garden  to  engage  Terry,  and, 
taking  him  down  with  me  to  Bristol,  we  presented  a  very  imposing 
bill  of  fare  for  the  inauguration  of  my  father's  new  enterprise,  by  act- 
ing together  for  him  the  three  first  nights  of  his  season,  beginning 
with  Easter  Monday.  This  was  a  good  start  for  him,  and  he  was  able 
to  maintain  his  position  in  that  city  with  general  respect  and  in  com- 
fortable circumstances  for  the  remainder  of  his  life. 

The  greenroom  news  on  our  return  to  London  was  the  acceptance 
by  the  Covent  Garden  managers  of  a  tragedy  by  Maturin,  the  success 
of  whose  previous  works,  "  Bertram,"  "  Manuel,"  etc.,  gave  pungency 
to  the  curiosity  such  an  announcement  excited.  In  these  there  was 
evidence  of  great  power,  passion,  and  poetry  ;  and  only  originality  of 
invention  was  wanting  to  justify  the  award  of  genius  to  the  author's 

1  From  the  Times.  —  "  Macreadv  proved  himself,  as  he  never  fails  to  do,  the 
accomplished  actor ;  we  were  much  struck  by  a  passage  in  the  first  act,  where, 
after  he  has  been  practicing  the  greatest  adulation  and  meanness,  to  divert  the 
attention  of  the  king  from  his  revealed  treason,  he  assumes,  on  his  departure, 
a  manly  attitude  and  gesticulation,  in  the  finest  contrast  with  his  previous 
servility." 


128  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAI-.  XII. 

clever  combinations.  But  in  his  novels,  as  in  his  dramatic  efforts,  he 
seems  to  have  been  under  the  magnetic  influence  of  what  he  approved 
or  admired  in  others,  which  with  an  irresistible  force  drew  him,  I 
believe  unconsciously,  into  imitation.  With  sundry  properties  of 
genius  he  yet  was  deficient  in  its  primary  element,  patience  —  the 
confidence  to  wait  for  the  birth  and  maturity  of  his  own  conceptions. 
His  play  of  "  Fredolfo,"  perhaps  the  least  to  be  commended  of  all  his 
works,  supported  by  the  Covent  Garden  company,  could  not  fail  of 
full  justice  from  a  cast  including  Miss  O'Neill,  Young,  Charles  Kem- 
ble,  etc.  But  opinion  was  unanimous  in  the  greenroom  on  its  fate. 
Of  the  characters  three  of  them  were  villains  —  the  three  degrees  of 
comparison,  bad,  worse,  worst.  Young  was  Fredolfo,  the  positive ; 
Yates  the  comparative,  Berthold ;  and  to  me  was  committed  the 
superlative,  Wallenberg,  —  a  very  voluptuary  in  villainy,  whom  it  was 
not  possible  the  taste  of  any  audience  could  tolerate.  Mr.  Alaric 
Watts  was  the  friend  to  whom  the  supervision  of  the  rehearsals  and 
the  care  of  the  author's  interests  were  intrusted,  and  he  was  as  con- 
fident in  the  triumph  of  the  tragedy,  as  all  the  actors  were  of  its  dam- 
nation. 

Its  production  was  so  long  retarded,  though  all  concerned  were 
perfect  in  their  parts,  by  the  severe  illness  of  Young,  that  the  man- 
agers were  driven,  after  three  weeks'  delay,  to  the  decisive  step  of 
altering  the  cast.  I  was  desired  to  prepare  myself  in  Fredolfo,  a  very 
long  part;  that  of  Wallenberg  was  sent  to  Terry  ;  and  the  play  was 
to  be  represented,  coute  qui  coute,  on  that  day  (Saturday)  week.  I 
acted  Pierre  in  "  Venice  Preserved "  on  the  night  the  change  was 
made,  and  the  next  morning  was  early  up  and  at  work  on  Fredolfo. 
The  play  was  rehearsed  on  Monday,  and  Mr.  Harris  went  on  the 
stage  in  some  anxiety  to  inquire  of  McCulloch,  the  prompter,  how  the 
rehearsal  had  "  gone  off."  His  first  question  was  :  "  Did  Macready 
Know  anything  of  Fredolfo  ?  "  "  He  was  perfect  in  every  line  of  it," 
was  McCulloch's  answer.  "  And  Terry  in  Wallenberg  ?  "  added  Har- 
ris. "  Did  not  know  a  word  of  it,"  rejoined  McCulloch.  Terry  was  a 
very  clever  actor,  with  a  remarkably  quick  study,  to  which  he  always 
trusted,  generally  rehearsing  with  his  book  in  his  hand  till  the  morn- 
ing of  the  play's  performance.  My  system,  on  the  contrary,  as  I  have 
before  observed,  was  to  pluck  out  all  the  advantage  that  could  be 
derived  from  every  opportunity  of  practice.  Young  rose  from  his 
sick  bed,  and  the  original  cast  was  maintained.  The  play  passed 
(May  12th,  1819)  with  little  applause  and  occasional  disapprobation 
to  the  last  scene,  the  interior  of  a  cathedral,  at  the  altar  of  which 
Wallenberg  had  secured  Urilda  (Miss  O'Neill),  and  threatened  Adel- 
inar,  her  lover  (Charles  Kemble),  who  with  his  band  had  burst  in  to 
her  rescue,  with  her  instant  death  unless  he  surrendered  his  sword. 
In  the  agony  of  his  despair  Adelmar  on  his  knees  gave  his  weapon 
into  the  hands  of  Wallenberg,  who  plunged  it  directly  into  his  bosom, 
upon  which  the  pit  got  up  with  a  perfect  yell  of  indignation,  such  as,  I 
fancy,  was  never  before  heard  in  a  theater.  Not  another  syllable  was 


1818-19.  RE-APPEARANCE  OF  MRS.   SIDDONS.  129 

audible.  The  curtain  fell  in  a  tumult  of  opposition,  and  "  Fredolfo  " 
was  never  acted  again. 

The  approaching  close  of  the  season  was  intimated  by  the  notice  of 
the  performers'  benefits,  and  frequent  messages  were  sent  to  me  from 
the  box-office,  reporting  inquiries  there,  whether  it  was  my  intention 
to  take  a  night,  and  intimating  that  if  I  would  act  Richard  III.  I 
might  calculate  on  a  crowded  house.  But  although  I  was  sensible  of 
my  growth  in  public  favor,  I  hesitated  to  set  on  such  a  venture  the 
vantage-ground  I  had  gained.  Between  Young  and  myself  there  was 
something  of  a  feeling  of  rivalry,  which,  however,  did  not  interfere 
with  the  courtesy  that,  although  distant,  was  always  maintained  be- 
tween us.  I  made  it  a  point  to  oblige  him  on  the  occasion  of  his 
benefits,  and  this  year  studied  for  him,  in  "Julius  Caesar,"  the  "lean 
and  wrinkled  Cassius,"  a  part  in  the  representation  of  which  I  have 
through  my  professional  life  taken  peculiar  pleasure,  as  one  among 
Shakespeare's  most  perfect  specimens  of  idiosyncrasy. 

The  theaters,  no  less  than  the  public,  were  taken  by  surprise  upon 
the  advertisement  of  Charles  Kemble's  benefit.  The  Queen  of  Tragedy, 
Mrs.  Siddons,  had  consented  to  appear  once  again  upon  the  stage  !  To 
those  who  had  enjoyed  the  privilege  in  former  days  of  appreciating  the 
displays  of  her  transcendent  genius,  and  who,  in  her  performance  of 
Lady  Macbeth  in  1817,  had  been  regretful  witnesses  of  the  total  de- 
cline of  her  physical  powers,  the  announcement  was  an  unwelcome  one. 
Her  admirers,  jealous  of  her  fame,  felt  it  an  injustice  to  herself,  and 
blamed  Charles  Kemble  for  soliciting  the  sacrifice  from  her.  His  pur- 
pose was,  however,  fully  answered  by  the  thronged  attendance  of  all 
ranks  to  get  a  parting  sight  of  the  greatest  actress  of  her  own  or  per- 
haps of  any  time.  The  play  was  "  Douglas."  How  ineffaceably  im- 
pressed on  my  memory  was  her  matchless  personation  of  the  widowed 
mother  seven  years  before  !  I  then  was  the  young  Norval,  now  Charles 
Kemble's  character.  Young  retained  old  Norval,  and  Glenalvon  re- 
mained of  course  with  me.  Mrs.  Siddons  appeared  June  9th,  "for 
that  night  only,"  as  Lady  Randolph.  On  her  former  re-appearance 
as  Lady  Macbeth  there  had  not  been  one  salient  point  to  break  the 
sombre  level  of  the  unimpassioned  recitation.  On  this  night  there  was 
a  gleam  of  the  "  original  brightness,"  in  which  many  like  myself  no 
doubt  rejoiced,  as  calculated  to  afford  to  those  who  had  not  known  her 
days  of  triumph  some  slight  glimpse  of  the  grand  simplicity  and  force 
of  her  style.  When,  as  Glenalvon,  I  stood  intently  riveting  my  gaze 
upon  her,  as  she  uttered  her  threatening  caution  regarding  Norval,  she 
paused ;  then  fixing  her  eyes  sternly  upon  me,  in  a  tone  of  insulted 
dignity  and  with  a  commanding  air,  continued  : 

"  Thou  look'st  at  me  as  if  thou  fain  would'st  pry 
Into  my  heart," 

concluding  with  the  majestic  confidence  of  truth  : 
"  'Tis  open  as  my  speech." 

The  effect  was  electric,  and  the  house  responded  with  peals  of  applause. 
9 


130  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAI-.  XII. 

But  this  was  as  the  last  flicker  of  the  dying  flame  ;  no  flash  enlightened 
the  succeeding  scenes.  Her  powers  were  no  longer  equal  to  those 
bursts  of  passion  in  which,  with  unrivaled  skill,  she  had  formerly 
swayed  at  will  the  feelings  of  her  audience.  Those  who  have  only 
known  the  painting  of  Guido  in  the  faint  and  watery  colorings  of  his 
pencil's  later  productions  (characterized  by  cognoscenti  as  his  "  feeble 
manner  "),  could  scarcely  give  the  artist  credit  for  such  works  as  the 
Martyrdom  of  St.  Peter,  the  Aurora,  the  Madonna  at  Bologna,  and 
other  marvels  of  his  art,  which  won  him  renown  in  his  earlier  and  hap- 
pier day.  Still  less  could  they  who  had  been  present  at  no  other  per- 
formance of  Mrs.  Siddons  than  these  two  last  attempts  have  formed 
any  idea  of  the  matchless  fidelity  with  which  the  passions  of  our  nature 
could  be  portrayed,  or  have  remotely  conceived  the  point  of  sublimity 
to  which  her  wonderful  powers  of  expression  could  raise  the  poet's 
thought.  In  no  other  theatrical  artist  were,  I  believe,  the  charms  of 
voice,  the  graces  of  personal  beauty,  and  the  gifts  of  genius  ever  so 
grandly  and  harmoniously  combined. 

The  close  of  this  season  was  rendered  further  memorable  by  the  dis- 
appearance of  another  "  bright  particular  star,"  indeed  one  of  the 
brightest  that  ever  glittered  in  the  theatrical  firmament.  On  the  even- 
ing of  July  13th  (1819)  Miss  O'Neill  acted  Mrs.  Haller  in  "The 
Stranger,"  announced  in  the  play-bills  as  "  her  last  performance  before 
Christmas."  It  was  her  last  performance  in  London.  Before  Christ- 
mas she  had  exchanged  the  public  triumphs  of  her  laborious  art  for 
the  tranquil  felicity  of  domestic  life  by  her  union  with  Sir  William 
Wrixon  Becher,  Bart.,  M.  P.  for  Mallow.  With  endowments  of  genius 
that  placed  her  on  the  very  loftiest  pinnacle  of  her  profession,  she  was 
gifted  with  virtues  and  native  graces  that  would  have  adorned  and  shed 
lustre  on  the  highest  rank.  Like  the  star  of  Hipparchus,  she  had  sud- 
denlv  shone  out  to  the  surprise  and  wonder  of  all  beholders,  and,  after 
a  brief  display  of  her  glory,  as  suddenly  and  silently  had  vanished  from 
their  sight. 

My  course  for  the  summer  lay  northward,  and,  leaving  my  sister 
Letitia  to  visit  her  Newcastle  friends,  I  went  onwards  to  my  engage- 
ment at  Edinburgh,  which  did  little  more  than  cover  my  expenses. 
But  these  mischances,  when  they  occurred,  seldom  gave  much  dis- 
turbance to  my  philosophy,  and  in  a  note  I  made  at  the  time  of  this 
visit  I  remark,  ••  In  warm  and  enthusiastic  approbation  no  place  to  me 
ever  was  more  kind.  The  fervor  of  those  who  came  to  see  me  "  (and, 
if  I  remember  rightly,  the  authors  of  "'  P^ssays  on  Taste  "  and  the 
-  Man  of  Feeling"  were  conspicuous  among  them)  "almost  recom- 
pensed me  for  the  absence  of  those  who  stayed  away."  My  chief 
cause  of  regret  in  leaving  that  beautiful  and  interesting  city  was  my 
inability  to  present  the  letters  of  introduction  with  which  1  had  been 
furnished  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  who  at  that  time  was  confined  to  his 
bed  by  a  serious  and,  it  was  feared,  a  dangerous  illness.  Happily  he 
lived  to  swell  still  further  the  amount  of  his  contributions  to  the 
world's  entertainment  and  instruction ;  but  the  expectations  I  had 


1818-19.  HIGHLAND  TOUR.  131 

fondly  cherished  of  making  his  acquaintance  were  for  once  and  all 
disappointed.  Another  introduction  was  scarcely  more  fortunate.  My 
good  old  friend  Birch,  who  never  missed  an  occasion  of  serving  me, 
had  sent  me  a  letter  to  Dr.  Hamilton,  a  physician  in  high  practice,  to 
whose  son  he  had  shown  great  kindness  at  Rugby.  The  letter  I  left 
with  my  card  at  the  Doctor's  house.  The  only  notice  given  of  its 
delivery  was  a  guinea  sent  for  a  box-ticket  on  the  day  of  my  benefit, 
which  I  immediately  inclosed  in  a  note,  to  the  effect  that  in  wishing  to 
give  me  the  pleasure  of  Dr.  Hamilton's  acquaintance,  my  relative  and 
friend  could  have  had  no  intention  of  laying  a  tax  on  his  liberality ; 
that  it  was  not  my  practice  to  receive  presents  on  my  benefit-nights ; 
and  with  due  acknowledgments  of  his  courtesy,  I  begged  to  return  his 
inclosure.  He  called  on  me  the  next  day,  but  I  had  left  Edinburgh, 
and  his  card  was  sent  after  me.  A  few  performances  at  Glasgow 
somewhat  improved  the  state  of  my  finances,  and  three  idle  weeks 
were  now  before  me,  which  I  thonght  could  not  be  laid  out  to  better 
advantage  than  in  visiting  the  romantic  scenery  which  in  this  "  land 
of  the  mountain  and  the  flood  "  invited  me  on  every  side.  My  first 
excursion  was  to  the  Falls  of  Clyde,  and  the  grand  and  picturesque 
ravine  of  Cartland  Craigs.  The  cascades  of  Stonebyres  and  Bonning- 
ton  would  not  have  recompensed  me  for  the  fatigue  of  my  walk,  but 
that  of  Corra  Linn  may  vie  in  picturesque  effect  with  many  of  greater 
volume  and  altitude,  and  justifies  the  magnificent  apostrophe  of  Words- 
worth's noble  ode,  "  Lord  of  the  vale  !  Astounding  flood !  "  blending 
as  it  does  the  grand  with  the  beautiful  in  happiest  union. 

At  tha't  time  steamboats  were  few  and  railroads  unknown.  The 
Highlands  were  consequently  less  accessible  than  they  now  are,  and 
the  solitudes  of  wild  and  romantic  scenery  were  comparatively  rarely 
invaded  by  the  parties  of  pleasure  and  tourists  that  now  crowd  to  them 
in  the  summer  season.  Now  on  the  sites  of  shielings  where  I  was 
glad  to  find  oatcake  and  whisky,  there  are  spacious  hotels,  with  cham- 
pagne, fancy  breads,  and  every  luxury,  and  the  pleasure  of  "  roughing 
it "  (to  young  people  adding  so  much  zest  to  their  enjoyment)  has 
disappeared  before  the  comforts  of  civilization.  There  was,  however, 
then  a  steamboat  that  made  its  weekly  run  from  Glasgow  to  the  head 
of  Loch  Fine,  and  in  this,  a  bright  summer  morning  giving  me  splen- 
did views,  along  the  expanding  Clyde,  of  Dumbarton,  the  Kyles  of 
Bute,  Rothsay,  and  the  distant  hills,  I  reached  at  sunset  the  town  of 
Inverary. 

Here  my  pedestrian  tour  began  ;  arid  from  hence  my  route  lay  to 
Portsonochan  on  Loch  Awe,  across  Lakes  Etive  and  Creran  in  sight 
of  Ben  Cruachan  —  to  Ballahulish  on  Loch  Leven  —  through  the 
sternly-wild  and  sublime  pass  of  Glencoe,  by  King's  House  —  and 
Inveronan  to  Tyndrum,  each  day's  journey  varying  in  detail  the 
grandeur  and  beauty  of  the  scenes  through  which  I  passed.  As  I  told 
a  friend,  I  really  felt  on  the  banks  of  Loch  Leven,  "  Had  I  been  born 
here,  I  should  have  been  a  poet."  Such  scenes  must  inspire  lofty 
thoughts,  and  feed  the  mind  with  images  of  the  purest  beauty,  of  which 


132  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XII. 

they  who  keep  their  eyes  upon  the  level  of  the  crowded  street  can 
seldom  or  ever  dream.  It  is  with  an  inward  delight  and  glorying  that 
in  gazing  on  Nature's  splendors  we  sympathize  with  Wordsworth's 
emotions,  and  feel  ourselves,  they 

"  Have  no  need  of  a  remoter  charm 
By  thought  supplied,  or  any  interest 
Unborrowed  from  th/j  eye." 

The  only  approach  to  an  adventure,  if  I  may  call  it  so,  that  diversified 
the  even  tenor  of  my  way,  was  owing  to  my  deviation  from  the  ordi- 
nary track  of  road.  My  old  guide  from  Tyndrum  promised  to  take 
me  by  a  "  short  cut,  just  about  eighteen  miles  and  a  bittock,"  over  the 
Braes  of  Balquhidder  to  the  west  end  of  Loch  Katrine  :  Loch  Katrine, 
the  goal  of  my  expedition,  the  object  of  my  most  ardent  wishes.  We 
started  in  excellent  spirits,  and  got  over  the  level  road  at  a  gallant 
pace ;  but  what  might  have  been  "  eighteen  miles  and  a  bittock  "  in  a 
champaign  country  was  more  than  doubled  in  fatigue  when  the  retard- 
ations of  swamp,  rushes,  and  high  heather  up  these  toilsome  braes  are 
taken  into  account.  I  saw,  however,  much  to  interest  me  iu  this 
wearying  walk.  A  battle-field  was  pointed  out  to  me  by  my  guide, 
but  all  my  searching  inquiries  could  gain  from  him  no  more  than  that 
the  MacNabs  suffered  greatly  there.  Continuing  our  walk  by  a  small 
river's  side,  we  came  to  a  deep  hole  in  a  little  bend  of  the  stream, 
where  he  informed  me  the  "  wud  folk  were  dookit."  I  could  not  at 
first  understand  him,  but  made  out  at  last  that  it  was  sacred  to  St. 
Fillan,  and  that  after  the  insane  persons  were  immersed,  or,  in  his  own 
phrase,  "dookit,"  there,  the  superstition  required  that  each  of  them 
should  add  a  stone  to  the  large  round  heap  which  I  observed  on  the 
low  cliff  above  the  water's  edge.  It  then  occurred  at  once  to  me  that 
this  was  one  of  those  places  of  pilgrimage  alluded  to  by  the  Palmer  in 
"  Marmion  "  as 

"  St.  Fillan's  blessed  well, 
Whose  spring  can  frenzied  dreams  dispel, 
And  the  crazed  brain  restore." 

In  the  dreariest  waste  of  the  braes,  where  there  was  neither  pathway 
nor  track,  and  where  all  looked  as  if  the  foot  of  man  had  never  broken 
on  its  silence,  to  my  great  surprise  I  came  upon  a  tumulus  with  four 
large  stones  fronting  each  other  at  its  base,  answering  to  the  descrip- 
tion of  a  chieftain's  tomb  in  Ossian.  These  monuments  carry  us  back 
into  the  world  of  conjecture,  where  "  all  that  we  know  is,  nothing  can 
be  known." 

I  could  have  willingly  rested  here  some  time ;  but  the  day  was 
advancing,  and  it  was  necessary  to  wend  on  our  way  "  over  hill,  over 
dale,  through  bog,  through  brier  ; "  and  as  the  sun  was  pouring  down 
liis  hottest  beams,  and  the  "  short  cut "  seemed  to  lengthen  itself  out 
interminably,  my  patience  began  to  give  way.  Indeed  I  chafed  as 
much  from  ill-humor  (to  my  discredit  be  it  confessed)  as  from  the 
broiling  heat.  A  spectator  would  have  been  amused  to  have  seen  the 


1818-19.  LOCH  KATRINE.  133 

wrathful  glances  I  cast  at  my  good-natured  old  guide,  as  every  now 
and  then  he  would  turn  round  to  me  with  a  complacent  grin,  and. 
wiping  with  his  hand  the  perspiration  streaming  from  his  forehead, 
ejaculate  —  "  Oh  !  it 's  pleasant !  "  I  am  afraid  I  received  his  observa- 
tions very  ungraciously,  his  "  short  cut "  being  the  most  laborious 
journey  I  had  ever  taken,  and  feeling  myself  completely  "  done  up  " 
by  it.  But  the  longest  road  has  an  end,  and  there  is  a  summit  to  Bal- 
quhidder,  which  at  length  we  reached,  and  oh,  what  a  burst  of  beauty 
on  my  sight  was  there  !  The  sun  was  not  yet  below  the  hills,  and 
under  its  sloping  rays  Loch  Katrine  lay  before  me  like  a  sheet  of 
molten  gold  in  a  frame-work  of  mountain,  wood,  rock,  and  shrub,  inter- 
mingled and  disposed  as  if  in  one  of  Nature's  happiest  moments  of 
design.  The  effect  of  this  glorious  view  upon  me  was  most  extraor- 
dinary ;  wine  could  not  have  produced  such  instantaneous  and  won- 
derful exhilaration  :  I  was  really  enraptured  by  it : 

"  Sound  needed  none, 
Nor  any  voice  of  joy  ;  my  spirit  drank 
The  spectacle." 

After  gazing  a  few  minutes  in  transport  on  the  gorgeous  splendor  of 
the  scene,  I  bounded  down  the  long  hill-side  in  the  wildest  efferves- 
cence of  spirits,  all  annoyance  and  fatigue  forgotten  as  if  it  had  never 
been,  and  at  the  bottom  vaulting  over  a  gate,  that  opened  into  an 
inclosure  in  front  of  a  substantial-looking  farmhouse,  was  accosted  in 
rather  a  surly  tone  by  a  farmer-looking  man  —  "  What 's  your  wull  ?  " 
To  my  explanation  that  I  had  had  a  long  day's  walk,  and  would  be 
obliged  to  him  for  a  night's  shelter,  for  which  I  would  willingly  make 
any  remuneration,  he  very  brusquely  informed  me  that  at  the  other 
end  of  the  lake  there  was  "  a  public"  and  that  he  "  had  no  room  for 
me."  I  begged  for  the  accommodation  even  of  a  barn,  but  he  was 
inexorable  ;  "  for  the  loan  of  a  boat  ?  "  His  brief  answer  was,  that 
about  half  a  mite  off  there  was  "  a  cottager  who  kept  a  boat ; "  and 
with  this,  returning  to  his  house,  he  shut  the  door  in  a  sufficiently 
intelligible  manner. 

My  guide  had  now  made  his  way  down  the  hill,  and  rejoined  me, 
observing,  "  Eh,  sir,  ye  're  no  that  tired  noo,  I  see  ! "  He  informed 
me  that  the  place  was  called  Portnellan,  and  that  the  churlish  laird's 
name  was  Graham.  But  there  was  no  time  to  lose,  and  we  made  at 
once  for  the  boatman's  cottage.  Arrived  there,  the  boat,  at  no  great 
distance,  with  two  men  in  it,  was  hailed,  and  a  bargain  made  with  them 
to  take  me  to  the  other  end  of  the  Loch.  Having  paid  and  parted 
with  my  guide,  we  went  briskly  on  our  way  up  the  lake.  The  even- 
ing shades  were  falling  fast  when  we  had  rowed  about  four  miles,  and, 
being  still  damp  after  my  profuse  perspiration,  I  felt  quite  chilled  by  the 
cold  air  of  the  lake.  My  feet  were  numbed,  and  finding  myself  unequal 
to  further  exertion,  I  desired  the  men  to  pull  to  the  left-hand  shore, 
where  up  the  high  sloping  bank  I  saw  a  sort  of  one-storied  cottage- 
building  of  two  or  three  rooms.  As  I  approached  it  four  or  five  dogs 


134  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAI-.  Xlf 

came  out,  and  with  their  furious  barking  kept  me  at  bay,  till  the 
owner,  a  stout-looking  peasant,  about  thirty  years  old,  appeared,  and 
driving  them  away,  inquired  my  business.  This  was  soon  told  ;  I 
was  wearied  out,  and  he  could  give  me  shelter  for  the  night,  a  sheaf 
of  straw  and  a  crust  of  bread,  I  would  pay  him  handsomely.  "  Oh," 
he  replied,  "  you  Southern  gentlemen  think  a  poor  Highlander  can't 
give  you  a  bed ;  but  you  shall  have  a  bed,  and  blankets  too,  and 
sheets  too,  whichever  you  like  best :  walk  in,  sir."  The  boatmen 
were  appointed  to  call  for  me  next  morning,  and  most  thankfully  did 
I  follow  my  kind  host  into  his  lowly,  hospitable  abode. 

He  led  me  into  an  inner  room,  evidently  the  parlor  of  the  rustic 
dwelling ;  the  walls  were  in  some  places  plastered,  but  in  others  the 
rough  stones  of  the  wall  were  left  bare.  Making  up  a  good  peat  fire 
on  the  open  hearth,  and  helping  me  to  pull  off  my  soaked  boots,  he 
seemed  intent  on  doing  his  best  for  my  comfort ;  but  when  I  asked 
him,  feeling  dreadfully  chilled,  if  he  could  oblige  me  with  a  glass  of 
whisky,  he  made  no  answer,  and  I  perceived  a  disinclination  to  com- 
ply with  my  request.  Did  he  suspect  me  to  be  a  branch  of  the  excise 
on  a  detective  errand  ?  At  length,  after  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour's 
conversation  on  sundry  matters,  he  went  out  and  returned  with  a  bot- 
tle, from  which  he  poured  me  a  bumper  of  the  cordial  beverage  —  a 
nectarean  draught  to  my  chilly  frame  —  real  mountain  dew.  After 
some  time  a  servant  lassie  laid  a  clean  cloth,  spoons,  knives,  and  soup- 
plates  on  the  table ;  and  whilst  I  was  wondering,  with  the  fear  of  a 
haggis  present  to  me,  what  our  supper  was  to  consist  of,  a  large  basin 
covered  over  was  brought  in,  which  to  my  great  contentment  proved 
full  of  mashed  potatoes,  prepared  «  merveille.  This,  with  rich  new 
milk  poured  over  it,  gave  me  a  supper,  the  relish  of  which  I  can  well 
remember.  Cheese  and  oatcake,  with  whisky-toddy,  crowned  the 
delicious  repast.  My  good  host  showed  me  into  a  little  room  adjoin- 
ing, that  measured  about  six  feet  by  eight,  on  one  side  of  which  was  a 
bed  with  clean  coarse  sheets,  and  a  basin  and  towel  perfectly  con- 
venient. The  sky  showing  itself  through  some  breaks  in  the  roof, 
tended  perhaps  a  little  to  prolong  my  musings,  but  did  not  otherwise 
interfere  with  a  good  night's  rest.  The  very  peculiarity  and  novelty 
of  the  circumstances  and  the  situation  added  to  my  enjoyment. 

Next  morning  early,  wrapped  in  my  cloak  and  only  partially 
dressed,  I  was  passing  out  of  the  door,  when  my  host  bade  me  good 
morning,  and  inquired  where  I  was  going.  I  told  him  to  bathe  in  the 
lake.  The  water  of  the  lake  was  too  cold,  he  said,  and  asked,  "  Can 
you  swim  ?  "  Having  satisfied  him  on  that  head,  he  directed  me  to 
take  the  path  along  the  field  to  my  left,  which  would  bring  me  to 
"  the  burnie  that  runs  into  the  Loch,"  where  I  should  find  a  conven- 
ient place  to  bathe.  Following  the  path,  I  soon  came  within  sound 
of  the  rushing  stream,  which,  shrouded  in  a  deep  cleft,  was  pouring 
over  its  rocky  bed  down  the  long  steep  slope  of  the  hill.  The  place 
I  reached,  descending  to  the  water's  brink,  was  subject  for  a  painter's 
pencil  or  a  poet's  pen.  The  burn,  that  in  its  downward  course  had 


1818-19  STUDY  IN  A  LUNATIC  ASYLUM.  135 

been  rushing  over  and  between  the  rocks  with  noisy  violence,  welled 
in  this  hollow,  as  if  for  a  temporary  rest,  into  a  round,  silent  pool, 
about  fourteen  or  fifteen  yards  across,  of  such  transparent  clearness  as 
made  it  appear  of  inconsiderable  depth,  showing  every  stone  and  weed 
beneath  its  surface.  The  rocks  at  either  side  looked  as  if  prepared 
by  the  kind  genius  of  the  place  as  seats  and  tables  for  a  Naiad's  toi- 
let, whilst  the  thick,  overhanging  foliage  screened  it  from  every  pass- 
ing sight.  It  was  a  most  enchanting  scene.  The  water  was  very 
deep,  and  the  glow  I  felt  after  a  good  swim  in  it  was  most  delightful. 
I  have  never  forgotten  the  Naiad's  grotto,  for  such  it  might  appropri- 
ately be  called.  After  a  capital  breakfast  on  tea,  oa.tcake,  eggs,  and 
mutton-ham,  the  boatmen  appeared,  and  I  took  a  grateful  leave  of  my 
hospitable  Highlander,  with  the  utmost  difficulty  compelling  him  to 
accept  a  token  of  my  obligation  to  him.  His  deliberate  manner, 
sound  good  sense,  and  ready  and  conscientious  kindness  gave  me  an 
admirable  specimen  of  Scotch  character. 

We  rowed  merrily  up  the  lake,  visiting  the  island,  the  Goblin's  Cave, 
and  every  spot  that  Scott's  poetry  has  invested  with  a  never-dying  in- 
terest. Passing  through  the  Trosachs,  my  onward  walk  in  company  of 
a  guide  was  to  Aberfoyle,  and  thence  along  the  banks  of  Loch  Ard, 
over  the  shoulder  of  Ben  Lomond  to  a  very  snug  inn  at  Rowardinnan, 
on  the  shores  of  Loch  Lomond.  The  next  day  gave  me  in  a  steam- 
boat the  tour  of  the  Lake  as  high  as  Rob  Roy's  Cave,  and  the  night 
found  me  comfortably  housed  in  my  hotel  at  Glasgow.  Desirous  of 
turning  to  the  best  account  my  short  stay  here,  I  made  the  round, 
with  my  friend  John  Tait,  of  the  objects  most  worthy  of  attention. 
The  beautiful  crypt  of  St.  Mungo's  Cathedral  —  the  most  beautiful 
and  picturesque  I  have  ever  seen  —  I  never  fail  to  revisit  when  stay- 
ing in  this  noble  city.  The  college,  with  its  Hunterian  Museum,  the 
scenes  associated  with  Scott's  "  Rob  Roy,"  the  Tolbooth,  the  Salt  Mar- 
ket (to  whose  dirty  extent  faith  in  the  great  novelist's  relation  lent 
interest  as  the  residence  of  Baillie  Jarvie),  came  within  our  tour. 

But  uppermost  in  my  mind  was  always  the  cultivation  of  my  art, 
and  as  the  aim  and  object  of  all  true  art  is  the  skillful  blending  of  the 
real  and  the  ideal,  it  becomes  the  student's  study  to  store  his  mind 
abundantly  with  facts,  at  the  same  time  that  he  gives  free  scope  to  the 
exercise  of  his  imagination.  Whatever,  therefore,  might  extend  my 
experience  of  the  various  aspects  human  nature  "may  put  on  in  the 
vicissitudes  of  pain  and  pleasure,  suffering  or  enjoyment,  I  regarded 
as  a  needful  and  imperative  study.  Under  this  persuasion  it  was  that 
I  braced  up  my  nerves  (always  acutely  sensitive  to  a  sight  of  suffering) 
to  go  through  the  lunatic  asylum.  The  superintendent  was  a  very  in- 
telligent person,  whose  conduct  of  the  establishment  had  gained  him 
great  credit ;  he  was  most  courteous  ;  and  in  directing  my  attention  to 
the  several  peculiarities  of  the  hapless  inmates,  greatly  assisted  me  in 
the  earnest  scrutiny  with  which  I  watched  every  movement,  every 
play  of  feature  of  those  stricken  creatures.  It  was  reading  one  of  the 
most  harrowing  pages  out  of  Nature's  book,  and  so  faithfully  conned 


136  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XII. 

over  that  every  character  was  impressed  indelibly  on  my  memory.  I 
had  gone  through  two  wards,  and  when  my  conductor  was  applying 
his  key  to  the  grated  door  of  the  third,  I  declined,  being,  indeed,  quite 
unable  to  extend  my  observations  farther.  I  took  from  thence  les- 
sons, painful  ones  indeed,  that  in  after-years  added  to  the  truth  of  my 
representations. 

The  remainder  of  the  day,  till  my  friend  left  me  in  the  evening  at 
my  lodgings,  was  passed  in  sight-seeing.  I  went  to  bed  at  an  early 
hour,  and  had  scarce  laid  down  when  every  image  that  I  had  so  care- 
fully scanned  at  the  asylum  in  the  morning  came  before  me  in  such  ter- 
rible reality,  such  fleshly  distinctness,  that,  unable  to  shut  them  from 
my  sight,  I  said  to  myself  in  a  perfect  agony  of  endurance,  "  I  would 
give  worlds  to  believe  this  a  dream."  It  was  really  horrible,  and 
worked  me  into  a  state  of  mental  agony  that  made  me  fear  I  was  on 
the  point  of  losing  my  senses.  I  had  only  at  last  power  left  me  to 
raise  myself  on  my  knees  upon  my  bed,  and  in  a  few  despairing  words 
pray  with  frantic  fervor  that  I  might  only  retain  my  intellect  whilst  I 
lived,  when  I  must  have  sunk  down  in  a  state  of  insensibility,  and 
have  found  eventually  in  sleep  a  refuge  from  the  dreadful  vision. 
About  half  a  year  after  the  same  resemblances  returned  to  me,  but  so 
shadowy  and  faint  that  I  could  perceive  it  to  be  an  illusion. 

From  Glasgow  I  went  to  a  successful  engagement  with  my  father  at 
Swansea,  accompanying  him  from  thence  to  Bristol,  where  a  fort- 
night's performances  concluded  my  London  vacation.  At  Bristol  or- 
ders from  the  managers  reached  me  to  prepare  myself  in  the  part  of 
.Munluff  for  Monday,  September  6  (1819),  to  begin  the  Covent  Gar- 
den season ;  for  Wednesday  in  Joseph  Surface,  which  I  had  never 
acted  ;  for  the  following  Monday  in  Rolla  ;  and  to  be  perfect  in  the 
new  character  of  Mordend  for  the  second  Wednesday.  This  was  cer- 
tainly rather  high  pressure.  MacdufF  I  was  obliged  to  decline,  and  to 
give  every  unoccupied  minute  to  the  other  parts.  Hitherto  my  on- 
ward and  upward  course  had  been  looked  on  with  hope,  and  not  with- 
out confidence,  by  many  habitual  frequenters  of  the  theater,  while  by 
others  a  certain  amount  of  talent,  not  treading  on  the  heels  of  their 
own  favorites,  was  grudgingly  conceded  to  me.  But  now  a  wider 
field  seemed  opening  to  me,  and  in  my  return  to  London  for  the  en- 
suing season  the  opportunity  for  fairly  testing  my  powers  shone  out  in 
prospect  to  me. 


1819-20.  LETTERS  FROM  BROTHER.  137 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

1819-1820.  —  Letters  from  brother  in  India  —  London  season — Favorable 
opening  —  Joseph  Surface  —  Kolla  —  Mordent  —  Henry  V.  —  Othello  —  Rob 
Roy — Biron  —  Hotspur — Clytns  —  Desperate  condition  of  Covent  Garden 
Theater  —  First  appearance  in  Richard  III.  —  Complete  success  —  Contempo- 
rary criticisms — Effect  on  the  treasury  of  the  theater  —  Altered  position  — 
Account  of  Mrs.  Siddons  in  Rowe's  "Tamerlane"  —  First  appearance  in 
Coriolanus  —  Sonnet  by  Barry  Cornwall  —  A  fickle  lady  —  Jaques  —  Robert 
Dudley  —  Front  de  Bceuf  in  "  Ivanhoe  "  —  Henri  Quatre  —  Edmund  in 
"  Lear  "  —  Kean's  Lear  —  Production  of  "  Virginius  "  —  Sheridan  Knowles  — 
Dedication  of  "  Virginius  "  to  Macready  —  Hazlitt  — Jackson  —  Appearance  in 
Macbeth  —  Refusal  of  pecuniary  gifts  on  benefits. 

MY  correspondence  had  been  regularly  maintained  with  my  brother, 
which  during  our  London  vacation  brought  me  his  account  of  an  action 
in  which  he  had  been  engaged  in  the  spring  —  the  storming  of  a  hill 
fort,  Asseerghur.  The  following  short  extract  is  eminently  character- 
istic of  him : 

"  On  the  orders  arriving  I  waited  on  Major  Dalrymple,,to  resign  the  command 
of  the  company  I  was  attached  to,  and  request  permission  to  join  the  storming 
party.  He  very  kindly  granted  my  demand.  The  doctors  desired  me  not  to  go, 
but  away  I  marched  in  spite  of  the  faculty.  However,  I  had  cause  to  confess  that 
they  were  no  fools,  nor  I  a  second  John  of  Gaunt.  As  long  as  the  running  and 
shouting  lasted,  I  could  have  followed  the  bubble  which  charmed  me  on  over  im- 
possibilities ;  but  after  standing  in  the  sun  some  hours,  I  found  the  fag  of  our 
night  march,  my  consequent  exertion,  the  heat  of  the  weather,  etc.,  all  working 
so  strongly  against  a  constitution  debilitated  by  two  months'  severe  illness,  that 
faith  !  I  thought  I  was  going  to  '  greet  the  objects  of  my  early  love.'  However,  I 
was  determined  you  should  have  old  Cato's  consolation  if  I  left  you,  and  I  am  well 
aware  that  it  was  my  ardent  desire  to  merit  your  approbation  as  much  as  any  other 
cause  that  kept  me  up.  I  knew  I  was  uttering  your  sentiments  when,  in  reply  to 
the  surgeon,  who  requested  me  to  evade,  at  least,  a  part  of  my  duty,  I  said,  'My 
dear  Evans,  I  consider  the  man  who  fears  to  risk  his  health  in  the  performance  of 
his  duty  not  a  bit  more  respectable  a  character  than  the  rascal  who  deserts  his 
comrade  in  danger ;  I  may  recover  from  the  illness  you  seem  to  apprehend,  but  I 
never  could  recover  my  own  good  opinion  if  I  followed  your  advice.'  It  is  to  you 
I  owe  every  feeling  which  gratifies  and  supports  me." 

"Fort  St.  George,  July,  1818.  —  Your  friendship  is  invaluable.  I  know  not  a 
truly  happy  feeling  I  have  enjoyed  for  which  I  am  not  more  or  less  indebted  to  it. 
In  thinking  of  you  I  forget  all  in  life  that  is  not  to  be  loved,  and  bless  my  fate 
that  made  me  what  I  am.  The  affectionate  solicitude  for  my  honor  and  happiness 
which  appears  in  every  line  you  have  written  claims  my  warmest  gratitude.  Your 
advice  shall  be  scrupulously  observed.  Do  not  in  future  spare  it,  for  in  no  country 
can  it  ever  be  so  essentially  necessary.  Men  become  here  degenerate,  idle,  dissi- 
pated, discontented,  and  not  unfrequently  disgraced,  by  such  imperceptible  pro- 
gressions, that  the  warning  voice  of  my  better  genius  cannot  be  too  often  heard. 
You  know  the  influence  you  possess  in  all  that  regards  me,  and  pray  continue 
that  brotherly  kindness  which  has  already  so  much  benefited  me.  —  E.  N.  M." 

It  was  under  adverse  and  unpropitious  circumstances  that  the  curtain 
of  Covent  Garden  Theater  rose  this  season,  September  the  6th,  1819  ; 
but  from  hence  an  epoch  dates  in  my  professional  history.  Hitherto  I 
had  wanted  room  for  my  exertions,  which  now  the  disasters  of  the  sea- 
son laid  open  to  me.  The  absence  of  Miss  O'Neill  and  Miss  Stephens, 


138  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIII. 

on  leave  till  the  winter,  of  Listen  from  illness,  and  the  secession  of 
Young,  made  deplorable  gaps  in  the  heretofore  attractive  company  of 
Covent  Garden.  Elliston  became  the  lessee  of  Drury  Lane,  which  he 
opened  most  auspiciously  with  a  corps  of  great  comic  power,  holding 
Kean  in  reserve  till  its  attraction  began  to  droop.  A  fatality  seemed 
to  impend  over  the  fortunes  of  Covent  Garden.  The  prestige  of  the 
theater  received  a  withering  shock  from  the  injudicious  selection  of  the 
opening  play,  "Macbeth,"  the  cast  of  which  (Lady  Macbeth,  Mrs. 
Bunn  ;  Macduff,  Yates  ;  and  the  noble  Thane,  Charles  Kemble)  could 
awaken  little  hope  of  very  rapturous  applause.  After  Young's  with- 
drawal the  plea  of  seniority  would  seem  to  entitle  Charles  Kemble  to 
the  part  of  Macbeth,  to  which  he  was,  unhappily,  utterly  incompetent. 
From  a  cordial  reception  on  his  entrance  the  audience  gradually  re- 
lapsed into  cold  attention,  thence  to  indifference  and  impatience,  which 
in  the  third  act  found  vent  in  derisive  expression  of  weariness  and  dis- 
gust, ending  in  the  fifth  with  an  explosion  of  disapprobation  such  as  has 
been  rarely  provoked  by  the  performance  'of  an  actor  of  talent.  In 
many  of  the  chivalric  characters,  and  in  those  which  were  technically 
known  as  appertaining  to  "  genteel  comedy,"  he  justly  held  a  high  rep- 
utation ;  but  the  lofty  tragedy  was  beyond  his  reach,  and  even  Mrs. 
Siddons  used  to  say  of  him,  "  Why  will  Charles  wish  to  attempt  the 
high  tragedy  parts  ?  He  ought  to  know  that  the  public  will  never  re- 
ceive him  in  them." 

My  turn  now  came  on  ;  and  certainly  my  first  appearance  this  sea- 
son (September  8th)  was  one  of  no  good  augury.  I  had  barely  time 
to  master  the  words  of  Joseph  Surface,  and  was  able  to  do  little  more 
in  its  performance  than  utter  them  correctly.  In  after  years  I  made 
this  one  of  my  most  perfect  representations.  Rolla  in  "Pizarro  "  was 
a  success,1  followed  two  nights  after  (September  loth)  by  a  character 
on  the  study  of  which  I  had  bestowed  great  pains,  and  in  which  were 
scenes  of  tragic  power  that  would  task  the  best  efforts  of  the  most  fin- 
ished artist.  The  play  was  called  an  alteration  of  Holcroft's  "  De- 
serted Daughter  ;  "  the  principal  alteration  was  in  its  title,  which  now 
became,  "  The  Steward,  or  Fashion  and  Feeling ;  a  play  in  five  acts, 
by  S.  Beazley,  Esq."  The  name  of  my  part  was  Mordent.2  The  play 
was  acted  several  nights,  and  followed  by  Shakespeare's  "  King  Henry 

i  From  the  Times.  — "  The  part  of  Rolla  was  sustained  by  Macready  in  a 
manner  that  betrayed  little  inferiority  to  any  of  his  predecessors.  He  would 
be  still  greater  if  lie  did  not  so  frequently  affect  a  lowness  of  tone  in  sptak- 

!"£•" 

*  From  the  Times.  —  "  Mordent  is  a  part  extremely  well  adapted  for  dramatic 
effect,  and  it  found  a  very  able  representative  in  Macready.  The  scene  at  the  close 
of  the  fourth  act,  where  he  discovers  that  Joanna,  in  addition  to  the  consequences 
of  his  abandonment,  is  exposed  to  seduction  and  infamy,  almost  reminded  us  of 
those  passages  in  the  character  of  Sir  Giles  Overreach  which  Kean  has  rendered 
so  famous.  In  this  character  the  feeling  and  power  of  the  actor  are  called  forth, 
particularly  in  the  fourth  act,  where  the  treachery  of  his  steward,  in  whom  he  had 
confided,  is  disclosed  to  him,  and  where  he  learns  that  by  his  own  artifices  his  own 
child  has  been  led  to  the  verge  of  destruction.  These  scenes  produced  a  strong 
sensation,  and  the  act-drop  fell  amidst  shouts  of  applause." 


1819-20.          BAD   CONDITION  OF  COVENT  GARDEN.  139 

V."  (October  4th),  at  that  time  represented  almost  as  barely  as  the 
poet  describes  : 

"  With  four  or  five  most  vile  and  ragged  foils 
Right  ill-disposed  in  brawl  ridiculous." 

My  performance  of  the  character,  which  was  much  applauded,  I  had, 
however,  greatly  improved,  and  it  added  to  my  popularity.1  Othello, 
Rob  Roy,  Biron  in  Southern's  "  Fatal  Marriage,"  Hotspur,  and  Clytus 
in  Lee's  "  Alexander  the  Great,"  came  next  in  succession.  A  gen- 
tleman of  the  name  of  Amherst  (I  think  from  the  Surrey  Theater) 
appeared  as  the  Macedonian  hero.  The  remarkable  effect  of  this 
performance  was  in  the  contrast  between  the  inaudible  tones  and  the 
resounding  action  of  the  new  aspirant,  whose  voice,  scarcely  ever  rising 
above  a  whisper,  could  not  be  heard  over  the  orchestra,  whilst  his  ac- 
tion, a  repeated  clapping  together  of  the  hands,  echoed  through  the 
house.  At  first  the  listeners  were  disposed  to  be  out  of  humor  ;  but 
soon  in  a  gamesome  spirit,  eliciting  fun  out  of  the  absurdity,  they  took 
it  in  jest,  and  through  the  night  kept  up  a  sort  of  running  fire,  a  suc- 
cession of  minute  guns  from  boxes,  pit,  and  galleries,  responding  in 
loud  single  claps  to  the  only  audible  signals  made  to  them  or  to  us,  the 
dramatis  personce,  by  the  whispering  Alexander,  till  the  curtain  fell 
amidst  roars  of  laughter. 

The  condition  of  our  lately  flourishing  and  popular  theater  had  now 
become  almost  desperate.  Indeed  there  seemed  scarcely  a  chance  of 
keeping  it  open.  The  original  building  debt,  with  its  weight  of  inter- 
est, was  still  a  heavy  pressure  on  the  concern,  requiring  extraordinary 
receipts  to  meet  the  frequent  incoming  bills,  and  buoy  up  the  credit 
of  the  establishment ;  whilst  neither  in  tragedy,  comedy,  nor  opera 
did  it  appear  possible  for  the  managers,  during  the  absence  of  so  many 
attractive  performers,  to  present  an  entertainment  likely  to  engage 
the  public  attention.  As  if  to  aggravate  still  more  the  distressful  load 
that  was  bearing  down  the  property,  a  personal  quarrel  with  Mr.  Har- 
ris induced  Charles  Kemble  temporarily  to  withdraw  his  name  from 
the  company's  list.  The  horizon  was  dark  indeed,  not  a  glimmer  of 
hope  appearing  to  raise  our  drooping  spirits.  Ruin  seemed  inevitable, 
and  was  so  near  a  culminating  point,  that,  as  Mr.  Harris  some  time 
afterwards  told  my  friend  Sheil,  he  "  did  not  know  in  the  morning 
when  he  rose  whether  he  should  not  shoot  himself  before  the  night !  " 
Individually  one  could  do  little ;  but  considering  that  a  crew  should 

1  From  the  Morning  Herald.  —  "  Covent  Garden  Theater.  —  Shakespeare's  '  King 
Henry  V.'  was  performed  at  this  theater  last  night.  The  character  of  that  war- 
like and  virtuous  prince  was  sustained  by  Mr.  Macready.  In  the  fourth  act,  when 
the  trump  of  battle  sounds  in  his  ear,  and 

'  The  warlike  Harry,  like  himself, 
Assumes  the  port  of  Mars,' 

'his  performance  was  truly  splendid.  His  delivery  of  the  invocation  to  the  '  God  of 
battles,'  and  of  the  noble  speech  which  unfolds  the  anticipated  glories  of  '  St. 
Crispin's  Day,'  is,  we  venture  to  say,  unexcelled  on  the  stage." 


140  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIII. 

lend  their  best  aid  to  lighten  a  sinking  ship,  I  proposed  to  several  of 
the  leading  actors  that  all  the  performers  rated  at  above  £10  per  wri-k 
should  agree  to  relinquish  their  weekly  salaries  until  Christmas,  on 
condition  of  receiving  the  arrears  after  that  date.  By  some  the  sug- 
gestion was  well  received,  others  demurred  to  it ;  but  the  managers 
took  advantage  of  it,  and,  the  emergencies  of  the  theater  making  it 
compulsory  on  all,  there  was  "  no  treasury "  on  several  succeeding 
Saturdays. 

And  now  came  on  what  I  must  regard  as  the  turning-point  of  my 
life.  All  is  present  to  my  mind  as  if  occurring  yesterday.  Under  the 
critical  circumstances  described  above  every  one  connected  with  Co- 
vent  Garden  had,  of  course,  an  interest  in  devising  schemes  for  re- 
establishing the  fashion  it  had  lost ;  and  many  were  the  wild,  unavail- 
ing recommendations  of  novelties  and  revivals  from  different  quarters; 
but  the  box  office  was  the  pulse  of  the  theater,  where  the  state  of  pub- 
lic feeling  was  most  sensibly  felt,  and  the  general  appetite  indicated  ; 
and  from  hence  the  urgent  demand  was  almost  daily  made  that  I 
should  appear  in  "  King  Richard  III."  Mr.  Harris,  not  at  first  at- 
taching much  importance  to  the  experiment,  proposed  it  to  me.  Why 
I  should  recoil  from  an  attempt  so  flattering  to  my  ambition  may  ap- 
pear to  some  scarcely  intelligible  ;  but  there  was  much  to  lose  in  the 
event  of  failure,  and  in  a  play  worn  threadbare  before  the  public,  what 
could  I  look  to  gain  ?  Every  character  I  had  of  late  assumed  had  been 
for  me  a  stepping-stone  to  popularity,  and  the  prospect  of  a  leading 
part  with  Miss  O'Neill  in  Shell's  best  play,  "  Th'e  Huguenot,"  which 
the  author  had  expressed  his  intention  of  dedicating  to  me,  promised 
to  confirm  my  most  sanguine  expectations.  For  Richard  my  figure 
was  ill  adapted ;  and  there  was  in  threatening  array  against  me  the 
prejudice  of  partisans,  and  the  prepossession  of  the  town  in  favor  of 
Kean's  admirable  performance,  which  would  denounce  as  presump- 
tuous my  short-comings,  and  thus  retard  my  progress,  if  not  sink  me 
permanently  in  the  estimation  of  those  who  had  hitherto  upheld  me. 
I  shrank  from  the  perilous  attempt  with  most  determinate  repugnance. 
Days  passed,  and  the  darkening  fortunes  of  the  theater  still  deepening 
in  gloom,  Mr.  Harris,  importuned  by  Brandon,  the  box-office  keeper, 
who  now  was  backed  by  Reynolds,  renewed  his  instances  with  more 
urgency,  which  came  at  last  to  positive  command  ;  the  desperate  situa- 
tion of  the  theater  would  "  no  longer  admit  of  vacillation  or  coy  timid- 
ity ;  I  must  do  it."  My  request  for  a  little  more  time  to  re-read 
and  reconsider  the  part  failing  to  reconcile  me  to  the  risk  I  must  en- 
counter, I  still  pressed  for  further  law. 

But  the  question  was  decided  for  me.  On  Tuesday  morning,  Octo- 
ber 19th,  on  my  way  to  Reynolds's  house,  where  Mr.  Harris  resided 
when  in  London,  to  my  consternation  I  read  in  the  Covent  Garden 
play-bills  the  announcement  for  the  following  Monday  of  "  The  his- 
torical tragedy  of  '  King  Richard  III.'  The  Duke  of  Gloster  by  Mr. 
Macready :  his  first  appearance  in  that  character."  It  was  with  a 
sickening  sinking  of  the  heart  I  turned  back  to  my  lodgings.  There 


1819  20.  APPEARANCE  AS  RICHARD  HI.  141 

was  now  no  escape  !  I  was  committed  to  the  public,  and  must  un- 
dergo the  ordeal.  No. alternative  was  left  n^e  but  to  put  on,  in  Ham- 
let's phrase,  a  "  compelled  valor,"  and  devote  my  energies  of  mind  and 
body  to  the  task  before  me.  All  that  history  could  give  me  I  had 
already  ferreted  out ;  and  for  my  portrait  of  the  character,  the  self- 
reliant,  wily,  quick-sighted,  decisive,  inflexible  Plantagenet,  I  went 
direct  to  the  true  source  of  inspiration,  the  great  original,  endeavoring 
to  carry  its  spirit  through  the  sententious  and  stagy  lines  of  Gibber  ; 
not  searching  for  particular  "  points "  to  make,  but  rendering  the  hy- 
pocrisy of  the  man  deceptive  and  persuasive  in  its  earnestness,  and 
presenting  him  in  the  execution  of  his  will  as  acting  with  lightning- 
like  rapidity.  I  pass  by  the  alternations  of  hope  and  fear  in  which  my 
intermediate  days  of  preparation  were  passed,  and  in  which  there  was 
little  to  encourage  me.  Nothing  better  than  the  old  dresses  of  the 
wardrobe  were  allowed  me,  and  even  for  the  alteration  of  these  I  had 
.to  pay.  The  night  of  trial  came  (October  25th,  1819),  to  which  I 
might  truly  apply  Shakespeare's  words  : 

"  This  is  the  night 
That  either  makes  me,  or  fordoes  me  quite." 

A  crowded  house  testified  to  the  public  interest  in  the  result.  The 
pit  was  literally  jammed.  The  audience  were  evidently  in  a  very  ex- 
cited state.  The  scene  had  scarcely  changed  to  that  of  the  White 
Tower,  in  which  Gloster  makes  his  entrance,  when  the  applause  broke 
out  in  anticipation  of  my  appearance.  This,  which  was  intended  to 
cheer  me,  rather  tended  to  increase  my  nervousness.  It  was,  however, 
to  me  like  a  life-and-death  grapple,  and  I  threw  my  whole  soul  into  all 
I  did.  My  auditors  followed  the  early  scenes  with  the  deepest  interest, 
frequently  seizing  opportunities  to  applaud.'  A  friendly  whisper,  "  It 's 
all  going  well ! "  from  Terry,  who  acted  Buckingham,  was  better  than 
music  in  my  ear.  At  the  repulse  of  Buckingham,  "  I  'in  busy  ;  thou 
troublest  me  !  I  'm  not  i'  the  vein,"  the  plaudits  were  sudden  and 
hearty,  and  loud  and  long  ;  but  it  was  in  the  succeeding  scene  that  the 
fortune  of  the  night  was  decided.  At  the  close  of  the  compunctious 
soliloquy  that  Gibber  has  introduced  Tyrrel  enters  :  with  all  the  eager- 
ness of  fevered  impatience  I  rushed  to  him,  inquiring  of  him  in  short, 
broken  sentences  the  children's  fate  ;  with  rapid  decision  on  the  mode 
of  disposing  of  them,  hastily  gave  him  his  orders,  and  hurrying  him 
away,  exclaimed  with  triumphant  exultation,  "  Why  then  my  loudest 
fears  are  hushed  ! "  The  pit  rose  to  a  man,  and  continued  waving 
hats  and  handkerchiefs  in  a  perfect  tempest  of  applause  for  some 
minutes.  The  battle  was  won  !  The  excitement  of  the  audience  was 
maintained  at  fever-heat  through  the  remainder  of  the  tragedy.  The 
tent-scene  closed  with  acclamations,  that  drowned  the  concluding 
couplet,  and  at  the  death  the  pit  rose  again  with  one  accord,  waving 
their  hats  with  long-continued  cheers  ;  nor  with  the  fall  of  the  curtain 
did  the  display  of  enthusiasm  relax.  Connor,  who  played  Tyrrel,  the 
actor  appointed,  was  not  allowed  to  give  out  the  play,  and  the  practice 


142  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIII. 

was  this  evening  first  introduced  at  Covent  Garden  of  "  calling  on  " 
the  principal  actor.  In  obedience  to  the  impatient  and  persevering 
summons  of  the  house,  I  was  desired  by  Fawcett  to  go  before  the  cur- 
tain ;  and  accordingly  I  announced  the  tragedy  for  repetition,  amidst 
the  gratulating  shouts  that  carried  the  assurance  of  complete  success 
to  my  agitated  and  grateful  heart. 

I  make  extracts  from  several  of  the  papers,  but  the  criticism  of  the 
"  Morning  Chronicle  "  is  given  entire,  as  more  accurately  describing 
the  predicament  in  which  failure  would  have  placed  me.  The  writer, 
as  I  subsequently  learned,  was  James  Haines,  author  of  "  Mary 
Stuart,"  "  Conscience,"  "  Durazzo,"  etc. 

All  concerned  and  interested  in  the  management  were  assembled  in 
Fawcett's  room,  and  profuse  in  their  praises.  Congratulations  poured 
in  upon  me,  and  the  next  day's  newspapers  recorded  in  no  niggard 
spirit  the  triumph  of  the  night. 

From  the  Morning  Chronicle.  —  "  Last  night  was  a  most  important  one  in  the- 
dramatic  life  of  Mr.  Macready.  He  undertook  for  the  first  time  the  character  of 
Richard  the  Third,  in  Shakespeare's  celebrated  tragedy.  The  effort  was  hazard- 
ous in  the  highest  degree  :  a  failure  must  have  stamped  it  as  presumptuous,  and 
in  the  present  temper  of  the  public  mind,  warm  and  enthusiastic  as  it  is  in  admi- 
ration of  Mr.  Kean's  admirable  performance,  there  was  no  middle  point  between 
disgrace  and  glory.  Mr.  Macready's  professional  reputation  was,  in  fact  at  stake ; 
he  has  saved  and  established  it  upon  higher  grounds  than  ever.  His  Richard  was 
perfectly  original ;  yet  there  was  no  apparent  struggle  after  originality,  no  labori- 
ous effort  to  mark  a  difference  in  passages  of  small  importance  —  the  expedient  of 
little  minds  to  escape  from  their  proper  sphere  of  imitation.  It  was  the  natural 
unforced  and  unaffected  effort  of  an  intellect  relying  on  its  own  powers,  and  mak- 
ing its  own  way  undisturbed  either  by  the  wish  or  the  apprehension  of  borrowing 
from  any  one.  The  performance  had  of  course  its  nnevenness.  In  some  of  the 
commencing  scenes  it  was  rather  tame,  but  its  distinguishing  feature  was  that  of 
rising  in  impression  as  the  play  advanced,  a  task  which  not  only  required  the 
strongest  mental  qualifications,  "but  such  physical  ones  as  perhaps  no  other  actor 
on  the  stage  possesses.  This  circumstance  of  itself  contributed  in  no  small  degree 
to  assist  that  air  of  novelty  which  certainly  pervaded  the  whole.  We  found  those 
parts  which  some  of  our  most  popular  Richards  have  been  obliged  to  slur  over, 
from  mere  exhaustion,  brought  into  prominent  display.  His  voice,  instead  of 
suffering  seemed  to  acquire  strength  as  he  proceeded,  and,  strange  to  say,  in  a 
part  of  such  exertion,  was  not  only  as  audible,  but  as  much  at  his  command"  in  all 
its  tones  and  modulations,  in  the  very  last  scene  as  in  that  which  commenced  his 
arduous  task.  It  would  be  impossible,  according  to  our  present  limits,  to  notice 
the  various  merits  which  an  enlightened  audience  caught  at  and  applauded  ;  but 
justice  requires  that  we  should  name  a  few.  His  courtship  of  Lady  Anne,  though 
by  no  means  the  most  successful  of  his  scenes,  is,  nevertheless,  deserving  of  partic- 
ular mention  for  one  reason.  That  reason  is,  that  it  was  conducted  in  a  spirit  of 
assumed  sincerity,  and  witli  a  total  disregard  of  those  sarcastic  touches  which  tell 
so  well  in  the  acting,  while  they  detract  from  the  consistency  of  Richard's  di.-.-im- 
ulation.  The  first  burst  of  applause,  which  gave  an  indication  of  complete  suc- 
cess, was  that  excited  by  the  scene  in  the  Tower,  while  the  assassins  are  murdering 
the  children.  His  hurried  directions  for  the  disposal  of  the  bodies  was  tragical  in 
an  eminent  degree.  The  tent-scene  was  another  fine  display.  His  impetuosity 
and  resolution,  his  momentary  compunction  and  rapid  recovery,  were  all  marked 
in  the  different  scenes  with  extraordinary  fidelity  and  vigor.  His  death  was  also 
managed  with  the  best  effect ;  and  we  may  say  o"f  the  whole,  that  though  we  were 
prepared  to  expect  much  from  his  talents,  we  did  not  expect  so  much  as  their  dis- 
play impressed  us  with  on  the  occasion  of  which  we  are  speaking.  After  the  con- 
clusion of  the  play  he  was  called  for  to  announce  the  repetition  of  it  himself, 


1810-20.  CONTEMPORARY  CRITICISMS. 

which  he  did  according  to  the  summons  of  the  audience ;  and  there  can  be  but 
little  doubt  that  his  exertions  in  the  part  will  prove  attractive  for  a  considerable 
time.  We  have  studiously  avoided  all  comparisons  with  another  great  performer 
of  the  day.  It  is  not  necessary  to  the  reputation  of  either  that  the  other  should 
be  depreciated  :  or  if  it  is,  we  decline  the  ungrateful  office,  in  respect  to  the  public 
and  to  ourselves." 

From  the  Times.  —  "  Macready  appeared  last  night  in  the  character  of  Richard 
III.  for  the  first  time.  It  was  such  a  performance  as  could  only  result  from  great 
histrionic  talent,  combined  with  physical  and  mental  energy,  and  was  received  by 
the  audience  with  a  degree  of  applause  which  fully  sanctions  his  entering  a  higher 

sphere,  than  any  he  has  hitherto  moved  in The  audience  were  frequent 

in  their  testimonies  of  applause,  and  at  the  fall  of  the  curtain  accompanied  it  by 
the  waving  of  hats  and  handkerchiefs  in  long  continued  motion.  He  was  even 
called  for,  according  to  the  practice  adopted  at,  and  hitherto  we  had  hoped  con- 
fined to,  the  other  theater,  to  announce  the  play  for  repetition,  which,  after  silence 
had  been  obtained,  evidently  in  a  state  of  exhaustion,  he  complied  with,  and  made 
his  exit  under  a  renewal  of  the  applause  just  mentioned." 

From  the  Courier.  —  "Mr.  Macready  last  night  performed  the  arduous  character 
of  Richard  III.,  and  astonished  his  most  enthusiastic  admirers  with  a  display  of 
talent  which  they  scarcely  deemed  him  to  possess.  The  fate  of  this  actor  has  been 
somewhat  singular.  Unaided  by  any  concerted  system  of  applause  within  the 
theater,  or  by  any  equally  concerted  system  of  panegyric  without,  despising 
quackery  of  any  sort,  he  has  from  the  first  moment  of  his  appearance  on  the  Lon- 
don boards  been  gradually,  but  incessantly  gaining  upon  public  opinion.  Every 
time  he  has  appeared  he  has  acquired  fresh  fame.  He  did  not  burst  forth  at  first 
with  the  dazzling  brilliancy  of  a  meteor,  which  runs  a  blazing  but  a  fleeting 
course.  He  slowly  ascended  from  the  horizon,  till  now  he  has  attained  his  zenith, 
where  he  shines  with  a  vivid  lustre,  which,  however,  must  even  yet  continue  to 
increase,  and  which  will  have  in  it  no  other  tendency  to  decay  than  that  which  the 
mere  progress  of  time  brings  upon  all  human  excellence.  His  performance  last 
night  was  a  splendid  effort ;  and  we  never  witnessed  from  an  audience  such  vehe- 
ment and  impassioned  applause.  He  has  evidently  studied  the  diameter  with  a 
profound  discrimination  of  the  author's  meaning,  and  everywhere  his  conception 
and  execution  went  hand  in  hand.  His  fine,  mellow,  sonorous  voice  thrilled  upon 
the  ear  in  tones  which  reminded  us,  as  to  their  effect,  of  the  matchless  sway  of 
Siddons.  Upon  the  whole  he  has  made  a  stride  in  professional  fame  that  has 
placed  him  upon  its  pinnacle.  When  he  died  the  pit  rose  with  a  simultaneous  im- 
pulse, and  the  waving  of  hats  and  handkerchiefs  testified  the  unbounded  enthusiasm 
of  the  audience.  They  would  fain  have  had  the  curtain  drop  ;  but  the  remainder 
of  the  dialogue  was  impatiently  suffered  to  go  on  to  its  close.  Mr.  Connor  then 
came  forward  to  give  out  the  performance  for  this  evening ;  but  the  general  cry  of 
'  Macready,  Macready ! '  compelled  him  to  appear  once  more,  and  receive  the 
thundering  plaudits  of  the  house.  Mr.  Macready,  as  soon  as  silence  could  be  re- 
stored, announced  the  play  of  '  Richard  III.'  for  Thursday  next,  and  withdrew 
amid  the  loudest  plaudits  we  almost  ever  heard  within  the  walls  of  a  theater." 

Literary  Gazette.  —  "  Macready 's  Richard  III. — Our  habitual  readers,  aware  of 
the  very  high  estimation  in  which  we  have  always  held  Mr.  Macready's  powers, 
will  anticipate  that  we  were  prepared  for  a  triumph  on  this  occasion  ;  and  we  re- 
joice to  say  that  by  this  great  effort  that  gentleman  has  made  all  the  play-going 
world  think  as  much  of  him  as  we  do.  We  have,  however,  resolved  to  postpone  a 
detailed  examination  of  his  Richard,  because,  striking  and  intense  as  was  the  effect 
he  produced  on  Monday,  his  excessive  trepidation  and  want  of  self-possession  was 
so  apparent,  as  to  convince  us  that  his  every  future  assumption  of  the  character 
would  be  infinitely  more  masterly.  But  we  are  far  from  intending  to  convey  an 
idea  that  his  performance  was  not  admirable  ;  it  was  so  to  the  full  meaning  of  that 
very  lofty  word  ;  but  it  was  not  finished  into  what  we  think  we  shall  soon  see  it, 
a  concentration  of  all  the  best  Richards  of  modern  times,  with  a  fine  original  col- 
oring peculiar  to  the  artist  himself.  In  the  early  scenes  Mr.  Macready  subdued 
his  energies  considerably ;  but  afterwards  they  continued  mounting  to  the  end, 
when  he  was  hailed  with  as  general  and  enthusiastic  applause  as  ever  rewarded  an 


144  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIII. 

actor's  exertions.  Though  we  have  assigned  our  reason  for  not  going  into  de- 
tails, we  must  close  with  a  sort  of  anecdotic  specification  —  a  dialogue  which  we 
overheard,  at  a  place  of  eminent  critical  resort. 

"  '  Have  you  seen  Macready's ?  ' 

"'Never  was  more  delighted  in  my  life.' 

" '  What !  have  n't  you  seen  Kemhle  1 '  '  Yes ! '  '  And  Cooke  ? '  '  Yes  ! '  '  And 
Kean  ?  '  '  Yes ! '  '  And  never  was  more  delighted  ? '  'Never  ;  often  not  so  much.' 
'  Kemble  was  glorious,  and  almost  defies  competition.'  '  Granted ;  but  here  is 
competition  that  will  not  be  defied,  and  without  plucking  one  fibre  of  a  leaf  from 
our  fine  tragedian's  classic  crown,  I  will  not  adduce  him  to  depress  so  noble  a 
young  man  as  this  appears  to  be,  with  every  requisite  to  inspire  hoj>e  of  future  im- 
provement, without  a  defect  that  time  (a  short  time)  will  not  cure,  and  with  pres- 
ent excellence  such  as  has  rarely  been  seen  on  such  an  occasion.' " 

Stcond  Notice  of  the  Times.  —  "  Mr.  Macready  repeated  the  character  on  Thurs- 
day, and  by  this  second  performance  has  fully  established  his  claims  to  a  place  in 
the  highest  rank  in  the  drama.  It  had  all  the  advantage  over  the  first  that  might 
have  been  expected  from  a  man  of  spirit  and  judgment  who  had  the  talent  of  dis- 
cerning, by  that  sympathy  which  always  exists  between  an  actor  and  his  audience, 
where  he  tailed  in  making  a  due  impression,  and  of  redeeming  the  faults  revealed 
to  him  from  so  unequivocal  a  source.  The  character  was  rendered  more  consistent 
as  a  whole,  and  more  striking  in  the  prominent  passages.  Its  effect  was  fully 
proved  by  the  warm  and  even  enthusiastic  reception  given  to  it  by  the  audience- 
The  house  was  one  of  the  fullest  of  the  season." 

Examiner.  (By  Leigh  Hunt.)  —  "A  new  and  unexpected  circumstance  has 
taken  place  here,  which  promises  to  rescue  the  character  of  the  house  from  the 
pantomimic  degradation  into  which  it  was  fast  falling.  Mr.  Macready  has  per- 
formed Richard  twice  in  the  course  of  the  week,  with  the  greatest  applause.  We 
must  confess  we  went  to  see  him  with  no  sort  of  expectations  at  all  commensurate 
with  the  greatness  of  the  part.  We  thought  him  a  man  of  feeling,  but  little  able 
to  give  a  natural  expression  to  it,  and  so  taking  the  usual  refuge  in  declamation. 
He  appeared  to  us  one  of  the  best  readers  of  a  part  we  had  seen,  according  to  the 
received  notions  of  good  reading ;  but  with  the  exception  of  a  character  now  and 
then  bordering  on  the  melodramatic,  like  Kob  Roy  —  that  was  all. 

"  We  are  bound  to  say  that  we  found  our  anticipations  completely  erroneous. 
A  proper  sense  of  the  greatness  of  the  part  and  of  the  honorable  rank  as  an  actor 
which  he  now  had  to  sustain,  seems  to  have  roused  up  all  his  intelligence  to  give 
fit  companionship  to  his  sensibility.  We  expected  to  find  vagueness  and  gener- 
ality, and  we  found  truth  of  detail.  We  expected  to  find  declamation,  and  we 
found  thoughts  giving  a  soul  to  words.  We  expected  to  find  little  more  than 
showy  gestures  and  a  melodious  utterance,  and  we  found  expression  and  the  sub- 
stantial Richard. 

"  A  critic  on  these  particular  occasions  is  forced  upon  comparisons.  However, 
they  sometimes  enable  him  to  give  his  readers  a  more  exact  idea  of  a  performance. 
Compared  then  with  Mr.  Kcan,  we  should  say  that  a  division  of  merits,  usual 
enough  with  the  performance  of  such  comprehensive  characters  as  Shakespeare's. 
has  taken  place  in  the  Richards  of  these  two  actors.  Mr.  Kean's  Richard  is  the 
more  sombre  and  perhaps  deeper  part  of  him ;  Mr.  Macready's  the  livelier  and 
more  animal  part  —  a  very  considerable  one  nevertheless.  Mr.  Kean's  is  the  more 
gloomy  and  reflective  villain,  rendered  so  by  the  united  effect  of  his  deformity 
and  subtle-mindedness ;  Mr.  Macready's  is  the  more  ardent  and  bold-faced  one, 
borne  up  by  a  temperament  naturally  high  and  sanguine,  though  pulled  down  by 
mortification.  The  one  has  more  of  the  seriousness  of  conscious  evil  in  it,  the 
other  of  the  gayety  of  meditated  success.  Mr.  Kean's  has  gone  deeper  cvou  than 
the  relief  of  his  conscience  —  he  has  found  melancholy  at  the  bottom  of  the  neces- 
sity for  that  relief;  Mr.  Macready's  is  more  sustained  in  his  troubled  waters  by 
constitutional  vigor  and  buoyancy.  In  short,  Mr.  Kean's  Richard  is  more  like 
King  Richard,  darkened  by  the  shadow  of  his  very  approaching  success,  and  announc- 
ing the  depth  of  his  desperation  when  it  shall  be  disputed  ;  Mr.  Macready's  Richard 
is  more  like  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  brother  to  the  gay  tyrant  Edward  IV.,  and 
partaking  as  much  of  his  character  as  the  contradiction  of  the  family  handsome- 
ness in  his  person  would  allow. 


1819-20.  THE  "RIVAL  RICHARDS."  145 

"  If  these  two  features  in  the  character  of  Richard  could  be  united  by  any  actor, 
the  performance  would  be  a  perfect  one  ;  but  when  did  the  world  ever  see  a  perfect 
performance  of  a  character  of  Shakespeare's?  When  did  it  ever  see  the  same 
Macbeth's  good  and  ill  nature  worn  truly  together  —  the  same  King  John  looking 
mean  with  his  airs  of  royalty  —  the  same  Hamlet,  the  model  of  a  court  and  the 
victim  of  melancholy  1  Mr.  Kean's  Othello  is  perhaps  the  most  perfect  perform- 
ance on,  the  modern  stage  ;  but  it  is  not  a  perfect  Othello  nevertheless.  The  union 
of  such  a  variety  of  tones  of  feeling  as  prevails  in  the  great  humanities  of  Shake- 
speare seems  as  impossible  to  be  found  in  an  actor  as  the  finest  musical  instrument 
is  insufficient  to  supply  all  the  effect  of  a  great  writer  for  a  band. 

"  At  the  same  time  when  we  thus  compare  Mr.  Macready  with  Mr.  Kean,  it  is 
to  be  recollected  that  Mr.  Kean  first  gave  the  living  stage  that  example  of  a  natural 
style  of  acting,  on  which  Mr.  Macready  has  founded  his  new  rank  in  the  theatrical 
world.  Nor  must  we  omit  that  the  latter  falls  into  some  defects  which  the  former 
is  never  betrayed  into,  and  those  too  of  a  description  inconsistent  with  the  general 
style  of  his  performance.  We  allude  to  some  over-soft  and  pathetic  tones  towards 
the  conclusion  of  the  part,  where  Richard  is  undergoing  remorse  of  conscience. 
Richard  might  lament,  and  even  be  pathetic  ;  but  he  would  certainly  never  whine, 
or  deal  in  anything  approaching  to  the  lackadaisical.  We  think  both  performers 
occasionally  too  violent;  but  this  may  be  partly  a  stage  necessity.  Mr.  Macready 
(and  he  is  evidently  quite  capable  of  doing  it)  should  reflect  that  all  depth  of  feel- 
ing in  reflecting  minds  requires  a  proportionate  depth  and  quietness  of  expression. 
It  may  be  as  imaginative  as  he  pleases;  but  it  has  no  taste  or  leisure  for  dallying 
with  the  gentilities  of  grief. 

"  Upon  the  whole,  Mr.  Macready's  Richard  is  a  very  great  addition  indeed  to 
his  reputation,  and  no  small  one  to  the  stock  of  theatrical  pleasure.  The  Covent 
Garden  stage  was  thirsty  for  a  little  more  genius  to  refresh  it,  and  he  has  collected 
all  his  clouds,  and  burst  down  upon  it  in  a  sparkling  shower.  We  certainly  never 
saw  the  gayer  part  of  Richard  to  such  advantage.  His  very  step,  in  the  more 
sanguine  scenes,  had  a  princely  gayety  of  self-possession,  and  seemed  to  walk  off  to 
the  music  of  his  approaching  triumph." 

As  one  gratifying  consequence,  the  treasury  was  re-opened  on  the 
following  Saturday,  and  the  performers  paid  me  the  compliment  of  ad- 
mitting they  were  "  indebted  to  me  for  their  salaries."  The  houses 
were  filled  on  the  nights  of  the  play's  repetition ;  and  on  the  third 
Monday  of  its  performance  (November  8th)  at  Covent  Garden,  Kean 
assumed  the  part  at  Drury  Lane,  with  the  announcement  of  "  New 
Scenery,  Dresses,  and  Decorations,"  and  Elliston  as  Richmond.  For 
several  evenings  Richard  III.  occupied  both  the  play-bills,  furnishing 
subject-matter  for  comparative  criticisms  in  the  papers,  and  not  only 
for  town-talk,  but  for  street-ballads  and  caricatures  in  glaring  colors  in 
the  print-shop  windows,  representing  the  "  Rival  Richards." 

The  mark  at  which  I  had  aimed  so  long  was  now  attained.  I  was 
the  undisputed  head  of  the  theater,  and  upon  myself  must  depend  how 
much  further  my  career  might  lead  to  celebrity  and  fortune.  My  pro- 
fession had  not  been  adopted  from  choice  ;  but  it  would  have  been  un- 
grateful to  complain  of  the  destiny  which  placed  so  much  within  my 
reach.  On  the  "  utmost  round  "  of  "  young  ambition's  ladder,"  far 
from  "spurning  the  degrees  by  which  I  did  ascend,"  I  was  the  more 
sensible  of  perseverance,  and  resolved,  now  under  happier  auspices,  to 
continue  with  unabating  energy  my  efforts  towards  greater  finish  in  my 
art,  and  with  jealous  diligence  secure  the  place  I  had  won. 

Rowe's  play  of  "  Tamerlane,"  without  time  to  perfect  the  different 
performers  in  its  words,  was  acted  one  night.  It  is  a  heavy  declama- 
10 


140  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIII. 

tory  production  of  the  cast-iron  school,  indebted,  when  first  brought 
out,  for  its  short-lived  popularity  to  the  political  temper  of  the  day, 
which  assigned  to  William  III.  the  character  of  the  magnanimous  Tar- 
tar, and  the  sanguinary  Bajazet  to  Louis  XIV.  In  theatrical  records 
it  is  indeed  memorable  for  one  of  those  marvelous  displays  of  tragic 
power  that  seem  in  their  narration  to  task  credibility ;  but  my.  father 
was  in  the  pit  of  Drury  Lane  with  Hoi  man  on  the  occasion  to  which  I 
allude,  and  his  account  has  been  confirmed  to  me  by  Lady  Charlotte 
Lindsay,  Charles  Kemble,  who  performed  in  the  play,  and  others. 
John  Kemble  acted  Bajazet,  and  Mrs.  Siddons  was  the  Aspasia.  In 
the  last  act,  when,  by  order  of  the  tyrant,  her  lover  Monesis  is  stran- 
gled before  her  face,  she  worked  herself  up  to  such  a  pitch  of  agony, 
and  gave  such  terrible  reality  to  the  few  convulsive  words  she  tried  to 
utter,  as  she  sank  a  lifeless  heap  before  her  murderer,  that  the  audience 
for  a  few  moments  remained  in  a  hush  of  astonishment,  as  if  awe- 
struck ;  they  then  clamored  for  the  curtain  to  be  dropped,  and  insisting 
on  the  manager's  appearance,  received  from  him,  in  answer  to  their 
vehement  inquiries,  the  assurance  that  Mrs.  Siddons  was  alive,  and  re- 
covering from  the  temporary  indisposition  that  her  exertions  had  caused. 
They  were  satisfied  as  regarded  her,  but  would  not  suffer  the  per- 
formance to  be  resumed.  As  an  instance  of  the  impression  this  great 
actress  made  on  individuals  who  might  be  supposed  insensible,  from  fa- 
miliarity, to  the  power  of  acting,  Holman  turned  to  my  father,  when 
Mrs.  Siddons  had  fallen,  and  looking  aghast  in  his  face,  said :  "  Ma- 
cready,  do  I  look  as  pale  as  you  ?  "  a  strange  question,  but  one  not  un- 
intelligible, under  the  extraordinary  excitement  of  the  moment. 

The  success  of  Richard  would  in  ordinary  course  necessitate  the 
trial  of  other  leading  characters.  Coriolanus  was  the  next  selected  by 
the  managers.  In  this  I  stood  at  disadvantage,  with  the  recollection 
of  Kemble  still  fresh  in  the  memory  of  the  play-going  public ;  but  with 
a  full  consciousness  of  the  difficulty  of  my  task,  I  went  to  work.  To 
add  dignity  and  grace  to  my  deportment  I  studied  under  D'Egville  the 
various  attitudes  from  the  antique,  and  practiced  the  more  stately  walk 
which  was  enforced  by  the  peculiarity  of  their  dress  on  the  ffens  togata. 
I  allowed  myself  no  leisure,  intent  on  mastering  the  patrician's  out- 
ward bearing,  and  under  that  giving  full  vent  to  the  unbridled  passion 
of  the  man.  My  reception  (Nov.  29th,  1819)  was  that  of  an  acknowl- 
edged favorite,  and  the  applause  throughout  the  play  and  at  its  close 
exceeded  my  most  ambitious  hopes.1 

1  From  the  Morning  Herald.  —  "  Mr.  Macready  by  his  performance  of  Coriolanus 
last  night  has  again  won  the  first  honors  of  the  stage.  The  previous  development 
of  this  great  performer's  genius  in  Richard  stripped  his  last  night's  enterprise  of  all 
its  peril  and  much  of  its  aspiring.  .  .  .  We  have  merely  room  to  state  that  in 
the  scenes  where  he  consents,  at  the  entreaty  of  his  mother,  to  go  back  and  conciliate 
the  incensed  people,  and  where  he  gives  vent  to  his  scorn  and  defiance  of  the 
tribunes,  he  gave  proofs  of  variety,  flexibility,  and  power  rarely  equaled  and 
absolutely  unexcelled.  .  .  .  The  quarrel  with  Aufidius,  particularly  that  pas- 
sage in  which  Kemble  was  so  fine  —  the  retort  of '  Boy  '  —  produced  acclamation. 
.  .  .  There  is  one  grand  point  in  which  no  other  living  actor  but  Mr.  Macready 


'1819-20.  A  FICKLE  LADY.  147 

Among  the  flattering  testimonies  offered  me  on  this  second  venture, 
none  were  held  by  me  in  equal  esteem  with  the  graceful  sonnet  pub- 
lished in  the  "  Literary  Gazette  "  by  Barry  Cornwall. 

"  MR.  MACREADY  IN  •  CORIOLANUS.' 

'  This  is  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all ; ' 

And  he  shall  wear  his  victor's  crown,  and  stand 

Distinct  amidst  the  genius  of  the  land, 

And  lift  his  head  aloft  while  others  fall. 

He  hath  not  bowed  him  to  the  vulgar  call, 

Nor  bid  his  countenance  shine  obsequious,  bland, 

But  let  his  dark  eye  keep  its  high  command, 

And  gather'd  '  from  the  few '  his  coronal. 

Yet  unassuming  hath  he  won  his  way  ; 

And  therefore  fit  to  breathe  the  lines  of  him 

Who  gayly,  once,  beside  the  Avon  river, 

Shaped  the  great  verse  that  lives,  and  shall  live  forever. 

But  he  now  revels  in  eternal  day, 

Peerless  amongst  the  earth-born  cherubim." 

Fortune  was  now  smiling  on  me.  An  offer  of  £50  per  night,  made 
to  me  by  the  Brighton  manager,  was  too  tempting  to  be  resisted,  and 
for  three  weeks  I  was  able,  by  traveling  all  night,  to  act  there  once  in 
each  week  for  the  proposed  sum.  Nor  was  it  less  a  satisfaction  to  me 
to  post  down  to  Bristol,  and  by  the  performance  of  Richard  and 
Coriolanus  to  crowded  houses  to  render  serviceable  aid  to  my  father's 
managerial  undertaking.  Being  obliged  to  hire  a  carriage  in  order  to 
post  home  for  the  next  night's  play  at  Covent  Garden,  I  took  with  me 
a  youth,  a  cadet  at  Woolwich,  the  brother  of  a  young  lady  between 
whom  and  myself  all  but  mutual  declarations  of  attachment  had  taken 
place.  She  was  in  person  very  lovely  ;  but  my  judgment  was  at  war 
with  the  partiality  into  which  the  fancied  preference  of  myself  had 
flattered  me.  It  was  of  course  a  pleasure  to  me,  as  an  attention  to 
her,  residing  at  Bath,  to  give  her  bi'Other  the  opportunity  of  spending 
two  days  of  his  Christmas  holidays  with  his  family ;  and  leaving  Bris- 
tol after  acting  Coriolanus,  I  received  in  returning  home  my  young 
fellow-traveler  about  midnight  at  Bath,  as  we  changed  horses  there. 
His  news  took  me  by  surprise,  and  caused  me  some  agitation,  which 
in  the  friendly  darkness  escaped  observation.  It  was  that  his  beautiful 
sister  (yttrium  et  muiabile  !)  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  a  gentleman 
whom  she  had  met  at  Dawlish.  Flushed  as  I  was  with  professional 
successes,  my  wounded  self-love  soon  found  refuge  in  activity  of 
thought,  her  fickleness  saving  me  trouble  in  reconciling  myself  to  the 
change.  In  the  course  of  two  months  she  broke  off  with  her  new 

can  approach  Kemble,  —  we  mean  the  magic  power  of  imposing  an  illusive  image 
of  physical  grandeur  upon  the  very  sense  of  the  beholder,  merely  by  some  slight 
change  of  attitude  or  action.  From  the  death  of  Coriolanus  to  the  fall  of  the  cur- 
tain the  house  resounded  with  applause,  and  in  the  pit  the  waving  of  hats  was 
universal.  Mr.  Egerton  came  on  to  announce  the  next  performance,  but  was 
obliged  to  give  way  for  a  general  cry  of  Macready.  He  did  accordingly  make  his 
appearance,  was  received  with  the  liveliest  expressions  of  kindness  by  the  audience, 
and  announced  the  repetition  of '  Coriolanus  '  on  "Wednesday." 


148  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIII. 

lover,  and  was  earnest  in  her  entreaties  to  a  mutual  friend  to  invite 
me  down  to  meet  her  at  his  place  in  Oxfordshire,  where  she  was  to 
make  a  visit.  But  in  complying  with  her  wish,  he  knew,  and  told 
her,  his  conviction  of  my  resolution  : 

"  I  do  confess,  thou  'rt  smooth  and  fair, 

And  I  might  have  gone  far,  far  to  lore  thee, 
Had  I  not  found  the  slightest  prayer 

That  lip  could  move  had  power  to  move  thee  ; 
But  I  can  let  thee  now  alone, 
As  worthy  to  be  loved  by  none." 

My  good  friend  did  not,  however,  think  so,  for  in  the  course  of  a  few 
months  he  married  her  himself,  and  verified  the  tag  of  children's  stories 
by  being  "  very  happy  ever  after." 

The  heaviest  mischance  that  could  depress  the  fortunes  of  Covent 
Garden  Theater  now  fell  with  almost  crushing  effect.  All  —  but  none 
with  the  same  motives  of  regret  that  weighed  on  me  —  were  in  a  state 
of  temporary  despair  in  hearing  that  Miss  O'Neill  had  quitted  the 
stage !  Her  husband,  Mr.  Becher,1  met  the  claims  of  Mr.  Harris  in 
the  most  liberal  and  gentlemanly  spirit,  but  no  amount  of  money  that 
could  be  reasonably  asked  would  compensate  for  the  loss  of  her  great 
talent.  Still,  "  il  faut  cultiver  notre  jardin  ;  "  the  best  face  was  put  on 
this  disaster,  for  such  it  was,  and  the  work  of  the  season  went  on. 
The  grass  was  not  allowed  to  grow  under  our  feet.  Jaques,  in  Shake- 
speare's "  As  You  Like  It,"  was  a  study  for  me,  one  of  those  real 
varieties  of  mind  with  which  it  is  a  pleasure  in  representation  to 
identify  one's  self.  Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester,  in  a  bald  transla- 
tion of  Schiller's  "Marie  Stuart"  —  a  compound  of  Bois  de  Guilbert 
and  Front  de  Bo3uf  in  a  drama  by  Beazley  from  Sir  W.  Scott's 
"  Ivanhoe"  —  and  a  very  effective  sketch  of  Henri  Quatre  in  a  clever 
operatic  drama  by  Morton  under  that  title,  carried  me  onward  through 
a  great  part  of  the  season. 

It  was  in  the  Easter  Week  that  old  Mr.  Harris,  the  patentee  and 
chief  proprietor  of  Covent  Garden  Theater,  came  up  to  town  from  his 
seat,  Belmout,  near  Uxbridge.  I  received  a  very  courteous  message 
from  him  expressive  of  his  wish  to  see  me ;  and  going  to  his  hotel,  I 
was  introduced  to  him,  a  very  old  gentleman,  with  all  the  ceremonious 
and  graceful  manners  ascribed  to  the  Chesterfield  of  his  early  day. 
His  wish  to  see  me  was  to  thank  me  personally  for  the  service  I  had 
rendered  the  theatre  in  its  distress.  It  was  a  gratifying  and  uncalled 
for  manifestation  of  feeling  on  his  part,  and  justly  appreciated  on  my 
own. 

The  performance  of  Tate's  miserable  debilitation  and  disfigurement  of 
Shakespeare's  sublime  tragedy  of  "  King  Lear  "  (adopted  by  Garrick, 
Kemble,  etc.)  had  been  for  several  years  interdicted  at  the  theaters,  as 
suggesting  in  its  principal  character  a  resemblance  to  the  actual  condi- 
tion of  the  reigning  sovereign,  George  III.  His  death  this  year 

1  Mr.  Becher  became  Sir  William  Becher  on  his  creation  as  a  baronet  in  1831. 
—  ED. 


1819-20.  KEAN'S  LEAR.  149 

(January  29th  1820)  caused  the  restriction  to  be  removed,  and  the 
play  was  to  be  revived  for  Kean,  with  a  very  expensive  outlay,  at 
Drury  Lane.  Henry  Harris,  wishing  to  forestall  its  production  there, 
directed  me  to  prepare  myself  in  the  principal  character.  This  ruse 
of  antagonism  was  certainly  not  in  a  generous  spirt  of  competition. 
The  object  was  to  hurry  out  the  play,  no  matter  how  prepared,  in 
order  to  anticipate  the  rival  theater.  But  however  indulgently  the 
audience  might  be  disposed  to  receive  me,  it  would  not  have  been  con- 
sistent with  the  principles  I  held  in  respect  to  my  art  to  venture  be- 
fore them  the  grandest  and  most  affecting  of  the  Great  Master's 
creations  without  time  to  search  out  the  clearest  conception  of  his  in- 
tentions, and  perfect  myself  in  the  most  elaborately  studied  execution 
of  them.  In  refusing  to  commit  myself  to  so  rash  an  experiment,  it 
was  only  due  to  Mr.  Harris's  interests  to  state  my  willingness  to  act 
any  other  character  in  the  play,  and  on  his  naming  Edmund,  I  without 
pause  undertook  the  part  (April  13th),  and  lost  no  credit  by  it.  With 
the  sole  purpose  of  taking  the  edge  of  novelty  off  the  revival  of  the 
play,  he  engaged  Booth  for  a  few  nights  to  act  Lear.  It  could  not  be 
a  success.  It  was  acted  three  nights.  On  the  24th  of  the  same 
month,  April,  it  was  brought  out  at  Drury  Lane  with  "  dresses,  scenery, 
and  machinery,"  all  new.  A  great  display  was  attempted  by  what 
the  play-bills  called  a  "  Land-storm,"  intended  to  represent  the  over- 
flowing of  a  river,  bearing  down  rocks  and  trees  in  its  course  ;  but  as 
a  scenic  effect  it  was  a  noisy  failure,  and  as  an  illustration  of  Shake- 
speare's text,  which  tells  us,  "  for  many  miles  about  there  's  scarce  a 
bush,"  a  ludicrous  blunder. 

Kean's  personation  of  King  Lear  (it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  it 
was  Tate's  version,  or  parody,  as  without  a  very  great  strain  on  the 
word  it  may  not  unaptly  be  termed)1  could  not  be  entirely  void  of 
those  flashes  of  genius  that  were  rarely  wanting  even  in  his  least  suc- 
cessful assumptions  ;  but  in  my  judgment  it  was  not  to  be  ranked  with 
his  masterly  portraitures  of  Othello,  Overreach,  Mortimer,  or  Richard, 
and  such  appeared  to  be  the  opinion  of  the  public.  Most  actors  — 
Garrick,  Kemble,  and  Kean  among  others  —  seem  to  have  based  their 
conception  of  the  character  on  the  infirmity  usually  associated  with 
"  fourscore  and  upwards,"  and  have  represented  the  feebleness  instead 
of  the  vigor  of  old  age.  But  Lear's  was  in  truth  a  "  lusty  winter  : " 
his  language  never  betrays  imbecility  of  mind  or  body.  He  confers 
his  kingdom  indeed  on  "  younger  strengths ; "  but  there  is  still  suf- 
ficient invigorating  him  to  allow  him  to  ride,  to  hunt,  to  run  wildly 
through  the  fury  of  the  storm,  to  slay  the  ruffian  who  murdered  his 
Cordelia,  and  to  bear  about  her  dead  body  in  his  arms.  There  is, 

1  It  would  scarcely  be  believed  tbat  such  a  passage  as  tbe  following  would  be 
given  in  what  professes  to  be  an  improvement  on  Shakespeare.  It  is  Glostcr 
addressing  Edmund  in  reference  to  his  son  Edgar  : 

"  Find  him, 

Edmund,  that  I  may  wind  me  to  his  heart, 
And  twist  his  bleeding  bowels  round  my  arm !  " 


150  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIII. 

moreover,  a  heartiness,  and  even  jollity  in  his  blither  moments,  no 
way  akin  to  the  helplessness  of  senility.  Indeed  the  towering  range 
of  thought  with  which  his  mind  dilates,  identifying  the  heavens  them- 
selves with  his  griefs,  and  the  power  of  conceiving  such  vast  imagin- 
ings, would  seem  incompatible  with  a  tottering,  trembling  frame,  and 
betoken  rather  one  of  "  mighty  bone  and  bold  emprise,"  in  the  out- 
ward bearing  of  the  grand  old  man.  In  Kean's  performance  there 
were  many  striking  effects,  but  as  a  whole  the  impression  it  left  was 
weak  in  comparison  with  his  triumphant  success  in  other  characters. 

In  the  course  of  the  month  of  April  an  application  was  made  to  me 
by  my  old  Glasgow  friend,  John  Tait,  on  the  subject  of  a  tragedy  that 
had  been  produced  at  Glasgow  with  much  applause.  The  author  he 
described  as  a  man  of  original  genius,  and  one  in  whose  fortunes  he 
and  many  of  his  fellow-citizens  took  a  deep  interest.  It  so  happened 
that  I  had  undergone  the  reading  of  two  or  three  tragedies  when  late 
at  Glasgow,  and  it  was  with  consequent  distrust  that,  to  oblige  a  very 
good  friend,  I  undertook  to  read  this.  Tait  was  to  send  the  MS. 
without  delay,  and  I  looked  forward  to  my  task  with  no  very  good 
will.  It  was  about  three  o'clock  one  day  that  I  was  preparing  to  go 
out,  when  a  parcel  arrived  containing  a  letter  from  Tait  and  the  MS. 
of  "  Virginius."  After  some  hesitation  I  thought  it  best  to  get  the 
business  over,  to  do  at  once  what  I  had  engaged  to  do,  and  I  sat  down 
determinedly  to  my  work.  The  freshness  and  simplicity  of  the  dia- 
logue fixed  my  attention ;  I  read  on  and  on,  and  was  soon  absorbed  in 
the  interest  of  the  story  and  the  passion  of  its  scenes,  till  at  its  close  I 
found  myself  in  such  a  state  of  excitement  that  for  a  time  I  was  un- 
decided what  step  to  take.  Impulse  was  in  the  ascendant,  and  snatch- 
ing up  my  pen  I  hurriedly  wrote,  as  my  agitated  feelings  prompted,  a 
letter  to  the  author,  to  me  then  a  perfect  stranger.  I  was  closing  my 
letter  as  the  postman's  bell  was  sounding  up  the  street,  when  the 
thought  occurred  to  me,  "  What  have  I  written  ?  It  may  seem  wild 
and  extravagant ;  I  had  better  reconsider  it"  I  tore  the  letter,  and, 
sallying  out,  hastened  directly  to  my  friend  Procter's  lodgings,  wishing 
to  consult  him,  and  test  by  his  the  correctness  of  my  own  judgment. 
He  was  from  home,  and  I  left  a  card,  requesting  him  to  breakfast  with 
me  next  day,  having  something  very  remarkable  to  show  him.  After 
dinner  at  a  coffee-house  I  returned  home,  and  in  more  collected  mood 
again  read  over  the  impassioned  scenes,  in  which  Knowles  has  given 
heart  and  life  to  the  characters  of  the  old  Roman  story.  My  first 
impressions  were  confirmed  by  a  careful  re-perusal,  and  in  sober  cer- 
tainty of  its  justness  I  wrote  my  opinion  of  the  work  to  Knowles, 
pointing  out  some  little  oversights,  and  assuring  him  of  my  best  exer- 
tions to  procure  its  acceptance  from  the  managers,  and  to  obtain  the 
highest  payment  for  it.  I  have  not  preserved  a  copy  of  my  letter,  but 
its  general  purport  may  be  guessed  from  the  reply  to  it,  which  is  here 
verbatim : 

GLASGOW,  20th  April,  1820. 

MY  DEAR  SIR.  —  For  bare  sir  is  out  of  the  question  —  I  thank  you  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart  for  the  most  kind  —  I  must  not  say  flattering  —  tho'  most 


1819-20.  PRODUCTION  OF  "  VIRGINIUS."  151 

flattering  —  letter  that  you  have  written  to  me.  Really  I  cannot  reply  to  it  in  any 
manner  that  will  satisfy  myself,  so  I  shall  only  once  for  all  repeat  —  I  thank  you  ; 
and  feel  as  if  I  should  never  forget  the  opening  of  a  correspondence  with  Mr. 
Macready.  You  must  have  a  very  warm  heart.  Do  not  think,  I  entreat  you,  that 
because  I  express  myself  imperfectly  —  very  imperfectly  —  there  is  any  deficiency 
where  there  ought  not  to  he. 

I  have  hut  a  few  minutes  —  I  should  say  moments  —  to  write.  All  your  sug- 
gestions I  have  attended  to  :  I  believe  so,  and  if  I  have  not,  I  fully  proposed  to 
attend  to  them,  except  so  far  as  the  word  "  squeak  "  is  concerned  :  that  word  I 
know  not  how  to  lose,  for  want  of  a  fit  substitute  —  the  smallest  possible  sound. 
Find  out  a  term,  and  make  the  alteration  yourself;  or  if  you  cannot,  and  still  wish 
an  alteration,  do  what  you  like,  I  don't  care  about  it.  I  merely  submit  the  matter 
to  you.  Oh,  I  have  forgotten  the  word  "  cheer ;  "  what  shall  I  do  also  in  the  way 
of  finding  a  substitute  for  that  word  ? 

I  cannot  stop  to  write  another  line. 

I  am  very  much  your  debtor,  and  truly 

Your  grateful  humble  Servant, 

J.  S.  KNOWLES. 

Make  any  alterations  you  like  in  any  part  of  the  play,  and  I  shall  be  obliged  to 
you. 

A  letter  more  truly  characteristic  of  a  man  was  never  written.  Proc- 
ter was  with  me  betimes  the  morning  after  my  call.  How  pleasant  is 
the  recollection  of  that  morning's  conference  !  How  delightful  to  re- 
call particular  instances  in  a  life  of  benevolence,  the  history  of  which 
would  be  one  long  catalogue  of  kindly  deeds  !  We  read  the  play  to- 
gether, and  no  word  of  exception  was  heard  to  jar  against  the  praise 
he  spontaneously  and  liberally  bestowed  on  the  work  —  but  he  had 
ever  a  ready  and  unenvying  admiration  of  contemporary  genius.  He 
undertook  to  write  the  epilogue,  and  to  enlist  Hamilton  lieynolds  in 
its  cause,  as  the  contributor  of  the  prologue. 

In  accepting  the  tragedy  Mr.  Harris  consented  to  my  stipulation 
that  its  payment  (£400  for  twenty  nights)  should  be  continued  into 
the  next  season,  which,  making  the  difference  of  £100,  I  had  great 
satisfaction  in  communicating  to  Knowles.  The  characters  were  al- 
lotted, and  the  calls  issued.  Fawcett,  having  much  on  his  hands, 
asked  me  to  read  the  play  to  the  company,  and  to  take  on  myself  the 
"  getting  it  up,"  i.  e.  the  arrangement  of  the  action  and  grouping  of 
the  scenes.  Not  one  sixpence  was  allowed  for  its  mise  en  scene,  and 
to  be  correct  in  my  costume  I  was  obliged  to  purchase  my  own  dresses. 
But  my  heart  was  in  the  work,  so  much  so  that  it  would  seem  my  zeal 
ran  the  risk  of  outstripping  discretion,  for  it  was  made  a  complaint  by 
Egerton,  the  Numitorius,  that  "  the  youngest  man  in  the  theater 
should  take  on  him  to  order  and  direct  his  elders."  On  Fawcett's  re- 
port of  this  to  me,  I  directly  made  the  amende  to  Egerton,  apologizing 
for  any  want  of  deference  I  might  have  shown  to  my  brother  actors. 

The  play  was,  in  French  phrase,  well  mounted,  with  Charles  Kem- 
ble,  Icilius ;  Terry,  Dentatus  ;  Abbott,  Appius  Claudius ;  and  the 
lovely  Miss  Foote  (afterwards  Countess  of  Harrington),  Virginia : 
who,  thankfully  accepting  my  tuition,  produced  the  most  pleasing  ef- 
fect by  aiming  at  none.  My  every  thought  was  engrossed  by  Virgin- 
ius.  I  had  perfected  myself  roughly  in  the  words  of  the  part  before 


152  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIIL 

presenting  the  play,  and  with  the  first  of  morning  and  the  last  of  night 
the  images  it  offered  were  present  to  me,  whilst  every  vacant  hour  was 
employed  in  practice,  to  give  smoothness  to  those  pathetic  touches  and 
those  whirlwinds  of  passion  in  the  part,  which  in  the  full  sway  of 
their  fury  required  the  actor's  self-command  to  insure  the  correctness 
of  every  tone,  gesture,  and  look.  The  rehearsals,  as  may  be  supposed, 
had  been  most  carefully  superintended,  and  all  appeared  in  the  best 
train,  when  on  the  night  before  the  play's  performance  an  order  from 
Carlton  House,  desiring  the  MS.  (which  had  passed  the  Lord  Cham- 
berlain's office)  to  be  sent  there  immediately,  filled  us  all  with  alarm. 
Of  course  it  was  immediately  sent,  and,  as  reported,  subjected  to  the 
royal  scrutiny.  The  next  morning  we  were  assembled  on  the  stage 
waiting  for  it,  when  it  was  returned,  with  only  pencil  marks  drawn 
over  some  lines  in  the  part  of  Appius  Claudius,  expatiating  on  tyr- 
anny. On  May  17th  (1820)  "  Virginius  "  was  first  acted,  and  its  early 
scenes  were  not  unattended  with  danger,  Charles  Kemble  being  so 
hoarse  that  not  one  word,  spoken  in  the  lowest  whisper,  could  be 
heard ;  but  the  action  of  the  scene  told  its  story  with  sufficient  dis- 
tinctness to  keep  alive  its  interest.  This  grew  as  the  play  advanced, 
and  in  the  third  act,  in  Icilius's  great  scene,  Kemble's  voice  came 
out  in  all  its  natural  strength,  and  brought  down  thunders  of  applause. 
With  the  progress  of  the  play  the  rapt  attention  of  the  audience  grad- 
ually kindled  into  enthusiasm.  Long-continued  cheers  followed  the 
close  of  each  succeeding  act ;  half-stifled  screams  and  involuntary 
ejaculations  burst  forth  when  the  fatal  blow  was  struck  to  the  daugh- 
ter's heart ;  and  the  curtain  fell  amidst  the  most  deafening  applause 
of  a  highly-excited  auditory.  The  play  was  an  unquestionable  tri- 
umph, which  Knowles  had  sat  in  the  pit  to  witness  and  enjoy.1 

1  From  the  Times.  —  "  Macrcady  deserves  peculiar  praise  for  his  Virginius.  His 
acting  is  always  excellent ;  but  he  has  in  this  character  touched  the  passions  with 
a  more  masterly  hand,  and  evinced  deeper  pathos  than  we  recollect  on  any  former 
occasion.  The  tone  with  which  in  the  judgment  scene  he  uttered  the  words  — 
'  My  poor  child  here,  who  clings  to  me  for  protection '  —  was  truly  pathetic.  Some 
embarrassment  arose  from  the  entangling  of  the  knife  in  the  folds  of  his  robe, 
which  injured  the  general  effect ;  but  the  blow  when  given  was  terrific.  As  a 
catastrophe  nothing  could  be  finer,  and  the  play  should  end,  if  possible,  as  that 
of  Alfieri  does,  with  the  line  from  Livy,  addressed  to  Appius,  '  With  this  blood  I 
devote  thy  head  to  the  infernal  Gods.'  " 

From  the  Morning  Herald.  —  "  Virginius  is  drawn  a  dramatic  person  of  high 
order.  His  historical  character  and  the  Roman  manners  of  the  time  are  preserved 
with  great  force  and  fidelity  of  touch.  One  may  apply  to  him  the  expression  of  a 
living  orator,  'original  and  unaccommodating,  the  features  of  his  character  bear 
the  hardihood  of  antiquity.'  The  delineation  of  thia  arduous  character  by  Mr. 
Macready  will  take  its  place  among  the  first  performances  on  the  stage.  It  is  one 
of  the  finest  specimens  of  the  art  which  his  great  and  still  growing  genius  has  yi-t 
produced.  Austere,  tender,  familiar,  elevated,  mingling  at  once  terror  and  pathos, 
he  ran  over  the  scale  of  dramatic  expression  with  the  highest  degree  of  what  may 
be  called  power.  We  have  not  space  left  to  notice  the  passages  in  which  both  the 
actor  and  the  dramatist  were  most  applauded  ;  but  we  must  not  pass  unnoticed 
the  scene  of  sensibility  so  strong,  so  natural,  in  which  he  yields  his  child  with 
tears  even  to  the  lover  of  his  choice,  his  first  meeting  with  Virginia  on  his  return, 
and  his  appearance  before  the  tribunal." 


1819-20.  SHERIDAN  KNOWLES.  153 

In  my  eager  desire  to  obtain  for  Knowles  all  possible  benefit  deriv- 
able from  his  beautiful  work,  I  called  on  Murray,  the  most  liberal  of 
publishers,  with  the  expectation  that  he  would  give,  according  to  his 
wont,  a  liberal  price  for  it.  He  received  it  in  the  most  friendly  spirit, 
and  my  disappointment  was  in  proportion  to  my  raised  expectations 
when,  a  day  or  two  after,  I  found  the  MS.  upon  my  table  with  his 
note  declining  to  publish  it.  His  reader  and  adviser  on  this  occasion, 
as  I  was  informed,  was  the  Rev.  H.  Milman,  afterwards  Dean  of  St. 
Paul's,  one  whose  name  is  justly  to  be  classed  with  those  of  the  great 
and  good,  but  who,  I  think,  in  this  instance,  u  impar  sibi,"  did  not  ex- 
ert that  liberality  and  clearness  of  judgment  which  would  ordinarily 
and  justly  be  ascribed  to  him  ;  for  the  star  of  Alfieri's  genius  looks 
pale  on  this  subject  before  the  lustre  of  that  of  Knowles,  and  so  long 
as  there  is  a  stage,  and  actors  capable  of  representing  the  best  feelings 
of  our  nature,  so  long  will  the  pathos,  the  poetry  and  passion  of  "  Vir- 
ginius  "  command  the  tears  and  applause  of  its  audience. 

Its  publisher  was  Ridgway  of  Piccadilly,  an  old  friend  of  the  author, 
and  it  has  passed  through  many  editions. 

An  acquaintance  formed  under  the  circumstances,  that  introduced 
me  to  Knowles,  would  naturally  soon  ripen  into  intimacy.  It  might 
almost  have  been  said  of  him,  that  he  "  wore  his  heart  upon  his 
sleeve,"  so  unreserved  and  expansive  was  he  in  the  expression  of  his 
feelings.  His  rough  exterior  would  better  convey  the  idea  of  the  cap- 
tain of  a  Berwick  smack  than  that  of  the  poet  who  could  conceive  the 
virgin  purity,  the  tenderness  and  grace  of  his  "  sweet  Virginia."  To 
a  sensibility  almost  womanly,  and  an  exuberant  flow  of  boyish  spirits, 
he  united  the  most  manly  sentiments,  ready  courage,  and  conscientious 
rectitude  of  purpose.  The  creature  of  impulse  and  sensitiveness,  his 
strong  good  sense,  when  brought  to  bear  on  his  errors  of  precipita- 
tion, would  instantly  correct  them  ;  but  his  generous  and  too-confiding 
nature  would  occasionally  betray  him  into  embarrassments  that  tried 
his  patience  without  adding  to  his  stock  of  experience.  With  all  his 
genius  his  want  of  method  in  his  affairs  made  the  greater  part  of  his 
life  a  struggle  with  pecuniary  difficulties;  but  even  under  the  pinch- 
ings  of  poverty  he  would  seek  indemnity  from  the  hard  dealings  of 
fortune  in  the  little  swarm  of  children  that  clustered  round  him,  and 
would  suggest  comfort  to  their  mother  in  the  very  cause  of  her  anxiety, 
exclaiming,  "  Look  at  them,  Maria,  are  we  not  rich  in  these  ?  "  His 
heart  was  in  his  home,  and  with  the  greetings  of  friends  and  the 
plaudits  of  the  theater  ringing  in  his  ears,  he  was  longing  impatiently 
to  return  there.  In  a  letter  from  his  wife  on  the  news  of  his  play's 
success  reaching  Glasgow,  recounting  the  many  visits  of  congratula- 
tion she  had  received,  she  observed  —  "  Ah,  James,  we  shall  not  want 
friends  now  ! "  Few  men  have  had  more  or  truer  friends,  but  a  sort 
of  perverse  destiny  rendered  their  efforts  for  many  years  unavailing, 
in  assisting  him  in  the  establishment  of  an  undisturbed  regularity  of 
income. 

A  little  incident  may  serve  to  show  the  singularity  of  his  character 


154  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CIIAP.  XIII. 

• 

in  his  inattention  to  ceremonious  observances.  On  the  Sunday  even- 
ing after  the  production  of  "  Virginius,"  I  was  dining  with  Sir  Robert 
Kemeys  in  Park  Lane,  where,  I  fancy,  I  was  the  only  untitled  guest 
at  table.  In  the  course  of  the  dinner  one  of  the  servants  half  whispered 
to  me,  "  Sir,  a  person  wants  to  see  you."  Utterty  ignorant  of  any  busi- 
ness that  any  one  could  have  with  me,  I  was  a  good  deal  embarrassed, 
but  Sir  Robert  very  good-naturedly  relieved  me  by  saying,  "  You 
had  better  see  the  person,  Mr.  Macready ; "  and  accordingly  I  went 
into  the  hall,  where  to  my  astonishment,  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  I 
distinguished  Knowles.  "  How  are  you  ?  "  was  his  greeting.  "  Good 
heavens,  Knowles  !  what  is  the  matter  ?  You  should  not  have  come 
here  to  me  ! "  was  my  hasty  remark.  "  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  re- 
plied :  I  am  going  out  of  town  in  the  morning,  and  I  wished  to  give  you 
this  myself.  Good-by  ! "  thrusting  a  parcel  into  my  hand  and  hurrying 
away.  Putting  it  in  my  pocket  without  looking  at  it,  I  returned 
in  some  confusion  to  the  dinner-table.  When  I  reached  home,  I  found 
the  packet  to  contain  the  printed  copy  of  "  Virginius,"  dedicated  to 
myself,  and  a  note  sent  afterwards  to  my  lodgings,  expressive  of  his 
regret  for  his  intrusion  on  me,  and,  evidently  under  wounded  feeb'ngs, 
informing  me  that  it  was  the  first  copy  struck  off,  and  bidding  me 
farewell.  I  wrote  immediately  to  him,  explaining  the  awkwardness  of 
my  position  and  my  ignorance  of  his  object  in  coming  to  me,  and 
wishing  to  see  him.  The  note  reached  him  in  the  morning :  he  came 
at  once,  and  all  was  made  perfectly  smooth  between  us.1  At  a  supper 
he  gave  to  a  few  intimate  friends  at  a  coffee-house  in  Covent  Garden 
(the  bill  of  fare  of  which  was  salmon  and  a  boiled  leg  of  mutton)  I 
first  met  Hazlitt,  to  whose  early  advice  and  tutorship  he  considered 
himself  greatly  indebted.  Hazlitt  was  a  man  whose  conversation 
could  not  fail  to  arrest  attention.  He  found  in  me  a  ready  listener, 
and  in  the  interest  of  our  discussion  became  irritated  by  the  boisterous 
boyish  sallies  of  Knowles's  irrepressible  spirits,  rebuking  him  for  his 
unseasonable  interruptions,  and,  as  one  having  authority,  desiring  him 
not  to  "  play  the  fool."  The  poet  was  in  truth  a  very  child  of  nature, 
and  Hazlitt,  who  knew  him  well,  treated  him  as  such. 

Among  the  many  gratifications  associated  in  my  mind  with  the  pro- 
duction of  "  Virginius,"  the  acquaintance  first  made  with  my  friend 
Jackson  is  not  the  least  prized.  It  was  in  this  character  I  first  sat  to 
him,  for  my  portrait  in  "  Virginius,"  and,  as  intimacy  developed  to  me 

1  The  following  is  the  dedication  that  appeared  in  all  the  earlier  editions,  but 
has  been  omitted  in  the  later  ones  :  — 

"  To  WILLIAM  MACREADY,  ESQ. 

"  Mr  DEAR  SIR,  —  What  can  I  do  less  than  dedicate  this  Tragedy  to  you  ? 
This  is  a  question  which  you  cannot  answer;  but  I  can  —  I  cannot  do  less  ;  and 
if  I  could  do  more,  I  ought  and  would. 

"  I  was  a  perfect  stranger  to  you  :  you  read  my  play,  and  at  once  committed 
yourself  respecting  its  merits.    This,  perhaps,  is  not  saying  much  for  your  head, 
but  it  says  a  great  deal  for  your  heart ;  and  that  is  the  consideration  which  above 
all  others  makes  me  feel  happy  and  proud  in  subscribing  myself 
"  Your  grateful  Friend  and  Servant, 

"  JAMES  SHERIDAN  KNOWLES." 


1819-20.  APPEARANCE  IN  "MACBETH."  155 

more  and  more  the  simplicity  and  benevolence  of  his  nature,  my  at- 
tachment to  him  kept  pace  in  its  growth  with  my  admiration  of  his 
genius  during  his  life,  and  still  clings  warmly  to  his  memory. 

Through  the  remainder  of  the  season  "  Virginius  "  was  acted  every 
night  appropriated  to  benefits.  Mine  came  off,  June  9th,  with  flying 
colors.  A  crowded  house  put  a  good  sum  in  my  pocket ;  and  my 
first  essay  in  "  Macbeth,"  on  the  study  of  which  I  had  bestowed  my 
best  pains,  was  very  favorably  received.1  To  strengthen  the  cast  of 
the  play  I  had  asked  Terry  to  undertake  Macduff;  at  which  Abbott, 
who  had  once  appeared  in  the  part,  took  umbrage  and  made  it  the 
ground  of  a  quarrel.  It  was  in  vain  that  I  pleaded  to  him  the  univer- 
sal custom  on  such  occasions,  and  in  the  most  soothing  and  friendly 
manner  deprecated  his  taking  offense.  He  very  intemperately  per- 
sisted in  language  that  was  inadmissible,  and  which  left  me  no  alter- 
native but  to  retort  (which  I  did  most  reluctantly)  by  a  personal  in- 
dignity. Emery,  who  was  present,  came  up  to  me  when  Abbott  left 
the  room  and  took  me  by  the  hand,  saying,  "  My  dear  William,  if  it 
had  been  my  own  son,  I  would  not  have  wished  you  to  have  done 
other  than  you  did."  The  issue  was  that  Abbott  applied  to  Mr.  Rich- 
ard Jones  to  be  his  friend  on  the  occasion,  who  at  once  told  him  that 
he  was  greatly  to  blame  and  in  the  wrong  throughout.  The  terms  of 
an  apology  to  me  were  settled  between  Jones  and  my  friend  Lieuten- 
ant Twiss  of  the  Royal  Engineers,  which,  repeated  by  Abbott,  called 
forth  from  me  an  expression  of  regret  that  I  should  have  suffered  my- 
self to  be  provoked  to  such  an  extremity.  It  had  been  a  practice,  as 
was  said,  of  long  standing  for  the  frequenters  of  the  theaters  to  send, 
on  the  performers'  benefit  nights,  presents  of  more  or  less  value  to  the 
artists  whom  they  particularly  approved.  This  custom  seemed  to  me 
to  compromise  the  actor's  independence,  and  in  that  belief  I  had  laid 
it  down  as  a  rule  not  to  accept  more  than  the  value  of  the  tickets  re- 
quired. I  will  not  contend  for  the  prudence  of  this  determination  : 

1  From  tJte  Morning  Herald,  June  10th.  — "  Coi-ent  Garden.  —  The  tragedy  of 
'  Macbeth '  was  acted  at  this  theater  last  night  for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Macready.  It 
was  his  first  performance  of  that  admirable  character,  and  he  has  reason  to  be 
doubly  gratified  with  his  selection  of  its  performance  for  his  benefit.  It  attracted  a 
crowded  and  remarkably  brilliant  audience,  and  in  this  new  essay  he  met  with  signal 
success.  His  air  of  bewildered  agitation  upon  coming  on  the  stage  after  the  interview 
with  the  weird  sisters  was  a  most  judicious  and  effective  innovation  upon  the  style 
of  his  predecessors.  In  the  banquet  scene  too  he  made  an  original  and  admirable 
effect.  Instead  of  intimidating  the  Ghost  into  a  retreat,  he  fell  back,  sank  into  a 
chair,  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  then  looked  again,  perceived  the  Ghost  had 
disappeared  and  upon  being  relieved  from  the  fearful  vision  recovered  once  more 
the  spring  of  his  soul  and"  body.  The  effect  was  powerful.  His  expression  of 
terror  after  the  murder  produced  a  long-continued  stillness.  The  pathos  which  he 
infused  into  Macbeth  was  a  principal  merit  in  his  delineation.  At  the  fall  of  the 
curtain,  upon  Mr.  Connor's  appearing  to  announce  the  performance  of  the  next 
evening,  there  was  a  universal  clamor  for  Mr.  Macready.  After  some  delay  he  did 
appear,  but  was  quite  exhausted  by  the  exertions  of  the  last  act.  He  was  so  over- 
powered by  fatigue  and  perhaps  by  the  enthusiasm  which  the  audience  manifested 
towards  him,  that  Mr.  Fawcett  came  out  and  said  that,  in  consequence  of  the  esti- 
mation which  the  audience  had  expressed  of  Mr.  Macready's  performance,  the  play 
should  be  repeated  on  Thursday." 


156  AfACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CIIAP.  XIV. 

with  me  it  was  a  matter  of  feeling.  I  could  not  consider  myself  sit- 
ting down  to  table  on  terms  of  social  equality  with  a  man  to  whom  I 
had  been  obliged  for  the  gift  of  five,  ten,  or  twenty  pounds.  I  may 
have  been  too  fastidious ;  but  I  have  never  had  cause  to  regret  the 
line  of  conduct  adopted  in  this  particular.  Among  others,  on  the  oc- 
casion of  this  benefit,  Lord  Glengall  sent  me  ten  pounds  and  Colonel 
Berkeley  fifteen,  which  I  returned  wi'h  letters  that  elicited  from  them 
the  admission  that  it  was  "  impossible  to  be  offended  "  with  me. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

1820-1821-1822.  —  Country  engagements  —  Dublin  —  Newcastle  —Aberdeen  — 
Montrose  —  Dundee  —  Perth  —  Future  wife  —  Lancaster — Liverpool  —  George 
Meredith  —  Fifth  Covent  Garden  season  —  lachimo  —  Zanga — Heading  MSS. 
for  dramatic  authors  —  "Wallace"  —  Major  Cartwright  —  Progress  in  public 
opinion  — Vandenhoff —  "  Mirandola" —  Engagement  of  Miss  Atkins  at  Bristol 
—  Partial  restoration  of  Shakespeare's  text  in  Richard  III.  —  John  Kemble  — 
Wainwright  —  "  Damon  and  Pythias  "  —  Character  of  Hamlet  —  Henry  IV.  — 
Portrait  by  Jackson  —  Story  of  the  child  saved  from  "fire  —  Country  engage- 
ments—  Highland  tour  —  Second  Covent  Garden  engagement  —  Difficulties  in 
the  management  —  Cassius  —  Othello. 

THE  close  of  this  season  found  me  in  a  very  different  position  from 
that  in  which  I  had  stood  at  its  opening.  Engagements  from  country 
managers  poured  in  upon  me,  and  filled  up  the  whole  term  of  my  va- 
cation before  I  left  London.  Through  the  interest  of  the  Duke  of 
York,  the  patent  of  the  Dublin  Theater  had  been  given  by  George 
IV.  to  Mr.  Henry  Harris,  who  fitted  up  the  Rotunda,  as  a  temporary 
theater  (capable  of  holding  about  two  hundred)  until  the  new  one  he 
had  to  build  should  be  completed.  My  summer  engagements  began 
there,  where  the  performance  of  "  Virginius  "  made  quite  a  sensation. 
It  was  acted  to  crowded  houses  seven  nights  out  of  the  ten,  to  which 
my  stay  was  limited.  Sheil  reached  Dublin  from  circuit  in  time  to 
be  present  at  one  of  the  representations.  After  the  play  he  came  and 
sat  down  beside  me  in  the  greenroom,  and  was  silent  for  some  time  : 
at  length,  "  Well  Macready,"  he  began,  "  what  am  I  to  say  to  you  ?  I 
really  don't  know ;  there  is  nothing  I  have  seen  like  it  since  Mrs. 
Siddons ! "  Such  an  eulogy  from  such  a  judge  was  worth  to  me  the 
acclamations  of  a  crowded  theater. 

My  route  lay  onward  to  Newcastle-on-Tyne,  and  from  a  severe  hurt 
in  my  knee,  got  by  a  fall  at  Dublin,  I  was  obliged  to  travel  in  post- 
chaises  and  as  rapidly  as  I  could  bribe  the  post-boys  to  go.  My  old 
friends  there  welcomed  me  with  the  old  cordiality,  and,  as  in  Dublin, 
I  continued  to  reap  a  rich  harvest.  From  thence  to  Aberdeen  was 
my  point  of  travel,  and,  on  account  of  my  wounded  knee  and  the  ne- 
cessity of  journeying  all  night,  I  hired  a  carriage  at  Newcastle,  setting 
out  after  the  play  on  Saturday  night.  On  Saturday  midnight  I  reached 


1820.  AN.  OLD  FRIEND.  157 

Woodhaven  on  the  shore  of  the  Firth  of  Tay,  where  I  had  to  wait  two 
hours  for  the  tide  to  cross  to  Dundee.  Dressing  and  breakfasting  at 
Montrose,  I  reached  Aberdeen  about  noon,  where  I  saw  my  name  an- 
.nounced  in  the  play-bills  for  Richard  III.  as  I  passed  from  my  hotel  to 
the  theater.  Two  young  girls  were  walking  up  and  down  the  stage, 
apparently  waiting  for  the  business  of  the  morning  to  begin.  One, 
the  manager's  daughter,  was  a  common-looking  person  ;  the  other, 
plainly  but  neatly  dressed,  was  distinguishable  for  a  peculiar  expres- 
sion of  intelligence  and  sprightly  gentleness.  She  rehearsed  with 
great  propriety  the  part  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  was  introduced 
to  me  by  the  manager  as  my  Virginia  for  the  next  night's  play.  On 
the  following  morning  she  came  an  hour  before  the  regular  summons 
to  go  through  the  scenes  of  Virginia  and  receive  my  instructions. 
She  was  dressed  in  a  closely-fitting  tartan  frock,  which  showed  off  to 
advantage  the  perfect  symmetry  of  her  sylph-like  figure.  Just  devel- 
oping into  womanhood,  her  age  would  have  been  guessed  more,  but 
she  had  not  quite  reached  fifteen.  She  might  have  been  Virginia. 
The  beauty  of  her  face  was  more  in  its  expression  than  in  feature, 
though  no  want  of  loveliness  was  there.  Her  rehearsals  greatly 
pleased  me,  her  acting  being  so  much,  in  earnest..  There  was  a  na- 
tive grace  in  her  deportment  and  every  movement,  and  never  were 
innocence  and  sensibility  more  sweetly  personified  than  in  her  mild 
look  and  speaking  eyes  streaming  with  unbidden  tears.  I  soon 
learned  her  little  history  ;  she  was  the  support  of  her  family,  and  was 
the  same  little  girl  whom  I  had  rebuked  some  years  before  for  sup- 
posed inattention  at  the  Glasgow  Theater.  My  engagement  with 
Mr.  Ryder  was  for  three  weeks,  divided  between  the  towns  of  Aber- 
deen, Montrose,  Dundee,  and  Perth ;  and  as  the  same  plays  were  re- 
peated by  the  same  performers,  my  opportunities  of  conversation  with 
this  interesting  creature  were  very  frequent,  which,  as  they  occurred, 
I  grew  less  and  less  desirous  of  avoiding.  Her  strong  good  sense  and 
unaffected  warmth  of  feeling  received  additional  charms  from  the  per- 
fect artlessness  with  which  she  ventured  her  opinions.  The  interest 
with  which  I  regarded  her  I  persuaded  myself  was  that  of  an  older 
friend,  and  partook  of  a  paternal  character.  All  the  advice  my  ex- 
perience could  give  her  in  her  professional  studies  she  gratefully  ac- 
cepted and  skillfully  applied,  showing  an  aptness  for  improvement 
that  increased  the  partiality  she  had  awakened  in  me.  I  could  have 
wished  that  one  so  purely  minded  and  so  naturally  gifted  had  been 
placed  in  some  other  walk  of  life  ;  but  all  that  might  be  in  my  power 
for  her  advancement  I  resolved  to  do.  On  the  last  night  of  my  en- 
gagement at  Perth  I  sent  for  her  into  my  room,  and  presenting  her 
with  the  handsomest  shawl  I  could  procure  in  Perth,  I  bade  her  fare- 
well, desiring  her,  if  at  any  time  my  influence  or  aid  in  any  way  could 
serve  her,  to  apply  to  me  without  hesitation,  and  •  assuring  her  she 
might  rely  on  always  finding  a  ready  friend  in  me.  As  I  gazed  upon 
her  innocent  face  beaming  with  grateful  smiles,  the  wish  was  in  my 
heart  that  her  public  career  might  expose  her  to  no  immodest  advances 


158  MAC  READY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIV. 

to  disturb  the  serenity  or  sully  the  purity  of  her  unspotted  mind.  My 
way  lay  far  away  from  her,  but  her  image  accompanied  me  in  my 
southward  journey,  and,  I  may  say,  indeed  never  after  left  me. 

At  Lancaster  1  acted  two  nights,  reaching  Liverpool  in  good  time, 
for  my  fortnight's  engagement.  My  early  arrival  allowed  me  to  be 
present  at  a  public  dinner  given  in  aid  of  the  Liverpool  Theatrical 
Fund,  at  which  the  mayor,  Sir  J.  Tobin,  presided.  To  this  as  to  all 
the  other  provincial  theatrical  funds  I  subscribed  my  £10;  but  I 
should  have  acted  more  wisely  in  keeping  my  money  in  my  pocket. 
A  very  considerable  sum  was  accummulated  in  the  course  of  a  few 
years,  which  was,  unjustly  and  dishonestly  in  my  opinion,  as  a  mani- 
fest diversion  from  the  purpose  of  the  endowment,  divided  amongst 
the  few  remaining  members  of  the  fund.  If  no  legitimate  claimants 
for  relief  were  left,  it  ought  to  have  been  transferred  to  some  other 
similar  charity,  or  the  different  contributions  returned  to  their  sub- 
scribers. The  fortnight  at  Liverpool  realized  for  me  a  handsome 
sum,  though  my  plays  were  very  indifferently  mounted.  The  "  sweet 
Virginia  "  is  thus  depicted  in  the  beautiful  lines  of  Knowles  :  — 

"  I  know  not  whether  in  the  state  of  girlhood 
Or  womanhood  to  call  her.     'Twixt  the  two 
She  stands,  as  that  were  loath  to  lose  her,  this 
To  win  her  most  impatient.     The  young  year, 
Trembling  and  blushing  'twixt  the  striving  kisses 
Of  parting  Spring  and  meeting  Summer,  seems 
Her  only  parallel." 

But  she  was  represented  in  Liverpool  by  a  lady  of  considerable  talent 
in  maternal  characters,  looking  quite  old  enough  to  have  been  the 
mother  of  Virginius.  These  inappropriate  assumptions  call  to  re- 
membrance the  old  "player  who  complained  of  his  manager's  "  cru- 
elty "  in  superseding  him  in  the  character  of  the  youthful  George 
Barnwell,  after  he  had  successfully  acted  it  for  upwards  of  fifty  years. 
The  part  of  Lucius,  who  brings  to  Virginius  the  tidings  of  the  hor- 
rible outrage  on  his  child,  was  intrusted  to  a  Mr.  Cartlitch,  whose 
deeply  comical  tragedy  convulsed  the  audience  with  laughter,  and  the 
actors  at  rehearsal  were  scarcely  less  amused  when  Mr.  Bass  as  Icil- 
ius  replied  to  the  playful  question  of  Virginius,  u  Do  you  wait  for 
me  to  lead  Virginia  in,  or  will  you  do  it  ? "  "  Whichever  you 
please,  sir."  Notwithstanding,  the  houses  were  very  good,  and  I 
returned  to  London  for  my  fifth  Covent  Garden  season,  set  up  in 
funds  and  with  cheering  onward  prospects. 

My  first  savings  went  on  a  long  and  not  uninteresting  venture. 
One  of  the  brothers  of  a  Birmingham  family,  with  whom  in  early  life 
we  had  lived  in  close  intimacy,  was  making  preparations  for  a  voyage 
to  Van  Diemen's  Land.  With  several  children,  a  second  wife,  who 
soon  added  largely  to  their  number,  and  what  amount  of  money  he 
could  scrape  together  from  the  sale  of  a  heavily  incumbered  estate, 
he  looked  the  future  boldly  in  the  face  ;  but  by  the  outlay  he  had 
been  obliged  to  make  was  straitened  for  the  small  sum  of  £200, 


/820.  READING  MSS.  FOR  DRAMATIC  AUTHORS.  159 

which  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  lending  him.  His  career  was  one  of 
continual  crosses,  against  all  of  which  he  most  manfully  held  up.  He 
was  cheated  by  the  person  intrusted  with  his  funds  for  the  purchase 
of  sheep  ;  was  kept  out  of  his  grant  of  land  for  more  than  six  years, 
obtaining  it  at  last  only  by  parliamentary  influence  —  engaging  the 
interference  of  the  Colonial  Secretary ;  his  ship,  which  he  fitted  out 
for  the  South  Sea  whale-fishery,  was  wrecked  ;  and,  finally  he  had  to 
witness  the  total  destruction  by  fire  of  the  wooden  warehouse  he  had 
built  for  the  stowage  of  all  his  goods,  furniture,  and  implements  —  in 
fact,  his  entire  stock.  Even  then  his  constancy  did  not  desert  him  ; 
under  the  pressure  of  manifold  ills  his  spirit  never  gave  way.  On 
hearing  of  this  last  disaster  I  wrote  to  him  in  terms  of  condolence, 
and  with  the  acquittal  of  his  debt  to  me.  But  resolutely  and  cour- 
ageously he  continued  to  bear  up,  until  he  paid  off,  principal  and 
interest,  every  farthing  he  owed,  and,  dying,  left  an  excellent  fortune, 
and  a  name,  George  Meredith,  that  is  an  honor  to  his  descendants. 
Such  a  man's  history  is  worth  a  record  as  a  great  example  of  industry 
and  endurance. 

The  beginning  of  this  season  gave  repetitions  of  the  characters  of 
the  last  —  Virginius,  Henri  Quatre,  Rob  Roy,  etc.  The  first  new 
ones  ordered  by  the  management  were  lachimo  in  "  Cymbeline  "  (Oc- 
tober 18th,  1820),  and  Zanga  in  Dr.  Young's  "Revenge."  Divided 
between  the  two  I  made  little  impression  in  either.  In  Zanga,  Octo- 
ber 31st,  my  earnestness  kept  the  audience  in  interested  attention 
through  the  first  four  acts,  and  in  the  triumphant  exultation  over  the 
fallen  Alonzo  in  the  fifth  the  enthusiasm  of  the  house  was  raised  to 
a  very  high  pitch,  from  which  point  I  suddenly  and  most  unaccount- 
ably sank  down  into  comparative  tameness,  and  the  curtain  fell  to 
very  moderate  applause.  In  discussing  the  night's  event  with  Tal- 
fourd,  Wallace,  Procter,  and  some  other  friends  at  one  of  our  cus- 
tomary and  very  agreeable  symposia  —  at  which  pasha-ed  lobsters, 
champagne-punch,  and  lively  talk  prolonged  the  pleasure  of  the  even- 
ing's triumph,  or  cheered  the  gloom  of  defeat  —  it  was  a  subject  of 
general  surprise,  how  I  could  have  suffered  a  success  so  near  its  per- 
fect achievement  to  slip  from  my  grasp  ;  but  of  the  fact  there  could 
be  no  doubt  that  the  result  was  a  failure.  I  perceived  my  error  when 
too  late,  lamenting  the  neglected  opportunity.  To  lachimo  I  gave  no 
prominence  ;  but  in  subsequent  years  I  entered  with  glowing  ardor 
into  the  wanton  mischief  of  the  dissolute,  crafty  Italian. 

The  reception  of  "  Virgiuius  "  had  brought  on  me  a  great  increase  of 
applications  from  authors  to  read  their  MSS.,  a  task  which  was  ac- 
cepted by  me  as,  an  appropriate  and  positive  duty  pertaining  to  my 
position,  and  which,  although  engrossing  much  time  and  attention, 
was  most  conscientiously  discharged  by  me  to  the  very  end  of  my 
public  career.  It  had  its  compensations  to  balance  the  discontent 
and  hostility  which  sometimes  my  adverse  judgments  unwillingly  pro- 
voked. One  instance  was  singularly  curious.  A  youth  who,  as  head 
of  the  town  boys,  had  finished  with  credit  his  term  at  Westminster 


1GO  MAC  READY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIV. 

School,  was  desired  by  his  father  to  apply  himself  to  mathematics. 
Either  from  presumed  incapacity  or  aversion  to  the  study  he  peremp- 
torily refused,  and  his  father  as  peremptorily  refused  to  make  him 
any  allowance  to  go  to  the  University.  In  this  exigency  he  set  about 
writing  a  play  and  procured  an  introduction  to  me  from  my  relative, 
Captain  Birch,  with  the  request  that  I  would  read  it,  as  it  was  his 
sole  dependence.  In  my  judgment  it  was,  with  some  effective  dra- 
matic situations,  a  very  clever  school-boy  production,  but  little  more. 
I  pressed  on  him  the  necessity  of  greater  care  and  more  force  in  the 
language,  and  suggested  alterations'which,  when  made,  failing  to  sat- 
isfy me,  I  endeavored  to  dissuade  him  from  reliance  on  it.  But  the 
case  was  a  desperate  one,  and  he  was  so  urgent  in  requesting  the 
presentation  of  his  MS.  to  Mr.  Harris  that  I  could  no  longer  resist 
his  entreaties,  although  with  no  expectation  of  the  play's  acceptance. 
To  my  great  surprise  and  very  great  gratification  Mr.  Harris  did 
accept,  and,  put  at  once  into  rehearsal,  it  was  produced  November  14th 
under  its  title  of  "  Wallace,"  and  went  through  sixteen  representa- 
tions to  well-filled  houses  with  very  considerable  applause.  It  gave 
Mr.  "Walker  the  means  of  keeping  his  terms  at  Oxford,  where  he 
took  his  degree,  supporting  himself  through  his  college  course  by  his 
dramatic  writings,  and  indebted  to  his  own  industry  and  perseverance 
alone  for  this  important  step  in  life.  His  acknowledgments  were 
made  to  me  in  the  dedication  of  his  play. 

To  the  interest  I  took  in  its  production  I  owed  the  acquaintance  of 
Major  Cartwright,  who,  as  a  stickler  for  Parliamentary  Reform,  was 
regarded  by  his  Tory  opponents  as  a  monster  unfit  for  human  society, 
and,  for  mischief  and  malignity,  to  be  classed  with  "  Scorpion  and  asp 
and  amphisbasna  dire !  "  The  venerable  old  gentleman  was  of  most 
polished  manners,  of  almost  child-like  gentleness,  and  one  of  the  mild- 
est, most  charitable,  and  philanthropic  characters  that  ever  dignified 
humanity.  The  Reform  Bill  of  1832  went  very  far  beyond  his  ut- 
most dreams  of  popular  enfranchisement ;  but  democrat,  radical,  fa- 
natic, Jacobin,  were  terms  too  good  and  an  action  at  law  too  gentle  a 
correction  for  the  good  old  man.  We  have  lived  in  an  age  of  change  ; 
but  in  none  of  the  alterations  brought  about  by  the  wisdom  and  elo- 
quence of  our  leading  statesmen  has  the  improvement  of  our  social 
condition  been  more  distinctly  proved  than  in  the  tempered  tone  of 
political  discussion.  Opinion  is  no  longer  subject  to  legal  persecution. 
With  the  disappearance  of  Sidmouths,  Wilson  Crokers,  etc.,  the  con- 
duct of  our  institutions  has  been  liberalized.  Ex-officio  proceedings 
are  become  a  dead  letter.  Whilst  at  issue  on  the  choice  of  means  for 
effecting  a  public  benefit,  party  feeling  can  now  admit  sincerity  of  con- 
viction and  honesty  of  purpose  in  opposite  opinions.  The  law  of  prog- 
ress is  now  universally  accepted  as  God's  law,  and  the  question  of  de- 
bate is  only,  which  may  be  the  safer  way  of  carrying  it  into  effect 

The  Covent  Garden  managers  neglected  no  opportunity  of  enlisting 
recruits  that  might  be  likely  to  add  strength  to  their  corps,  and  with 
this  view  entered  into  an  engagement  with  Mr.  Vandenhoff,  who  had 


1821.  BARRY  CORNWALL'S  "  MIRANDOLA."  161 

obtained  a  considerable  provincial  reputation.  He  made  his  debut  in 
Tate's  version  of  "  King  Lear,"  December  9th,  and  was  received  with 
applause :  he  performed  afterwards  Sir  Giles  Overreach  once,  Corio- 
lanus  twice,  and  Rolla  once ;  later  in  the  season  he  appeared  in  a 
melodrama  that  was  acted  five  nights,  after  which  he  retired  from  the 
theater. 

The  next  novelty  of  the  season  was  Barry  Cornwall's  "  Mirandola." 
Its  history  was  peculiar.  He  began  it  by  writing  the  second  act,  the 
dramatic  power  and  interest  of  which  made  me  urgent  with  him  to 
piece  out  so  excellent  a  sample  into  a  perfect  whole.  He  then  pro- 
ceeded with  the  first.  The  catastrophe,  similar  to  that  of  "  Don  Car- 
los," "  Parisina,"  etc.,  was  already  settled  ;  but,  on  the  intervening 
scenes,  occupying  the  third,  fourth,  and  part  of  the  fifth  acts,  and 
forming  the  intrigue  of  the  story,  he  could  not  satisfy  himself.  In  de- 
spair he  wished  me  to  draw  out  a  plot  to  fill  up  this  extensive  chasm. 
I  made  a  draft  of  the  scenes,  acting  over  to  him  in  familiar  words  the 
passion  -of  each.  There  were  certainly  many  grounds  of  objection  to 
be  taken  to  it,  but,  hemmed  in  between  two  points  of  a  story,  it  was 
no  easy  work  so  to  adjust  events  as  exactly  to  fill  up  a  given  space. 
He  wished  me  to  consult  Sheil  on  it,  which  I  did,  and  brought  him 
back  Sheil's  decisive  opinion  that  the  dilemma  did  not  admit  of  any 
better  plan  of  extrication.  Faute  de  mieux  he  went  to  work  upon  it, 
and,  as  they  were  struck  off,  scene  by  scene  was  subjected  to  criticism 
and  alteration  till  the  whole  was  completed.  It  was  produced  Janu- 
ary 9th,  1821,  for  nine  nights  acted  to  overflowing  houses,  and  Barry 
Cornwall  received  £300  from  Warren  for  the  copyright.  But  during 
the  remaining  seven  nights  of  its  run  the  wind  was  taken  out  of  our 
sails  by  the  appearance  of  Miss  Wilson  at  Drury  Lane  as  Mandane  in 
"  Artaxerxes,"  who  became  the  attraction  of  the  town  for  twenty 
nights  from  the  report  of  George  IV.  having  heard  and  praised  the 
new  vocalist. 

About  this  time  I  received  from  Mr.  Atkins,  the  father  of  the  young 
actress  who  had  so  won  upon  my  favor  in  Scotland,  a  request  that  I 
would  recommend  his  daughter  to  some  respectable  theater  on  the  ex- 
piration of  her  engagement  with  Mr.  Ryder.  I  could  answer  for  her 
kindly  treatment  nowhere  so  securely  as  at  Bristol,  and  on  my  recom- 
mendation she  with  her  family  was  received  there,  where  she  continued 
for  two  years  her  course  of  improvement.  On  her  route  through  Lon- 
don she  called  with  her  father  to  thank  me,  and  impressed  on  me  more 
deeply  the  opinion  I  had  formed  of  her  innocence  and  amiability. 

My  professional  career  was  now  no  longer  subject  to  the  painful 
anxieties  which  each  new  attempt  had  formerly  cost  me.  I  was  es- 
tablished as  the  leading  tragedian  ;  the  principal  character  therefore  in 
each  play  fell  to  me  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  it  was  sufficient  incen- 
tive to  my  best  exertions  to  maintain  the  place  I  had  won. 

An  alteration  of  Gibber's  adaptation  of  "  King  Richard  III."  had 
been  sent  to  me  by  Mr.  Swift  of  the  Crown  Jewel  Otfice,  but  varying 
so  little  from  the  work  it  professed  to  reform,  that  I  was  obliged  to  ex- 
11 


1G2  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIV. 

tend  the  restoration  of  Shakespeare's  text,  and  it  was  submitted  (March 
12th,  1821)  to  the  public  ordeal.  The  experiment 1  was  partially  suc- 
cessful —  only  partially.  To  receive  full  justice,  Shakespeare's  "  Life 
and  Death  of  King  Richard  III."  should  be  given  in  its  perfect  integ- 
rity, whereby  alone  scope  could  be  afforded  to  the  active  piny  of  Rich- 
ard's versatility  and  unscrupulous  persistency.  But,  at  the  time  of 
which  I  write,  our  audiences  were  accustomed  to  the  coarse  jests  and 
ad  captandum  speeches  of  Gibber,  and  would  have  condemned  the 
omission  of  such  uncharacteristic  claptraps  as 

"  Off  with  his  head  !  so  much  for  Buckingham !  " 

or  such  bombast  as 

"  Hence,  babbling  dreams  :  you  threaten  here  in  vain. 
Conscience,  avaunt !    Richard  's  himself  again  !  " 

In  deference  to  the  taste  of  the  times,  the  passages  as  well  as  similar 
ones  were  retained.  At  a  later  period,  if  the  management  of  Covent 
Garden  in  1837-9  had  been  continued,  the  play,  with  many  others, 
would  have  been  presented  in  its  original  purity.2 

It  was  in  the  early  spring  of  this  year  an  occurrence  took  place  that 
was  destined  to  darken  the  fortunes  of  this  once  flourishing  theater,  to 
break  up  a  company  of  actors  and  actresses  that  presented  a  phalanx 
of  talent  unequaled,  perhaps,  in  the  history  of  the  stage,  and  ulti- 
mately to  reduce  this  splendid  property  to  a  state  of  irredeemable  in- 
solvency. From  the  date  of  the  O.  P.  riots  the  proprietors  had  to 
struggle  against  the  building  debt,  which  in  adverse  seasons  pressed 
heavily  upon  them.  By  dint  of  extraordinary  exertions,  managerial 

1  From  the  Times,  March  \Zth,  1821.  —  "At  a  period  when   Shakespeare  is  re- 
garded almost  with  idolatry,  any  attempt  to  rescue  the  original  text  of  his  plays 
from  the  omissions  and  interpolations  which  successive  ages  have  accumulated, 
must  at  least  be  viewed  with  favor  ;  with  that  feeling  we  witnessed  last  night  the 
representation  of  his  '  Life  and  Death  of  King  Richard  III.,'  which  was  announced 
to  be,  with  a  few  necessary  deviations,  the  text  of  the  author.     How  far  this  might 
have  been  deemed  by  the  public  an  improvement  on  Gibber's  alteration,  which  lias 
so  long  maintained  possession  of  the  stage,  we  are  unable  to  state,  as  the  condition 
has  not  been  complied  with  by  a  strict  adherence  either  to  the  words  of  Shake- 
speare or  to  the  order  of  his  scenes.     The  performance  of  last  night  was  merely 
another  arrangement  and  certainly  inferior  in  dramatic  effect  to  that  of  Gibber. 
....  The  only  scene  of  much  value  was  that  of 'the  Council  and  the  condemna- 
tion of  Hastings.     Macready  was  not  so  cool  and  indifferent  as  he  should  have 
been  in  his  previous  conversation  with  the  Council,  but  the  burst  of  anger  on  bar- 
ing his  arm  was  terrific.     His  Richard  is  a  performance  of  great  merit,  and  would 
be  still  more  complete,  if  he  always  retained  his  self-command." 

2  From  the  Morning  Herald,  March  I3lh,  1821. —  "We  shall  restrict  ourselves  to 
noticing  only  the  one  principal  scene  now  brought  for  the  first  time  on  the  stage  — 
that  of  the  Council,  in  which  Richard  orders  out  Hastings  for  immediate  death. 
It  afforded  the  display  of  uncommon  power.     The  artful  vehemence  with  which 
the  actor  stunned  the  Council  and  the  accused,  the  picturesque  effect,  and  reality 
(if  we  may  so  express  it)  of  illusion,  with  which  he  bared  his  arm,  as  the  witness 
of  his  wrongs,  and  the  masterly  control  with  which  he  governed  himself  in  the 
very  whirlwind  of  declamation,  produced  upon  the  audience  one  of  those  electric 
effects,  which  arc  but  rarely  witnessed,  and  which  it  is  delightful  to  share." 


1821.  JOHN  AND   CHARLES  KEMBLE.  163 

tact,  and  an  untiring  spirit  of  enterprise,  the  greater  part  of  this  was 
now  paid  off;  and  there  was  every  reason  to  believe  that  a  few  more 
years  would  see  the  property  disincumbered.  But,  until  that  wished- 
for  consummation,  each  partner  was  personally  liable  to  the  creditors ; 
and  as  John  Kemble  from  his  age  could  not  look  forward  to  derive 
much  profit  from  its  successes,  he  was  enduring  a  responsibility  and  in- 
curring danger  with  no  adequate  prospect  of  compensation.  He  there- 
fore, very  discreetly,  came  from  Lausanne,  where  he  was  residing,  and 
by  deed  of  gift  made  a  transfer  of  his  share,  one  fourth,  to  his  brother 
Charles,  to  whom  it  had  always  been  expected  he  would  bequeath  it. 
Some  newspapers  made  a  scene  of  the  transaction,  ending  with  the 
brothers  "  falling  into  each  other's  arras  ; "  but  to  John  Kemble  the 
surrender  was  virtually  a  release,  whilst  to  Charles,  who  had  np  prop- 
erty to  tempt  a  creditor's  legal  process,  it  might  afford  au  opening  to 
the  management  whereby  he  might  gratify  his  ambition  in  acting  char- 
acters to  which  he  had  hitherto  vainly  aspired.  In  comedy  he  was 
without  a  rival ;  in  tragedy  he  was  first-rate  in  second-rate  parts,  but 
never  could  be  content  with  this  position  :  with  the  universal  and  lib- 
eral approbation  awarded  to  his  performance  of  Cassio  and  Macduff, 
repining  at  the  cold  reception  given  to  him  in  Macbeth  and  Othello. 
It  was  on  this-  occasion  I  met  John  Kemble  at  dinner  at  Fawcett's. 
Charles  Kemble,  Henry  Harris,  Vernon,  the  munificent  donor  of  the 
gallery,  and  Baldwin,  the  breeches'-pocket  representative  for  Totness, 
made  up  the  party.  John  Kemble  was  interesting  and  amusing  in 
his  reminiscences  of  Dr.  Johnson,  and  some  other  worthies  of  his  early 
days.  It  was  the  last  time  I  ever  saw  him. 

I  am  reminded  of  another  dinner  at  which  I  met  some  memorable 
persons  this  year,  at  the  house  of  a  man  who  subsequently  obtained  a 
dreadful  notoriety  by  the  name  of  Wainwright.  He  was  then  an  ar- 
tist, a  disciple  and  imitator  of  Fuseli,  and  a  litterateur,  living  in  hand- 
some rooms  in  Great  Marlborough  Street,  and  supposed  to  possess 
some  property.  At  his  table  were  Hazlitt,  Gary,  the  translator  of 
Dante  — Procter,  I  think  —  and  some  other  literary  men.  He  was  a 
contributor  to  Scott's  "  London  Magazine,"  under  the  signature  of 
Janus  Weathercock.  For  some  years  after  his  disappearance  from 
London,  fearful  suspicions  were  afloat  concerning  him  on  account  of 
the  mysterious  deaths  of  his  wife's  uncle  and  his  sister-in-law,  whose 
life  was  heavily  insured  in  many  of  the  London  offices.  He  had  taken 
refuge  on  the  Continent,  where  he  underwent  imprisonment  for  three 
months  on  a  charge  of  having  poison  in  his  possession  for  which  he 
could  not  give  a  satisfactory  account.  It  was  full  twenty  years  after 
my  brief  acquaintance  with  him  in  London,  that,  in  going  over  New- 
gate prison  with  my  friend  Dickens,  I  looked  through  an  eyelet-hole 
in  one  of  the  cells  where  were  four  prisoners,  and  to  my  surprise  and, 
I  may  say,  horror,  among  them  distinguished  the  features  of  this 
wretched  Wainwright.  Having  pleaded  guilty  to  the  charge  of  for- 
gery, he  was  sentenced  to  transportation  and  sent  to  New  South  Wales, 
with  the  suspicion  of  several  murders  very  strong  against  him.  He 
died  there  in  one  of  the  hospitals. 


1G4  MACREADVS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIV. 

There  were  some  checks  to  the  attractive  course  of  this  Covent 
Garden  season,  but  it  proved  a  very  prosperous  one  at  its  close.  In  a 
melange  that  was  called  Shakespeare's  '"  Tempest,"  with  songs  inter- 
polated by  Reynolds  among  the  mutilations  and  barbarous  ingraftings 
of  Dryden  and  Davenport,  and  sung  by  Miss  Stephens  and  Miss  M. 
Tree,  I  had  to  act,  May  15th,  1821,  the  remnant  that  was  left  of  the 
character  of  .Prospero,  but  not  for  many  nights.  The  tragic  play  of 
"  Damon  and  Pythias,"  written  originally  by  Banim,  but  so  amended 
and  added  to  by  Sheil  as  to  make  it  a  joint  production,  was  accepted 
by  Mr.  Harris,  and  acted  May  28th  with  very  great  applause.  The 
single  well-known  incident  on  which  it  is  based  did  not  give  scope  for 
the  development  of  strong  individual  character,  though  there  were  in 
it  scenes  of  thrilling  interest.  Charles  Kemble  acted  Pythias  remark- 
ably well,  and  to  myself,  from  the  effect  of  the  performance  of  Damon, 
the  play  gave  additional  popularity.  It  was  dedicated  to  me  by  the 
authors,  and  I  had  every  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  its  production,  but 
it  did  not  unfortunately  swell  the  treasury's  receipts,  and  its  run  was 
in  consequence  limited  to  seven  nights. 

And  now  came  on  one  of  the  most  searching  of  those  trials  in  the 
player's  life  that  test  and  stamp  his  qualifications  as  the  personator  of 
distinctive  characters  ;  that  put  to  proof,  in  no  ordinary  degree,  the 
accuracy  of  his  perceptions,  the  correctness  of  his  judgments,  his  pene- 
tration into  the  innermost  depths  of  thought  and  feeling,  and,  withal, 
his  powers  of  execution.  Hamlet  was  announced  for  my  benefit  on 
the  8th  of  June,  1821.  Upon  this  wonderful  creation  of  Shakespeare, 
in  which  the  language  is  so  often  a  disguise  for  the  passion  beneath  it, 
more  has  been  written  than  probably  on  any  other  character,  real  or 
fictitious,  within  the  whole  range  of  literature.  But  are  we  indebted 
to  the  poet's  numerous  commentators  for  the  unraveling  what  seems 
mysterious  in  it,  and  rendering  clear  what  might  be  obscure  in  the 
text ;  or  are  we  not,  in  the  generality  of  his  critics,  made  sensible  of 
the  vain  ambition  to  obtain  credit  for  critical  sagacity,  and  to  gain  dis- 
tinction by  the  association  of  their  smaller  names  with  the  great  one 
of  the  author  ? 

"  Letting  their  little  barks  attendant  sail, 
Pursue  the  triumph  and  partake  the  gale." 

Of  most,  with  the  exception  of  Coleridge,  Tieck,  Goethe,  and  Schle- 
gel,  I  believe,  this  may  be  said.  To  illustrate  and  to  interpret  the 
poet's  thought  is  the  player's  province,  and  conscientiously  to  labor  to 
this  end  is  the  only  ennobling  and  elevating  duty  which  the  practice 
of  his  art  delegates  to  him.  I  have  before  observed  that  no  actor  pos- 
sessed of  moderate  advantages  of  person,  occasional  animation,  and 
some  knowledge  of  stage  business  can  entirely  fail  in  the  part  of  Ilani- 
let;  the  interest  of  the  story  and  the  rapid  succession  of  startling  situ- 
ations growing  out  of  it  compel  the  attention  of  the  spectator,  and  ir- 
resistibly engage  his  sympathy.  But  to  make  the  mind  of  Hamlet 
apparent,  to  render  his  seeming  inconsistencies  reconcilable  and  intelli- 


1821.  "HENRY  IV."  165 

gible,  is  the  artist's  study  ;  and  a  task  to  which  the  majority  of  players, 
content  with  the  applause  which  a  dexterous  employment  of  stage  trick 
is  certain  to  obtain,  rarely  aspire.  My  meditations  on  the  character 
continued  to  the  close  of  my  career,  and  I  will  defer  the  exposition  of 
my  views  upon  it  to  the  record  of  my  last  performance,  if  I  am  per- 
mitted to  complete  the  registry  of  my  life's  doings.  On  this  occasion 
the  theater  was  crowded,  and  the  applause  throughout  the  play  most 
enthusiastic.  It  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  me ;  and  a  supper  given 
at  Talfourd's  chambers  in  the  Temple  was  a  most  agreeable  wind-up 
to  an  eventful  day. 

The  approaching  coronation  of  George  IV.,  19th  July,  1821,  for 
which  preparations  had  been  making  during  the  past  year,  occupied 
general  attention,  fifty-eight  years  having  passed  since  a  similar  show 
had  been  exhibited.  Of  course  the  theaters  took  advantage  of  it,  Co- 
vent  Garden  anticipating  its  pageantry  in  the  crowning  of  King  Henry 
V.  in  Shakespeare's  historical  play  of  the  "  Second  Part  of  King  Henry 
IV.,"  and  Elliston  waiting  for  the  performance  of  the  Fourth  George 
in  Westminster  Abbey  in  order  to  present  as  faithful  a  copy  of  it  as 
the  dimensions  of  Drury  Lane  Theater  would  allow.  In  King  Henry 
IV.  the  part  of  the  King  was  sent  to  me.  John  Kemble  had  revived 
the  play  in  1804,  but  produced  little  effect  in  the  dying  Bolingbroke, 
which  was  owing,  as  Harris  informed  me,  to  his  being  "  too  sick  ;  "  he 
was  "  only  partially  and  imperfectly  heard."  Garrick  had  not  given 
the  prominence  he  had  expected  to  the  part ;  and  for  these  reasons,  and 
believing  the  audience  would  be  impatient  for  the  show  with  which 
the  play  was  to  end,  I  begged  hard  to  be  excused  from  appearing  in 
it.  But  my  objections  were  set  aside,  and  very  properly ;  it  was  nec- 
essary to  support  the  cast  with  the  whole  strength  of  the  company,  and 
I  could  not  be  left  out  of  the  leading  tragic  part.  To  every  line  in  it 
I  gave  the  most  deliberate  attention,  and  felt  the  full  power  of  its  pa- 
thos. The  audience  hung  intently  on  every  word,  and  two  distinct 
rounds  of  applause  followed  the  close  of  the  soliloquy  on  sleep,  as  I 
sank  down  upon  the  couch.  The  same  tribute  was  evoked  by  the  line, 
"  Thy  wish  was  father,  Harry,  to  that  thought !  "  —  which,  I  may  say, 
was  uttered  directly  from  the  heart.  The  admission  of  the  perfect  suc- 
cess of  the  performance  was  without  dissent,  and  it  was  after  being 
present  at  one  of  its  representations  that  Lord  Carlisle  wished  me  to 
be  introduced  to  him.  He  had  seen  and  remembered  Garrick  in  the 
part,  and  said  very  kind  things  of  me  in  reference  to  it.  He  presented 
me  with  the  volume  of  his  poems,  so  unmercifully  dealt  with  by  Lord 
Byron ;  wished  me  to  see  his  Zoffanys,  which  are  amongst  the  best 
specimens  of  the  artist ;  and  gave  me  a  very  pressing  invitation  to 
visit  him  in  the  vacation  at  Castle  Howard.  The  revival  of  the 
play  rewarded  the  managers  with  houses  crowded  to  the  ceiling  for 
many  nights,  nor  was  this  attributable  to  the  pageant  only,  for  the 
acting  was  of  the  highest  order.  Farren  as  Shallow,  Emery  as  Si- 
lence, Blanchard  as  Pistol,  Charles  Kemble  as  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
Mrs.  Davenport  as  Dame  Quickly,  were  admirable.  Fawcett  was  the 


166         .  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIV. 

best  Falstaff  then  upon  the  stage,  but  he  more  excelled  in  other  char- 
acters. 

Mathews,  so  distinguished  for  his  powers  of  mimicry,  had  more 
than  once  expressed  his  intention  of  adding  a  portrait  of  myself  to  his 
gallery  of  theatrical  notables,  and  entertaining  a  high  opinion  of  him 
and  liking  him  very  much,  I  determined  to  present  him  with  one. 
Jackson  went  to  see  me  in  Henry  IV.,  the  character  in  which  I  pro- 
posed to  sit  to  him.  The  picture  had  made  considerable  progress, 
when  Fawcett  called  with  me  one  day  to  see  it.  On  coming  out 
from  Jackson's  studio,  he  exclaimed,  "  Why  William,  you  must  not 
give  that  picture  away — Jackson  has  never  done  anything  like  it!" 
When  I  reported  this  to  Jackson,  his  quiet  answer  was,  "  Well :  it  is 
very  easy  to  paint  another ;  you  would  not  mind  paying  for  the 
ground-colors  being  rubbed  in  by  another  hand,  would  you  ?  "  My 
objections  were  vain  to  this  proposal  of  my  most  liberal  friend.  His 
pupil  made  a  rough  copy  of  the  picture,  which  Jackson,  putting  the 
first  draft  aside,  finished  at  once.  I  sent  it  with  a  kind  note  to 
Mathews,  from  whom  I  received  this  answer  : 

"  DEAR  MACREADT,  —  It  is  not  in  my  power  to  express  satisfactorily  to  myself 
my  feelings  of  surprise  and  pleasure  on  the  receipt  of  your  splendid  present,  and 
the  gratifying  letter  that  accompanied  it.  The  value  of  the  one  is  very  much  en- 
hanced by  the  other,  and  in  this  hurried  acknowledgment  (for  Colonel  VVigston  is 
waiting  while  I  write,  as  I  understood  you  had  left  England  early  yesterday  morn- 
ing) I  feel  unable  to  express  as  I  ought  the  gratification  I  feel  on  the  unexpected 
occasion  of  your  liberality  and  gratifying  assurances  of  friendship,  which  from  a 
man  like  yourself  I  feel  particularly  welcome  to  my  self-love.  The  picture  is  a 
most  beautiful  work  of  art,  and  a  perfect  resemblance.  A  Garrick  was  removed  to 
make  room  for  it  in  an  hour  after  my  return  home  on  Saturday  evening.  It  was 
seen  by  many  persons  yesterday  and  universally  admired.  It  is  as  great  an  orna- 
ment to  my  gallery  as  its  original  is  to  the  profession  and  sphere  he  moves  in. 

"  Believe  that  you  have  much  gratified  me,  and  I  look  forward  on  my  return  to 
England  with  great  satisfaction  to  the  assurance  you  have  given  me  that  I  may 
have  more  opportunities  than  hitherto  of  increasing  that  friendship  which  I  shall 
feel  an  honor  to  retain. 

"  Believe  me,  dear  Macready,  very  gratefully  and  sincerely  yours, 

"  C.  MATIIEWS. 

"  HIGHGATE  HILL,  July  1st." 

The  original  painting  was  not  replaced  on  the  easel  until  late  in 
the  year,  when  it  was  finished  and  exhibited  at  the  British  Gallery, 
Pall  Mall,  where  it  was  pronounced  a  specimen  of  coloring  equal  to 
the  best  of  the  Flemish  school.1 

It  was  in  the  month  of  May  in  this  year  that  the  first  number  of  a 
theatrical  periodical  entitled  the  "  Dramatic  Enquirer  "  or  "  Examiner  " 
—  I  forget  the  exact  name  it  bore  —  was  sent  to  me  with  "  the  Edi- 
tor's compliments."  The  frontispiece  was  a  portrait  of  myself  in  the 
character  of  Henri  Quatre.  The  face  had  been  copied  from  Jackson's 
drawing  of  Virginius,  but  the  hair  was  turned  back  on  the  head,  and 

1  Jackson's  portrait  of  Macready  in  the  character  of  Henry  IV.  will  ultimately, 
under  his  bequest,  be  placed  in  the  National  Portrait  Gallery,  as  also  will  the 
marble  bust  of  him  by  Behnes.  The  duplicate  of  the  portrait,  given  to  Mathews, 
is  in  the  collection  of  the  Garritk  Club.  —  ED. 


1821.  COUNTRY  ENGAGEMENTS.  167 

armor  on  the  chest  and  shoulders  was  substituted  for  the  folds  of  the 
Roman  drapery.  The  leading  article  was  a  biograhpical  sketch  of 
myself,  exceedingly  complimentary  on  my  recent  successes,  but 
the  utter  amazement  I  felt  in  reading  a  romantic  story,  circumstan- 
tially detailed,  of  my  rescue  of  a  child  from  the  flames  of  a  burning 
house  in  Birmingham,  may  be  well  imagined.  I  retraced  the  past 
events  of  my  bustling  life,  but  among  them  .there  was  nothing  to  sup- 
port or  justify  this  extraordinary  invention.  Fearful  of  its  being  sup- 
posed that  I  had  in  any  degree4  participated  in  giving  currency  to  such 
a  fiction,  I  called  next  morning  at  the  office  of  the  publication  in  Cath- 
erine Street,  Strand,  requesting  to  see  the  Editor.  He  was  "  not 
within,  but  any  message  I  might  have  for  him,"  the  woman,  a  respecta- 
ble-looking person  who  had  charge  of  the  office,  assured  me  she  would 
"  punctually  convey."  Accordingly,  referring  to  the  article  in  the 
magazine,  I  begged  her  to  inform  the  Editor  that  no  such  circum- 
stance as  that  related  of  the  fire  had  ever  occurred,  and  that  it  was  my 
particular  request  he  would  in  his  next  number  give  a  direct  contradic- 
tion to  the  statement.  She  promised  faithfully  to  repeat  my  words 
but  at  the  same  time  stated  her  conviction  that  the  Editor  had  received 
the  account  from  what  he  considered  "  unquestionable  authority."  I 
was  earnest  in  repeating  my  denial  and  my  hope  that  the  next  number 
would  set  the  truth  before  the  public.  I  heard  no  more  of  the  pub- 
lication, and  fancy  it  must  have  died  in  its  birth  from  the  paucity  of 
its  readers :  but  not  so  the  story  it  had  promulgated,  as  the  sequel  will 
show. 

The  attraction  of  the  coronation  in  "  Henry  IV."  was  so  great  that 
Covent  Garden  Theater  was  kept  open  beyond  the  usual  period  of  its 
season  —  to  my  loss,  having  very  lucrative  country  engagements  in 
prospect ;  some  I  was  prevented  from  fulfilling  and  obliged  to  relin- 
quish. Being  announced  to  appear  at  Birmingham  on  Monday,  July 
30th,  1821,  I  was  greatly  embarrassed  by  the  continuance  of  my  name 
in  the  Covent  Garden  play-bill  for  King  Henry  IV.  on  the  same  even- 
ing. I  had  no  alternative  but  to  set  off,  after  acting  at  Covent  Garden 
on  Saturday,  and  travel  all  night  (there  were  no  railways  or  telegrams 
then)  to  see  Mr.  Bunn,  the  Birmingham  manager,  on  the  Sunday,  and 
explain  to  him  the  dilemma  in  which  I  was  placed.  It  was  thereon 
decided  that  my  appearance  at  Birmingham  should  be  deferred  to  the 
Wednesday,  and  he  went  back  with  me  in  my  carriage  to  London, 
traveling  again  through  the  night ;  all  was  amicably  settled.  I  acted 
in  London  on  Monday  and  Tuesday,  and  by  another  night  journey 
was  able  to  begin  a  very  profitable  fortnight's  engagement  at  Birming- 
ham on  the  next  day,  Wednesday,  in  the  part  of  Virginius.  From 
thence  to  Nottingham;  on  to  Derby,  to  Cheltenham,  Halifax,  and 
Liverpool,  where  I  remained  three  weeks,  putting  money  in  my  purse, 
and,  in  all  the  high  spirits  of  health  and  youth,  enjoying  the  prosperity 
of  my  career.  This  brought  me  up  to  the  middle  of  September,  when 
I  had  set  apart  a  fortnight  for  the  enjoyment  of  a  holiday  after  my 
hard  work,  and  another  gaze  upon  that  lovely  and  grand  Highland 


1G8  MAC  READY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIV. 

scenery  which  had  so  impressed  its  pictures  on  my  memory,  and  which 
I  can  even  now  with  pleasure  call  up  before  me.  My  young  friend 
Walker,  who  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  accompany  me  in  my  short 
Highland  tour,  met  me  at  Liverpool,  and  we  proceeded  together  to 
Glasgow ;  I  spent  a  couple  of  days  there  with  my  friends,  Knowles 
and  John  Tait,  and,  uniting  business  with  pleasure,  entered  into  an 
agreement  with  the  managers  of  the  theater  to  act  there  two  nights  on 
my  return  from  Argylshire.  My  intention  had  been  to  visit  Staflfa 
and  Icolmkill ;  but  this  the  stormy  state  of  the  weather  prevented. 
We  took  with  us  the  eldest  son  of  Knowles,  a  fine  lad  of  twelve  years 
of  age,  since  dead  in  India.  We  made  our  way  down  the  Clyde  to 
Dumbarton  and  Loch  Lomond,  and  up  the  lake  as  far  as  Tarbert, 
from  whence,  round  the  head  of  Loch  Long,  we  ascended  the  wild  pass 
of  Glencroe,  which  brought  us  down  to  Cairndow  on  the  shores  of  Loch 
Fine.  Crossing  the  Lake  to  Inverara,  we  were  here  provided  with  a 
very  stylish  tilbury  and  good  saddle-horse,  sent  forward  from  Glasgow 
to  meet  us.  Alternating  the  drive  and  ride,  we  spent  ten  very  pleas- 
ant days  in  a  hurried  tour  by  Dalmally  on  Loch  Awe,  Tyndrum,  Loch 
Earn  Head,  Callander,  Loch  Katrine,  Port  Menteith,  Stirling,  and 
back  to  Glasgow.  But  for  the  perfect  enjoyment  of  romantic  scenery 
the  tourist  must  be  content  to  rough  it  in  his  daily  walk  of  20  or  30 
miles  with  his  knapsack  at  his  back ;  his  "  foot  must  be  like  arrow 
free,"  that  in  his  struggles  upwards  to  the  mountain's  top,  and  in  his 
extensive  survey  of  the  world  of  beauty  stretched  around  and  far  below 
him,  the  excitement  of  his  spirits  as  they  drink  in  the  spectacle  may 
make  him  conscious  of  pleasure  in  the  mere  feeling  of  existence. 
Horses  and  carriages  may  be  to  some  a  luxury,  but  to  the  lover  of 
nature  they  become  in  such  scenes  a  positive  incumbrance.  I  experi- 
enced the  truth  of  this  in  contrasting  with  my  former  pedestrian  ram- 
ble, the  gayer  turnout  on  this  occasion.  At  Glasgow  I  recommenced 
to  well-filled  houses  my  "  starring  "  course,  pursuing  it  through  Car- 
lisle, Richmond  in  Yorkshire,  Scarborough  and  Whitby,  indulging  in 
those  places  my  appetite  for  the  picturesque  and  beautiful  in  the  noble 
ruins  and  striking  scenery  that  give  interest  to  them,  whilst  with  every 
change  of  billet  my  banker's  account  was  steadily  improving,  to  which 
the  theaters  of  Leicester,  Nottingham,  and  Manchester  very  liberally 
also  contributed. 

But  the  time  had  arrived  when  I  could  no  longer  delay  giving  a 
direct  answer  to  the  overtures  of  Mr.  Harris.  My  first  Co  vent  Gar- 
den engagement  of  five  years  expired  with  the  last  season,  and  he  was 
anxious  to  secure  my  services  for  a  similar  term.  Young  was  re-en- 
gaged, therefore  a  personal  conference  with  the  manager  seemed  to  me 
necessary  to  perfect  the  understanding  between  us,  and  accordingly  I 
hurried  up  to  London  and  met  him  with  Mr.  Reynolds.  He  was  frank 
and  friendly,  and  very  few  words  were  needed  to  make  our  compact 
mutually  satisfactory.  I  required  the  highest  salary  given  in  the  the- 
ater, to  which  he  admitted  I  was  entitled,  and  "  should  have  it."  In  a 
brief  conversation  he  explained  to  me  the  cause  of  the  maximum  salary 


1821.  SECOND   COVENT  GARDEN  ENGAGEMENT.  169 

being  reduced  from  £25  per  week  to  £20,  "  at  which  both  Young  and 
Miss  Stephens  were  then  engaged ; "  and  in  signing  my  agreement  at 
£20  per  week  for  five  years,  he  pledged  his  word  under  witness  of  Mr. 
Reynolds,  that  "  if  any  regular  performer  in  the  theater  should  receive 
more  than  that  sum,  my  payment  should  be  immediately  raised  to  the 
same  amount."  This  ill-advised  measure  of  linking  together  a  written 
and  a  verbal  contract  was  in  the  issue  fraught  with  consequences  of  a 
very  distressing  nature :  but  the  signatures  were  affixed,  and  being 
under  an  engagement  to  act  six  nights  with  my  friend  Mr.  Mansel  at 
Hull,  it  was  arranged  that  I  should  appear  at  Covent  Garden  in  "  Vir- 
ginius  "  on  Monday,  November  26th,  1821. 

I  now  took  the  upper  part  of  a  house  in  Berners  Street,  No.  67, 
and  entered  on  niy  second  Covent  Garden  engagement.  Great  was 
the  difference  in  my  circumstances  and  position  from  my  entrance  on 
the  first.  I  had  now  invested  some  little  sums,  and  could  count  many 
and  ardent  friends  where  then  I  had  scarcely  an  acquaintance.  The 
doubt  and  apprehension  under  which  I  ventured  on  each  primary  es- 
say were  now  succeeded  by  confidence  in  the  just  or  indulgent  appre- 
ciation of  my  audience,  whenever  by  diligence  and  resolute  endeavor 
I  might  make  myself  master  of  the  subjects  of  my  study ;  I  shared 
with  Young  the  station  of  leading  tragedian,  and  in  all  respects  we 
stood  on  a  perfect  equality.  But  it  was  so  much  the  more  impera- 
tively necessary  that  no  effort  towards  continued  improvement  should 
be  relaxed,  and  with  this  renewed  determination  I  awaited  the  events 
of  time.  There  was  little  of  theatrical  interest  in  the  early  part  of 
the  season  at  either  theater.  Kean  at  Drury  Lane  made  trial  of  sev- 
eral characters :  one  in  a  new  tragedy  called  "  Owen,  Prince  of 
Powys,"  written  I  believe,  by  Miss  Jane  Porter  —  a  sad  failure ; 
others  in  old  stock  plays,  productive  of  little  effect ;  but  in  the  revival 
of  Joanna  Baillie's  "  De  Montfort,"  with  alterations  by  the  authoress, 
he  shone  out  in  the  full  splendor  of  his  genius.  The  play  was,  however, 
with  all  its  great  merit,  too  heavy  and  gloomy  to  be  attractive,  and  its 
early  withdrawal  deprived  me  of  the  satisfaction  of  witnessing  a  per- 
formance which  was  spoken  of  as  singularly  triumphant.  At  Covent 
Garden  the  dramatic  romance  of  the  "  Exile,"  in  which  Young  gave 
unusual  prominence  to  the  part  of  Daran,  was  brought  out  with  the 
pageant  of  a  coronation,  .and  had  a  very  long  run.  My  appearances 
were  in  consequence  infrequent,  and  limited  to  characters  with  which 
the  town  was  familiar. 

In  the  course  of  the  two  past  seasons  I  had  made  several  excursions 
to  my  father's  theater  at  Bristol,  where  crowded  houses  almost  invari- 
ably welcomed  me.  These  visits  brought  more  particularly  under  my 
notice  the  young  actress,  Miss  Atkins,  who  had  so  won  upon  my  inter- 
est. In  her  unaffected  pathos  and  sprightliness  I  had  seen  the  germ 
of  very  rare  talent,  and  was  anxious  its  development  should  not  be 
marred  by  any  premature  attempt.  The  counsel  which,  in  conse- 
quence, I  sought  to  impress  on  her  led  to  frequent  conversations  and 
eventually  to  correspondence,  which  I  tried  to  make  instrumental  to 


170  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CIIAP.  XIV.  * 

the  advancement  of  her  education,  and  then  it  was,  in  my  own  case  as 
no  doubt  in  hers,  that  "  love  approached  me  under  friendship's  name," 
although  unsuspected  and  unconfessed  in  either  of  us. 

It  was  in  this  season  that,  at  Charles  Kemble's  instigation,  excep- 
tions to  the  management  of  Mr.  Harris  were  taken  by  the  other  pro- 
prietors, and  hostilities  aroused  that  led  in  the  sequel  to  the  ruin  of 
the  property.  The  grave  has  closed  over  all  the  parties  at  issue  in 
the  conflict,  and  I  have  no  wish  to  touch  on  any  of  the  accusations  re- 
torted between  them  beyond  what  may  be  necessary  to  explain  the 
embarrassing  position  in  which  their  dispute  placed  me.  The  main 
facts  are  these :  —  Charles  Kemble,  now  a  co-proprietor,  was  desirous 
of  obtaining  sway  in  the  management,  to  which  Mr.  Harris,  the 
owner  of  one  half  and  a  fraction  of  the  concern,  refused  to  assent. 
The  threat  of  a  suit  in  Chancery  was  so  far  effectual  in  bringing  the 
parties  to  terms  of  settlement  that  a  lease  between  them  was  decided 
on.  The  malcontents  —  Charles  Kemble,  Willet,  Captain  Forbes, 
R.  N.,  and  the  representatives  of  Mrs.  Martindale  —  proposed  to  take 
it.  Mr.  Harris  demanded  a  rent  of  £12,500,  per  annum  for  seven 
years.  Upon  the  rejection  of  these  terms,  Mr.  Harris  offered  to  take 
the  theater  upon  the  same  terms.  This  was  not  the  object  of  the  dis- 
senting party,  the  management  of  the  establishment  was  what  they 
aimed  at ;  and,  accordingly  declining  the  tender  of  Mr.  Harris,  they 
consented  to  become  the  lessees  of  Covent  Garden  Theater  at  the  an- 
nual rent  of  £12,500  for  a  term  of  seven  years.  Unluckily  for  Mr. 
Harris,  upon  their  signatures  to  an  agreement  to  sign  the  same  lease, 
he  gave  them  possession,  instead  of  waiting  for  the  complete  execu- 
tion of  the  legal  document.  The  transfer  was  so  far  effected  that  the 
committee,  as  these  lessees  were  now  styled,  entered  officially  on  the 
new  premises  and  on  their  new  office  utterly  and,  unhappily,  ignorant 
of  the  business  they  had  taken  in  hand.  One  of  the  first  duties  in- 
cumbent on  them  in  taking  office  was  to  acknowledge  and  guarantee 
the  performers'  engagements.  As  a  stipulation,  verbally  given,  made 
an  important  part  of  mine,  Charles  Kemble  wished  to  have  from  Mr. 
Harris  his  confirmation  of  my  statement,  and  with  my  ready  consent 
the  point  was  to  remain  in  abeyance  until  it  could  be  submitted  to  and 
acknowledged  by  him.  The  committee  was  not  ostensibly  "  the  man- 
agement :  "  Charles  Kemble  as  "  acting  manager  "  being  "  viceroy 
over  them,"  and  Fawcett,  whose  alleged  incompetency  had  been  one 
of  their  main  grounds  of  complaint,  was  retained  in  his  office  of  "  stage 
manager  "  and  invested  with  more  power  than  before.  The  appear- 
ance of  Charles  Kemble  in  the  "  School  for  Scandal  "  late  in  March 
was  the  only  notification  of  any  change  having  taken  place. 

The  season  dragged  its  slow  length  along,  but  received  an  impetus 
from  the  performance  of  "  Julius  Caesar,"  Young  acting  Brutus ;  my- 
self, Cassius ;  Charles  Kemble,  Mark  Antony ;  and  Fawcett,  Casca. 
The  receipt  of  the  first  night  exceeded,  it  was  said,  £600,  and  the 
house  was  crowded  to  its  several  repetitions.  On  this  occasion  I  en- 
tered con  amore  into  the  study  of  the  character  of  Cassius,  identifying 


1822.  OTHELLO.  171 

myself  with  the  eager  ambition,  the  keen  penetration,  and  the  restless 
envy  of  the  determined  conspirator,  which,  from  that  time,  I  made  one 
of  my  most  real  personations. 

A  very  bad  play  by  George  Col  man,  called  "  The  Law  of  Java,"  in 
which  Young,  Listen,  Fawcett,  Jones,  Miss  M.  Tree,  and  Miss  Stephens 
had  parts,  was  not  calculated  to  raise  the  spirits  of  the  lessees.  It  was 
a  complete  failure,  and  determined  them  on  closing  the  theater  a  fort- 
night earlier  than  usual ;  the  benefits  were  accordingly  brought  on 
without  delay.  Young  took  King  John,  in  which  I  acted  Hubert  for 
him.  He  was  most  earnest  in  his  acknowledgments  to  me,  not  only 
for  acting  the  part,  but  for  the  manner  in  which,  in  his  great  scene, 
I  placed  myself  upon  the  stage  to  give  prominence  to  his  effects. 
"Othello"  I  chose  for  my  benefit,  Young  volunteering  himself  for 
lago,  or  Anything  else ;  as  he  said,  "  Whatever  I  might  wish  him  to 
do  I  had  but  to  name  it."  Our  rivalry  was  always  maintained  on  the 
most  gentlemanly  footing.  My  house  was  great,  and  my  improved 
representation  of  the  Moor  1  strengthened  my  hold  on  public  opinion. 

My  summer  vacation  I  desired  to  spend  in  a  tour  through  Italy, 
hoping  to  find  suggestions  in  my  own  art  from  the  contemplation  of 
the  great  works  of  sculpture  and  painting  which  I  could  only  see 
there.  I  set  to  work  intently  on  the  language,  which  I  did  not  con- 
sider difficult.  My  friend  Fawcett  went  with  me  to  Ransom's  Bank, 
where  I  procured  my  letters  of  credit,  and  where  I  was  introduced  to 
Douglas  Kinnaird,  who  in  the  kindest  manner  gave  me  letters  to  his 
brother,  Lord  Kinnaird,  at  Naples,  and  to  Lord  Byron,  then  at  Pisa. 

1  From  the  Times,  May  29f/i,  1822. —  "Mr.  Macready  last  night  performed 
Othello  for  his  benefit,  an  undertaking  of  no  small  peril,  while  the  excellence  of- 
Mr.  Kean  in  the  character  is  fresh  in  the  public  mind.  Mr.  Macready,  however, 
without  any  imitation  of  Mr.  Kean,  and  without  disturbing  the  noble  impressions 
which  he  has  left  on  our  memory,  succeeded  in  giving  a  representation  of  the 
part,  abounding  with  individual  traits  of  grandeur  and  of  beauty,  and  forming 
altogether  a  consistent  and  harmonious  whole." 

From  the  Morning  Herald,  May  29«A,  1822. — "  Covent  Garden  Theater.— 
'  Othello  '  was  performed  at  this  theatre  last  night,  for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Macready. 
If  it  were  possible  that  Mr.  Macready  could  add  any  new  claim  to  public  favor, 
it  certainly  would  be  his  performance  of  Othello  last  night.  He  called  forth  all 
his  powers,  and  most  successfully,  to  personate  the  tinhappy  husband,  suspecting 
but  yet  'strongly  loving.'  It  would  be  difficult  to  select  any  part  of  the  perform- 
ance in  which  Mr.  Macready  excelled,  with  such  ability  and  such  a  just  conception 
did  he  sustain  the  whole,  which  frequently  called  forth  the  loudest  applause  from 
the  audience." 


172  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XV. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

1822.  —  Continental  tour  —  Paris  —  Mar;;,  Potier,  Duchesnois,  Talma,  Lafond, 
at  the  Theatre  Francats —  Dijon  —  Geneva  —  Lausanne  —  Villeneuve  —  St. 
Maurice  —  The  Simploti — Lago  Maggiore — Milan  —  Iron  Crown  at  Monza 
—  Verona  —  Tomb  of  Juliet  —  Vicenza —  Padua  —  Arqtia  —  Painful  pilgrim- 
age to  the  shrine  of  Petrarch  —  Venice  —  An  Italian  actor  —  Bologna. 

WITH  the  best  traveling  companions,  youth  and  good  spirits,  and 
the  enlivening  anticipations  of  a  world  of  beauty  before  me,  I  set  out 
on  my  journey.  At  Paris  I  quartered  at  the  Hotel  du  Prince  Regent, 
Rue  Ste.  Hyacinthe,  a  small  street  off  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  where  I 
found  a  quiet  and  moderate  table  d'hote,  and  all  necessary  aids  towards 
acquainting  myself  with  the  lions  of  the  French  capital,  of  which  the 
Louvre  was  my  principal  attraction,  part  of  almost  every  morning  be- 
ing spent  in  the  study  of  its  splendid  galleries.  Talma  was  ill,  and  ex- 
pressed his  regret  at  being  prevented  from  seeing  me.  I  visited  of 
course  the  theaters,  and  at  the  Fran9ais  witnessed  with  delight  the 
performances  of  the  charming  Mdlle.  Mars.  Her  voice  was  music,  and 
the  words  issuing  from  her  lips  suggested  to  the  listener  the  clear  dis- 
tinctness of  a  beautiful  type  upon  a  rich  vellum  page.  It  was  a  luxury 
to  the  ear  to  drink  in  the  "  dulcet  and  harmonious  breath  "  that  her 
utterance  of  the  poet  gave  forth.  Nor  was  her  voice  her  only  charm : 
in  person  she  was  most  lovely,  and  in  grace  and  elegance  of  deport- 
ment and  action  unapproached  by  any  of  her  contemporaries.  Potier 
was  the  favorite  comedian  of  the  day,  and  in  genuine  humor  was  un- 
rivaled either  on  the  French  or  English  stage.  Mdlle.  Duchesnois 
and  Lafond,  in  Voltaire's  tragedy  of  "  Alziue,"  furnished  the  best  ex- 
amples of  the  declamatory  style  of  the  French  school  of  acting  ;  but 
the  genius  of  Talma  (whom  I  saw  at  a  subsequent  period)  rose  above 
all  the  conventionality  of  schools.  Every  turn  and  movement  as  he 
trod  the  stage  might  have  given  a  model  for  the  sculptor's  art,  and 
yet  all  was  effected  with  such  apparent  absence  of  preparation  as  made 
him  seem  utterly  unconscious  of  the  dignified  and  graceful  attitudes  he 
presented.  His  voice  was  flexible  and  powerful,  and  his  delivery  ar- 
ticulate to  the  finest  point  without  a  trace  of  pedantry.  There  was  an 
ease  and  freedom,  whether  in  familiar  colloquy,  in  lofty  declamation,  or 
burst  of  passion,  that  gave  an  air  of  unpremeditation  to  every  sentence, 
one  of  the  highest  achievements  of  the  histrionic  art.  It  is  a  custom 
with  many  actors  purposely  to  reach  their  dressing-rooms  in  just  suffi- 
cient time  to  go  on  the  stage,  in  order  to  avoid  the  nervousness  which 
waiting  for  their  entrance  occasions.  But  Talma  would  dress  some 
time  before,  and  make  the  peculiarities  of  his  costume  familiar  to  him  ; 
at  the  same  time  that  he  thereby  possessed  himself  more  with  the  feel- 
ing of  his  character.  I  thought  the  practice  so  good,  that  I  frequently 
adopted  it,  and  derived  great  benefit  from  it.  His  object  was  not  to 
dazzle  or  surprise  by  isolated  effects  :  the  character  was  his  aim  ;  he 
put  on  the  man,  and  was  attentive  to  every  minutest  trait  that  might 


1822.  DIJON.  173 

* 

distinguish  him.  To  my  judgment  he  was  the  most  finished  artist  of 
his  time,  not  below  Kean  in  his  most  energetic  displays,  and  far  above 
him  in  the  refinement  of  his  taste  and  extent  of  his  research,  equaling 
Kemble  in  dignity,  unfettered  by  his  stiffness  and  formality. 

But  with  Italy  before  me,  I  grudged  each  day  that  detained  me  in 
Paris.  In  the  coupe  of  the  diligence,  with  my  Italian  grammar  and 
books  in  my  petit  sac,  at  which  I  was  constantly  working,  I  made 
my  way  to  Dijon,  and  from  thence  over  the  Jura  towards  Geneva. 
To  one  of  an  enthusiastic  temperament  keenly  alive  to  the  sublimity 
and  beauty  of  the  varying  scenes  that  rise  in  quick  succession  to  the 
view  throughout  this  picturesque  route,  this  journey  must  be  one  of 
rapture.  Few  incidents  occurred  .to  break  in  on  my  enjoyment  of  it. 
Some  posts  before  reaching  Dijon,  I  was  startled  about  midnight  out 
of  my  short  sleep  by  the  postilion  lashing  his  team  —  five  horses  — -- 
into  a  furious  gallop  down  a  short  and  rapid  descent  of  the  road,  and 
urging  their  speed  upward  on  the  opposite  steep  acclivity.  It  seems 
he  had  observed  in  the  moonlight  against  the  horizon  the  figures  of 
two  men  waiting  our  approach.  One  rushed  at  the  leaders,  the  other 
endeavored  to  lay  hold  of  the  wheeler's  reins :  the  first  encountered 
the  full  shock  of  the  galloping  horse,  which  sent  him  sprawling  on  the 
side  of  the  road,  stretched  out  on  his  back  like  a  spread  eagle ;  the 
other  followed  the  carriage  shouting  for  some  little  distance,  but  soon 
gave  up  the  pursuit.  I  inquired  of  my  companion  in  the  coupe  what 
was  the  matter,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised  at  his  brief  answer, 
"  Monsieur,  les  voleurs  ! "  a  most  extraordinary  attempt  of  two  men, 
apparently  armed  only  with  bludgeons,  upon  a  diligence  loaded  with 
passengers. 

At  Dijon,  where  I  spent  great  part  of  a  day  in  visiting  the  museum, 
the  cathedral,  and  other  churches,  we  changed  our  ponderous  dili- 
gence for  a  lighter  but  not  swifter  vehicle  drawn  by  three  horses. 
The  driver,  whose  short  whip  could  only  reach  the  haunches  of  the 
wheelers,  at  every  ascent  in  the  road  dismounted  to  fill  his  pockets 
with  stones  to  pelt  the  leader  of  his  unicorn  team,  who  showed  little 
sensibility  to  the  uncertain  aim  of  his  master's  projectiles.  Under 
such  charioteering  we  made,  as  may  be  supposed,  but  slow  progress  ; 
but  the  wild  grandeur  of  the  scenery  would  have  occupied  the  mind 
sufficiently  in  lingering  still  longer  amidst  the  Jura's  awe-inspiring 
masses  of  mountain,  rock,  and  wood.  We  all  alighted  to  make  a  foot 
descent  of  the  mountain  of  Gex  ;  one  of  my  fellow-travelers,  who  was 
walking  with  me  in  advance  of  the  rest  —  an  intelligent  gentlemanly 
man,  well  acquainted  with  the  road  —  requested  me  not  to  "  look  up  " 
until  he  gave  me  the  word.  I  did  not  well  understand  this,  but  on 
reaching  a  turn  of  the  hill,  where  the  road  opened  suddenly  over  an 
abrupt  cliff",  his  call  to  me  to  "  look  "  disclosed  to  me  a  prospect  that 
baffles  all  power  of  description :  the  valley  and  lake  of  Geneva  bound 
in  with  mountains  of  differing  forms  and  hues,  above  all  which  Mont 
Blanc  in  its  vesture  of  eternal  snow  rose  majestically  into  the  heavens. 
Moore's  lines  upon  this  wondrous  spectacle  of  loveliness  and  grandeur 


174  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XV. 

have  something  of  prettiness  in  them,  hut  the  idea  of  a  prettiness  is 
an  impertinence  before  such  a  glory  of  creation.  Wordsworth  observed 
to  me,  in  speaking  of  it,  that  he  did  not  think  there  was  on  earth 
another  view  so  gorgeously  beautiful.  The  feeling  of  entrancement 
into  which  it  wraps  us  as  we  gaze  upon  it,  is  not  inadequately  ex- 
pressed in  his  own  lines  descriptive  of  the  emotions  of  a  young  enthu- 
siast in  the  presence  of  Nature's  splendors  :  — 

"  Sound  needed  none, 
Nor  any  voice  of  joy  ;  his  spirit  drank 
The  spectacle.     Sensation,  sou],  and  form, 
All  melted  into  him  ;  they  swallowed  up 
His  animal  being. 

In  such  access  of  mind,  in  such  high  hour 
Of  visitation  from  the  living  God, 
Thought  was  not ;  in  enjoyment  it  expired.  • 

No  thanks  he  breathed,  he  proffered  no  request ; 
Wrapt  into  still  communion,  that  transcends 
The  imperfect  offices  of  prayer  and  praise. 
His  miud  was  a  thanksgiving  to  the  power 
That  made  him ;  it  was  blessedness  and  love." 

Under  a  charm  of  such  potency  we  resisted  as  long  as  we  could  our 
conductor's  remonstrances  at  our  delay,  and  would  gladly  have  pro- 
longed our  stay  to  impress,  if  possible,  every  feature  of  the  glorious 
scene  indelibly  on  our  memories  :  but  the  word  "En  route  "  was  per- 
emptory, and  we  were  obliged  to  resume  our  seats  in  the  carriage, 
which  in  a  short  time  deposited  us  at  our  hotels  in  Geneva.  Illness, 
the  consequence  of  my  own  imprudence,  left  me  little  time  at  my  own 
disposal,  and  in  my  hurried  visit  I  brought  away  the  distinct  remem- 
brance of  little  beyond  the  deep  blue  of  the  waters  of  the  Rhone  as 
they  rushed  out  of  the  lake,  seeming  in  their  depth  of  color  as  if  they 
would  tinge  with  their  own  tint  whatever  they  might  touch.  Forty 
years  have  passed  since  these  wanderings  were  made,  and  although  the 
objects  noted  in  them  present  themselves  in  wonderful  freshness  to  my 
memory's  sight,  yet  I  cannot  trust  my  pen  with  the  record  of  them 
here.  I  was  in  the  state  of  mind  and  the  season  of  life  to  investigate 
and  enjoy  ;  and,  wherever  I  went,  I  left  nothing  unobserved  that  I 
had  time  or  means  of  seeing.  A  few  hours  only  were  left  to  me  at 
Geneva,  where  I  proposed  to  return  ;  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the  next 
day  I  reached  Lausanne,  where  I  called  on  John  Kemble.  He  AV;IS 
reported  not  visible  till  the  next  morning.  I  wrote  a  few  lines  to 
him,  and  passed  the  evening  on  the  lake,  enjoying,  to  its  last  lingering 
light,  the  effect  of  the  most  splendid  sunset  I  ever  beheld. 

Next  day  my  course  was  through  Vevay,  where  I  had  not  time  to 
see  Ludlow's  house  by  the  Castle  of  Chillon,  to  Villeneuve,  and  on  to 
St.  Maurice,  through  a  vale  of  garden  beauty.  This  romantic  little 
town,  shut  in  by  overhanging  rocks  that  just  afford  a  passage  for  the 
rapid  Rhone,  crossed  by  a  curious  bridge,  the  construction  of  which  is 
ascribed  to  Caesar,  had  a  peculiar  attraction  for  me.  I  supped  and 
slept  here,  and  rose  early  for  my  onward  journey.  As  some  indication 


1822.  ST.  MAURICE— THE  SIMPLON.  175 

of  the  state  of  feeling  in  which  I  allowed  myself  to  indulge,  I  extract 
the  following  note  from  my  pocket-book,  dated  "  Sunday,  July  13th, 
1822.  St.  Maurice.  —  It  is  with  extreme  unwillingness  to  leave  this 
romantic  scenery  that  I  am  expecting  the  momentary  summons  for 
departure.  The  clock  has  not  yet  struck  four,  and  in  the  deep  gloom 
of  twilight,  with  only  the  wild  rock  to  look  on  that  rises  perpendicu- 
larly above  me,  deepening  the  uncertain  light  of  morning,  my  thoughts 
are  driven  back  upon  myself.  The  roar  of  the  rushing  Rhone,  softened 
by  distance  to  a  loud  but  not  unpleasing  murmur,  is  all  the  sound  that 
reaches  me  except  when  the  solitary  scream  of  some  bird  breaks  the 
profound  stillness.  It  is  here  that  my  heart  turns  back  with  fond 
yearnings  to  those  I  love,  to  those  I  live  for.  A  crowd  of  undefinable 
emotions  swell  and  seem  to  overcharge  my  bosom.  I  cannot  find 
words  for  what  I  feel.  It  is  not  happiness,  but  a  mixture  of  sensa- 
tions, that  I  think  to  a  better  tuned  mind  should  be  so.  What  do  I 
not  owe  of  gratitude  for  pleasure  in  scenes  like  these  ?  and  yet  there 
is  the  alloy  of  thinking,  when  I  bid  them  adieu,  as  I  now  prepare  to 
do,  that  I  utter  the  words  of  an  eternal  parting."  My  summons  was 
given,  and  by  Martigny  and  Sion  I  reached  the  poor  hotel  at  Brieg, 
where  at  the  Simplon's  foot  I  got  a  first  view  of  the  wonderful  road 
which  human  ingenuity  and  enterprise  have  constructed  over  what  to 
the  eye  would  seem  impassable. 

Before  daylight  I  was  up  to  accompany  my  cocchiere  with  his  post- 
wagon  over  the  mountain,  but  being  much  in  advance  of  him  I  had 
the  full  advantage  of  contemplating  alone  the  awful  in  nature  and  the 
wonderful  in  skill  and  energy  of  man  —  precipices,  glaciers,  cataracts, 
bridges,  buttresses,  and  galleries  holding  the  mind  in  a  subdued  state 
of  wonder  and  awe.  Unless  the  traveler  through  such  scenes  wrote 
down  a  minute"  account  of  each  particular  feature  in  them,  he  could 
convey  no  idea  of  any  resemblance :  no  general  terms  of  description 
would  leave  any  image  on  the  mind.  Our  rapid  course  down  the 
other  side  through  the  richest  forest  scenery  brought  us  to  Domo 
d'Ossola,  the  extreme  point  of  my  conductor's  journey.  Here  some 
young  Frenchmen  traveling  in  a  vettura,  having  learned  that  the 
banker  of  the  place  sought  to  impose  on  me  in  regard  to  his  charges 
on  my  letter  of  credit,  persuaded  me  to  come  on  with  them  to  Milan, 
to  which  city  the  velturino  would  frank  me,  paying  all  personal  ex- 
penses on  the  road,  to  be  reimbursed  at  our  journey's  end.  The 
bargain  was  made  with  the  vetturino  for  my  conveyance,  provisioning, 
and  lodging,  and  legally  ratified  by  his  gift  of  a  scudo  to  me  —  so  vary 
the  customs  of  countries.  Three  of  my  new  acquaintances  were 
young  men  belonging  to  the  French  bar,  very  gentlemanly,  very 
courteous,  lively,  and  agreeable.  The  name  of  one  was  More'au, 
another  Guillaume,  the  third  escaped  me ;  but  an  Italian,  whose  name 
I  have  also  forgotten,  was  known  among  us,  on  account  of  his  frequent 
reference  to  Rome  as  his  place  of  birth,  as  Monsieur  Jules  Cesar.  I 
accounted  myself  fortunate  in  companions,  who  very  much  assisted  me 
in  correcting  my  French,  whilst  Monsieur  Jules  Cesar  rendered  me 


176  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XV. 

good  help  in  my  study  of  Italian.  We  made  frequent  stoppages  for 
the  inspection  of  churches  or  paintings  in  them,  or  some  beauty  in  the 
landscape.  At  the  Lago  Maggiore  we  spent  the  greater  part  of  a  day 
visiting  the  Isola  dei  Pescatori,  a  very  dirty  little  island,  the  Isola 
Madre,.and  the  most  lovely  Isola  Bella  —  all  seemed  enchantment; 
we  were  in  a  region  of  romance,  which  Armida  might  have  made  her 
voluptuous  retreat,  or  the  Aladdins  and  Noureddins  of  Arabian  fable 
have  taken  in  exchange  for  the  palaces  and  gardens  of  Bagdad. 

On  our  outward  route  an  incident  occurred  that,  in  the  altered  feel- 
ings of  Italian  nationality,  could  scarcely,  one  would  hope,  happen 
now.  Our  driver  was  dozing  on  his  box  as  his  horses  went  sauntering 
along  the  dusty  road,  almost  as  sleepy  as  himself,  when  a  cart  with 
one  horse  was  driven  rapidly  past  us  by  a  man  in  a  peasant's  dress. 
Our  cocchiere,  instantly  waking  up,  lashed  his  team  into  a  half-gallop, 
and  soon  got  up  with  the  poor  carter,  whom  he  belabored  with  his 
whip  in  a  most  unmerciful  manner.  My  blood  was  on  fire  at  the 
oppressive  conduct  of  the  fellow,  who  thus  revenged  himself  for  the 
offended  dignity  of  his  more  aristocratic  vehicle.  I  was  loud  in  my 
exclamations  to  the  poor  carter ;  but  one  of  my  companions  coolly 
observed  :  "  Monsieur,  ils  ne  sont  pas  des  hommes  dans  ce  pays-ci !  " 
I  rejoice  in  the  belief,  that  since  that  day  a  true  sense  of  the  rights  and 
dignity  of  man  has  been  established  in  that  glorious  country. 

At  Milan  we  put  up  at  the  Croce  di  Malta,  where  our  landlord  paid 
the  expenses  of  my  journey  from  Domo  d'Ossola  and  installed  me  in 
most  comfortable  airy  apartments.  A  very  specious,  glibly-speaking 
fellow  came  up  to  my  rooms,  and  with  many  bows  and  simpers  re- 
minded me  that  I  had  left  my  hat-box  in  the  carriage,  which  he  had 
brought  up  to  me,  hoping  I  would  remember  him.  I  gave  the  rascal 
a  franc,  and  was  not  likely  to  forget  him,  finding  on  opening  the  box 
that  he  had  abstracted  my  traveling-cap  from  it.  "  So,"  thought  I, 
"begins  my  Italian  experience."  In  Milan  there  was  very  much  to 
see.  I  was  up  at  four  in  the  morning  and  at  the  Duomo,  that  most 
magnificent  pile,  by  five.  I  underwent  here  a  curious  experience.  At 
home  I  never  could  keep  my  head  from  giddiness  at  any  unusual  point 
of  elevation.  Here,  after  a  careful  examination  of  the  interior,  I  de- 
scended to  the  superbly  decorated  shrine  of  San  Carlo  Borromeo,  in 
wonder  at  the  superstition  that  invests  it  with  a  power  of  sanctity, 
:uid  from  thence,  at  my  cicerone's  invitation,  went  np  to  the  roof  of  the 
building.  So  far  advanced,  I  thought  I  would  venture  to  the  next 
stage ;  I  was  again  tempted  to  the  next,  and  so  on,  up  and  up,  until  I 
found  myself  at  the  very  top  of  the  highest  pinnacle,  commanding  a 
prospect  on  one  side  of  the  distant  Alps,  and  the  rich  plains  of  Lom- 
hurdy  stretched  out  upon  the  other.  Among  the  many  objects  that 
attracted  my  attention  in  Milan  were  the  Ambrosian  Library ;  the 
famous  fresco  of  the  Last  Supper,  by  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  now  nearly 
obliterated,  but  restored  to  life  by  the  burin  of  Raphael  Morghen  ; 
the  gallery  of  the  Brera,  containing,  among  many  masterpieces  the 
Sposalizio  of  Raphael  and  the  affecting  picture  by  Guercino  of  the 


1822.  IKON  CROWN  AT  MONZA.  177 

expuls.on  of  Ilagar  and  Ishmael.  The  grand  theater,  La  Scala,  was 
degraded  by  the  performance  of  a  grotesque  ballet,  but  at  the  Carcauo 
some  very  creditable  pieces  were  presented.  I  accompanied  my  French 
friends  in  their  drives  on  the  Corso  to  the  different  trattorias  and 
tables  d'hote  to  which  they  resorted  in  search  of  the  best  and  most 
moderate  dining-houses  —  how  different  from  Englishmen  ! 

After  some  days  we  parted  company,  two  of  them,  Guillaume  and 
his  friend,  returning  by  Switzerland,  and  Moreau  taking,  as  far  as 
Florence,  the  line  of  march  that  lay  before  me.  On  their  departure  I 
joined  the  table  d'hote  at  my  hotel,  filled  chiefly  by  my  own  country- 
men, among  whom  I  formed  some  pleasant  acquaintances,  and  one 
steady  and  valued  friendship  in  the  person  of  the  lamented  Dowling. 
By  application  to  some  officials  I  obtained  an  order  to  see  the  Iron 
Crown  at  Monza,  and  drove  over  there  (two  miles)  for  the  purpose. 
On  reaching  the  Cathedral  where  this  treasure  or  talisman  is  deposited, 
I  was  met  by  a  young  priest,  who  announced  to  me  that  I  was  waited 
for  (notice  having  been  forwarded  from  Milan  of  the  permission 
granted),  and  approaching  the  shrine  in  a  chapel  to  the  right  of  the 
high  altar  I  found  four  others  with  incense  ready.  A  man  (lay)  had 
mounted  a  ladder,  and  stood  on  it  before  a  door  in  the  wall  over  the 
altar  of  the  chapel ;  unlocking  it,  another  of  brass  richly  gilt  was  seen 
within,  behind  this  again  was  a  glass  one  containing  the  treasure  en- 
cased in  a  large  gilded  cross.  Upon  its  disclosure  the  priest  diffused 
the  smoke  of  the  incense  very  profusely,  making  several  genuflexions. 
Two  of  the  priests  then  ascended  the  ladder,  and  with  the  necessary 
bendings  and  courtesyings  proceeded  to  take  out  the  cross,  several  feet 
in  length,  which  was  richly  carved  and  had  six  apertures  glazed  over, 
within  which  (the  Iron  Crown  in  the  center)  were  the  various  relics, 
sponge,  reed,  thorns,  etc.,  believed  to  have  been  used  at  the  Cruci- 
fixion. The  Iron  Crown,  or  rather  the  diadem  so  called,  is  not  iron, 
but  a  band  of  gold  plates  connected  together  by  hinges  and  orna- 
mented with  gems  :  in  its  center  is  a  glazed  aperture,  in  which  is  seen 
an  iron  nail  supposed  to  be  one  of  those  that  pierced  the  Saviour,  from 
which  it  has  gained  the  name  of  the  "  Iron  Crown."  The  chief  priest, 
after  pointing  out  and  descanting  on  these  invaluable  relics,  recon- 
signed  the  cross  to  the  care  of  the  officiating  subordinates,  who  de- 
posited it  beneath  its  threefold  guard  again.  On  requesting  him  to 
inform  me  in  Latin  how  these  precious  memorials  came  to  light,  after 
some  hesitation  he  made  out  his  story  that  St.  Helena  had  been  di- 
rected by  the  Almighty  to  seek  for  them,  and  that  on  finding  them  in 
a  cave  near  Jerusalem,  she  had  distributed  portions  of  them,  giving  a 
large  share  to  St.  Gregory,  who  had  presented  these,  the  most  valuable, 
to  this  church.  The  crown  was  said  to  have  been  Constantine's.  It 
was  no  doubt  used  by  the  Lombard  Kings,  and  might  have  been  fab- 
ricated for  the  Roman  Emperor.  Certainly  Charles  V.  testified  his 
faith  in  it  by  being  crowned  with  it  at  Bologna,  but  I  scarcely  thought 
this  piece  of  antiquity  with  all  its  guarantees  worth  the  journey  and 
the  fee  it  cost  me. 

12 


178  NACRE ADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XV. 

The  remainder  of  my  stay  at  Milan  was  busily  engaged  with 
churches,  palaces,  and  other  objects  of  interest  in  this  noble  city,  and 
it  was  with  great  regret  I  turned  my  back  upon  it,  taking  the  diligence 
to  Brescia.  But  before  my  departure  I  received  a  very  kind  letter 
from  my  late  fellow-traveler,  Moreau,  dated  Venice,  recommending 
me  a  good  hotel  there,  and  promising  to  apprise  me,  throughout  my 
route  as  I  proceeded  to  Florence,  of  the  best  modes  of  travel  and 
houses  of  resort.  At  Brescia  I  could  not  extend  my  stay  beyond  a 
few  hours,  wishing  to  reach  Verona  before  night-fall.  On  my  journey 
there  the  continued  cloud  of  dust  obscured  every  object  (if  there  were 
any)  worth  notice  except  the  Lago  di  Guarda,  of  which  I  had  frequent 
and  satisfactory  views.  It  reminded  me  of  the  Scotch  Lakes,  to  which, 
except  in  the  luxuriance  of  its  southern  banks,  I  do  not  think  it  supe- 
rior :  but  that  doubt  is  no  mean  eulogy.  The  fort  of  Peschiera  also 
struck  me  —  as  the  comparison  must  every  one  —  between  the  grace- 
ful bendings  and  winding  outlines  of  nature  with  the  sharp  angles  and 
straight  lines  of  military  science :  besides,  it  was  a  fetter  on  the  mount- 
ain-spirit—  for  oppression,  not  for  protection. 

On  approaching  Verona  my  ruminations  led  me  more  to  the  crea- 
tions of  Shakespeare's  genius,  than  to  the  sterner  characters  associated 
with  its  history.  As  I  entered  the  city,  admiring  the  rapid  course  of 
the  roaring  Adige,  the  thought  first  on  rny  mind  was  that  she,  "  the 
true  and  faithful  Juliet "  and  he  she  loved,  had  looked  on  the  same 
stream  and  trod  the  same  steps.  I  passed  through  handsome  streets 
and  over  a  singular  bridge  of  three  arches  to  my  inn,  from  whence, 
when  I  had  emerged  from  the  cloud  of  dust  that,  in  uncasing  myself, 
I  shook  out  of  my  clothes,  I  set  out  to  look  around  me.  I  entered  the 
Cathedral,  and  saw  the  Assumption  of  Titian  (not  like  that  I  after- 
wards beheld  at  Venice).  But  I  have  seen  so  many  churches  and 
such  richly-adorned  ones,  that  the  interest  in  them  grows  more  and 
more  languid.  An  extraordinary  statue  by  the  father  of  Paul  Vero- 
nese caught  my  attention,  the  dusk  preventing  my  close  inspection  of 
the  paintings.  In  taking  a  survey  from  the  bridge  of  the  hill  opposite, 
the  old  citadel,  the  floating  mills  upon  the  river,  and  the  antique  build- 
ings of  the  city,  Shakespeare  was  ever  present  to  me.  My  valet  de 
place  directed  me  to  the  Amphitheater,  and  with  a  kind  of  moody  pleas- 
ure I  entered  through  the  porches,  where  Romans  had  been  of  old,  to 
see  their  degenerate  successors  occupying  its  seats  to  laugh  at  the 
buffoonery  of  some  Italian  players  who  were  exhibiting  in  a  temporary 
theater  by  daylight.  I  lingered  here  until  the  deepening  shadows 
warned  me  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  and  the  solitude  of  the  place : 
for  all  were  gone  but  my  guide  and  myself.  I  examined  the  vomito- 
ries and  the  imperial  entrance ;  I  looked  at  the  canal  for  the  nauma- 
chia  and  sauntered  slowly  away,  wrapped  in  meditation  on  the  capacity 
of  man  and  his  abuse  of  it.  Napoleon  had  been  in  triumph  there : 
but  the  thought  of  him  was  a  small  item  among  the  throng  of  imagi- 
nations that  such  a  scene  would  evoke.  Leaving  it  in  the  twilight,  I 
saw  the  tombs  of  the  Scaligeri ;  the  hall  of  council,  with  the  statues 


1822.  JULIETS  TOMB.  179 

of  Maffei,  Vitruvius,  and  other  Veronese  worthies  ;  the  market-place, 
with  the  antique  statue  in  the  fountain,  and  the  intended  palace  of  the 
republic  from  the  designs  of  Michael  Angelo. 

But  no  place  was  free  from  the  intrusion  of  visions  of  the  Capuletti 
and  Montecchi,  and  the  beautiful  story  that  grew  out  of  their  disturb- 
ance of  "  the  quiet  of  the  streets."  It  was  night,  when  I  desired  the 
guide  to  take  me  direct  to  Juliet's  tomb.  Our  long  walk  had  disin- 
clined him  for  the  visit,  and  he  would  have  dissuaded  me  from  going, 
insisting  that  it  was  nothing  to  see ;  to  me  it  was  all,  it  gave  an  inter- 
est to  every  step  I  took  and  every  house  I  passed.  My  enthusiasm 
must  have  warmed  into  something  like  anger  by  the  tone  in  which  I 
ordered  him  to  proceed.  We  traversed  several  streets,  passed  under 
the  wall  of  the  old  citadel,  and  at  last  emerging  from  a  low  and  dark 
archway  of  some  length,  pursued  our  course  through  a  lane  between 
two  high  garden  walls.  The  luxuriant  foliage  from  one  side  at  times 
quite  overshadowed  our  path ;  and  the  brightness  of  the  moon,  which 
piercing  through  the  drooping  boughs,  at  intervals  shone  upon  us, 
deepened  by  the  darkness  of  the  shade.  Another  lane  exactly  similar, 
into  which  we  turned,  brought  us  to  the  cottage  door,  the  object  of  our 
quest.  An  old  woman  answered  to  our  knocking,  and  led  us  by  the 
light  of  a  "  lanthorn  dimly  burning  "  through  her  miserable  habitation, 
our  steps  ringing  on  the  hollow  floor,  into  the  garden  or  vineyard  be- 
yond. The  splendor  of  the  moon,  that  shone  bright  in  heaven,  pene- 
trated the  interstices  of  the  vine  leaves  that  were  thickly  roofed  in 
trellis  over  our  heads.  The  roaring  of  the  Adige  alone  broke  the 
silence  of  the  night,  which  was  calm  as  if  there  were  one  rest  in  heaven 
and  earth  ;  not  a  leaf  stirred  near  us,  and  the  slow  footfall  of  our  steps 
was  heard  in  clear  distinctness.  The  old  woman  stopped  and  held  her 
lantern  over  a  broken  stone  coffin,  said  to  have  been  the  tomb  of  her 
who  has  become  a  proverb  of  loveliness  and  truth.  The  place  had 
been  formerly  the  garden  of  a  Franciscan  convent,  but  my  guide  is 
responsible  for  my  correctness.  It  may  be  —  I  dare  say,  is  —  fabu- 
lous, but  yet  the  delusion  was  too  pleasing  to  be  admitted  such.  I  be- 
lieved that  I  saw  before  me  the  sepulchre  of  her  whom  Shakespeare 
has  taught  us  to  picture  as  one  of  the  fairest  and  the  best,  the  gentlest 
and  truest,  of  her  sex.  In  the  study  of  my  art  I  had  often  drawn  to 
my  fancy  the  image  of  her  beauty,  and  now  I  stood  like  a  fond  and 
credulous  pilgrim  before  her  shrine,  whose  imaginary  perfections  had 
filled  his  early  visions  with  delight  and  love.  I  drew  my  slow  steps 
with  reluctance  from  the  spot,  and  when  outside  the  cottage,  as  I  stood 
in  the  broad  moonlight,  looking  on  the  bright  planet  in  full  pure  glory 
above,  me,  I  thought  that  so  she  must  have  looked,  when  the  love-sick 
boy  invoked  her  beams  in  attestations  of  his  truth.  I  would  rather  have 
missed  ten  galleries  of  pictures  than  this  one  hour  of  dreamy,  idle  mus- 
ing. 

The  next  morning  I  rose  at  point  of  day  to  leave  Verona.  I  took 
a  last  glance  at  the  Amphitheater,  as  the  carriage  wound  round  it,  and 
looked  with  regret  on  the  rapid  Adige,  as  we  passed  over  it  for  Vi- 


180  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XV. 

cenza.  The  rich  fertility  of  the  landscape  awoke  most  pleasing  asso- 
ciations. The  vines  hung  gracefully  iu  festoons  from  tree  to  tree, 
clustering  and  disporting,  reminded  ine  of  Virgil's  rural  scenes.  The 
emotions  excited  by  this  continued  succession  of  interesting  objects 
presented  to  my  sight,  of  those  transcendent  in  art  and  in  the  glories 
of  nature,  almost  bewilder  the  mind,  preventing  its  sober  self-exami- 
nation :  but  they  leave  ineffaceable  images  behind,  which,  though  pass- 
ing from  the  view,  are  stored  up  — treasures  of  memory  that  time  can- 
not take  from  me. 

My  hours  were  few  at  Vicenza,  where,  as  in  all  the  Italian  cities, 
churches  and  palaces  abounded,  enriched  with  the  works  of  the  great 
masters  that  make  constant  demand  on  the  industrious  attention  of  the 
traveler ;  and  to  these  I  never  failed  to  apply  myself  with  unweary- 
ing diligence.  But  the  name  most  in  the  mouths  of  the  ciceroni  of 
this  city  is  that  of  Palladio,  who  has  embellished  his  birthplace  with 
monuments  of  his  art,  that  justify  the  pride  with  which  his  name  is 
cherished.  Among  these  the  Teatro  Olimpico,  designed  as  a  model 
theater  for  the  ancient  drama,  is  regarded  as  his  masterpiece.  It  in- 
terested me  ;  but  I  am  not  a  sufficient  connoisseur  in  architecture 
thoroughly  to  appreciate  its  acknowledged  excellence.  In  Padua  I 
made  a  longer  stay,  visiting  under  conduct  of  a  valet  de  place  the  dif- 
ferent churches,  where  the  works  of  Giotto,  Titian,  Paul  Veronese, 
etc.,  are  conspicuous.  Of  the  old  Amphitheater  there  is  little  to  re- 
mark beyond  its  site.  The  monument  at  Liruj,  and  the  tomb,  said  to 
be  of  Antenor,  could  not  fail  to  be  noted  by  me.  The  many  objects 
of  art,  architectural  (for  here  Palladio  has  extended  his  triumphs), 
sculptural,  and  pictorial,  employed  all  my  daylight ;  but  the  fatigue  of 
my  perambulations  did  not  prevent  me  from  attending  the  theater  in 
the  evening,  which,  even  after  the  Scala,  I  thought  magnificent.  The 
performance  was  an  opera.  I  did  not  learn  its  title,  nor  remain  to  its 
close,  what  I  saw  of  it  impressing  me  but  very  feebly.  Before  how- 
ever going  there,  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  make  provision  for  my 
projected  visit  to  Arqua  on  the  morrow :  a  sojourn  in  Padua,  although 
rich  in  recollections,  would  have  appeared  incomplete  to  me  if  it  had 
not  comprehended  Arqua.  The  lines  of  the  noble  eulogist  are  familiar 
to  all  lovers  of  poetry  : 

"  There  is  a  tomb  in  Arqua  :  rear'd  in  air, 

Pillar'cl  in  their  sarcophagus,  repose 
Tlic  bones  of  Laura's  lover  ;  here  repair 

Many  familiar  with  his  well-sung  woes, 
The  pilgrims  of  his  genius." 

My  visit  there  had  all  the  penance  in  it  that  a  pilgrim  could  desire, 
and  certainly  was  the  most  unsentimental  of  any  excursion  I  have 
ever  made.  I  had  had  reason  in  so  many  instances  to  complain  of 
the  extortion  practiced  on  me  at  the  hotels  that  I  thought  the  best 
mode  of  securing  myself  from  imposition  on  this  occasion  was  to  be 
my  own  purveyor  for  the  next  day's  carriage.  Accordingly,  I  made 
inquiry  respecting  the  hire  at  the  best  stables  in  the  city.  The  rogues 


1822.  ARQUA.  181 

there  took  their  cue  from  my  foreign  accent,  and  being  proportionately 
exorbitant  in  their  charges,  so  raised  my  choler  as  to  make  me  exhaust 
what  I  knew  of  the  abusive  in  the  Italian  vocabulary  in  expressing 
my  indignation  at  their  unblushing  demands.  At  last  a  quiet  and 
seemingly  simple  fellow  agreed  to  take  me  and  replace  me  in  my 
locanda  for  eight  francs.  I  inquired  of  his  carriage.  Pointing  to 
some  standing  near  that  I  had  rejected,  "  These,"  I  observed,  "  are 
too  shabby :  is  it  better  than  any  of  these  ? "  Confidently,  he  re- 
plied, "O  Corpo  di  San  Tomaso,  molto  piu  bella!"  "And  the 
horse  ! "  "  Eccellente  !  "  "  Shall  we  go  quick  ?  "  "  Prestissima- 
mente  !  "  "  Safe ! "  "  Sicuro !  "  "  At  5  o'clock  ?  "  "  Senza  dubbio." 
"  The  horse  is  really  good  ?  "  "  Buonissimo  !  "  All  was,  as  I  thought, 
most  satisfactorily  arranged,  and  with  the  early  morning  I  rose  from 
a  very  uncomfortable  bed  in  my  very  uncomfortable  inn,  delighted 
with  the  idea  of  breathing  the  fresh  morning  air  in  a  neat  and  spruce 
conveyance  and  pacing  merrily  over  the  campaign  to  Arqua. 

The  vettura  was  announced.  I  was  equipped  and  eager  for  the  ex- 
pedition. Full  of  Petrarch  and  Laura,  my  imagination  reveling  in 
ideas  of  the  beautiful  and  ardent,  the  sensitive  and  romantic,  I  de- 
scended, but  stopped  short  at  the  door.  A  carriage  was  there  cer- 
tainly, which  I  looked  at,  quite  aghast.  It  was  a  rotten,  shattered  old 
gig  or  tim-whisky,  it  had  no  springs,  and,  though  corded  up  in  several 
places,  seemed  incapable  of  surviving  the  shock  of  starting.  It  looked 
as  if  it  had  been  discharged  some  mouths  from  hospital  service,  and 
left  to  die  a  natural  death  by  rotting  away  on  some  dunghill  out  of 
which  this  rascal  must  have  picked  it.  The  horse  was  not  unworthy 
of  what  he  was  tied  to.  "  Is  this  the  carriage  ? "  in  consternation  I 
asked.  "  Sicuro,  signor."  There  was  no  alternative  —  into  it  I  got, 
my  nerves  responding  to  the  creaking  and  trembling  of  the  rickety 
affair.  My  conduttore  followed ;  he  was  a  compound  of  villainous 
smells,  from  which  I  partially  defended  myself  with  eau-de-cologne. 
We  made  our  way  through  two  or  three  streets,  and  had  just  entered 
a  deeply  dusty  road,  running  parallel  with  the  ramparts  and  leading  to 
the  city  gate,  when  the  horse  tripped  and  made  a  complete  somersault 
clean  out  of  the  shafts,  bursting  the  harness  in  sundry  places.  The 
driver  raised  the  rascally  animal,  and  replacing  him  between  the 
shafts,  we  resumed  our  seats,  when  he  began  kicking  as  if  some 
spirit  of  evil  were  in  him,  and  never  rested  till  he  had  sent  the  foot- 
board in  the  air  and  both  of  us  into  the  dusty  road.  "  Corpo  di  San 
Tomaso  !  "  exclaimed  the  driver,  "  e  una  disgrazia  !  "  Muttering  all 
terms  of  abuse  in  my  own  language,  I  resigned  myself  to  my  destiny. 
A  cord  mended  the  broken  tackle,  and  we  once  more  ventured  our- 
selves in  the  vehicle,  but  to  little  purpose  ;  we  were  kicked  out  by  this 
vicious  brute  on  an  average  every  mile  and  a  half,  until  we  reached 
the  foot  of  the  hill  leading  to  Arqua.  At  every  ejectment  that  we 
endured  from  this  detestable  beast,  the  conduttore  adjured  the  body  of 
his  patron  saint,  San  Toraaso  di  Padova,  as  he  himself  informed  me. 
"  Is  he  a  good  one  ?  "  I  inquired.  "  O,  buonissimo,"  he  replied,  "  the 
best  in  all  Padua." 


182  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CUAP.  XV. 

The  level  country  through  which  we  passed  was  rich,  but  not  par- 
ticularly interesting :  as  we  entered  the  hilly  region,  the  beauty  of 
Italian  scenery,  in  all  its  mixture  of  fertility  and  wildness,  of  luxuri- 
ance and  sublimity,  broke  upon  our  view.  "  Grazie  a  San  Tomaso," 
for  our  safe  delivery,  was  my  silent  thought,  as  we  finished  our  outward- 
bound  course.  I  left  my  fellow-sufferer  to  busy  himself  with  the  re- 
pairs of  harness  and  carriage  and  to  feed  his  ill-tempered  brute,  that 
he  might  have  spirit  enough  to  kick  us  back  again  to  Padua.  A  very 
intelligent  boy,  whom  I  selected  from  the  swarm  of  ragged  urchins 
that  volunteered  their  services  as  ciceroni,  conducted  me  up  the  hill  to- 
the  house  of  Petrarch.  I  followed  him  from  room  to  room  with  all 
the  veneration  which  the  laureled  genius  exacted,  saw  his  chair  and 
secretaire,  and  added  my  name  to  the  long  list  of  pilgrims  (none  had 
more  justly  earned  that  title  than  myself)  who  were  enrolled  in  the 
record  of  his  admirers.  I  passed  on  to  his  tomb,  close  to  the  small 
church  of  Arqua  —  a  simple,  square,  unostentatious  monument  on 
steps,  with  four  pillars  supporting  a  stone  sarcophagus.  The  following 
lines  I  hastily  copied  into  my  pocket-book  : 

"  Frigida,  Francisci  lapis  hie  tegit  ossa  Petrarcae, 
Suscipe,  virgo  parens,  animam,  sate  virgine,  parce  : 
Fessaque  jam  terris,  cceli  requiescat  in  arce. 

"  MCCCLXXIIII.    XVIII.    JULII."1 

Four  laurel-trees  in  full  berry  grew,  one  at  each  corner,  over-shadow- 
ing and  adorning  with  most  appropriate  gracefulness  the  modest  inter- 
esting structure.  The  view  over  the  far  outspreading  plains  of  Lom- 
bardy  was  most  extensive,  lost  in  the  seemingly  interminable  expanse 
of  luxuriant  vegetation,  which  contrasted  well  with  the  less  fertile 
summits  of  the  hills  around  me.  The  grandeur  of  the  landscape,  but 
still  more  the  name  and  remains  of  Petrarch,  are  all  that  give  interest 
to  this  secluded  spot.  Plucking  a  small  branch  from  one  of  the  lau- 
rels, the  withered  remains  of  which  I  still  possess,  I  re-ascended  the 
crazy,  freshly  corded  vehicle  to  go  through  again  the  same  set  of  ma- 
neuvers that  the  fractious  brute  had  made  us  undergo  in  our  journey 
here.  Seven  times  was  I  served  with  notice  to  quit  from  the  heels  of 
this  restive  animal,  and,  as  a  pleasant  finish  to  this  eventful  history, 
my  perfumed  guide  on  regaining  Padua  drove  me,  covered  with  dust 
and  perspiring  with  exertion,  passion,  and  shame  at  my  appearance, 
through  the  principal  streets,  crowded  with  the  gayly-dressed  inhabi- 
tants, who  were  flocking,  to  the  sound  of  the  Sunday  morning's  bell 
then  tolling,  to  morning  mass.  My  green  spectacles  and  the  conviction 
that  no  one  knew  me  from  Beau  Brummell  or  the  Emperor  Alexander 
incog.,  enabled  my  mauvaise  honte  to  endure  this  concluding  trial ;  but, 
oh  !  the  relief  in  jumping  out  of  this  antediluvian  piece  of  patchwork 

1  Under  this  stone  the  bones  of  Petrarch  rest ; 
Virgin  Mother,  receive  his  soul ; 
Son  of  the  Virgin,  make  him  whole, 
That,  weary  here,  he  may  with  God  be  blest. 

*  18th  July,  1374.  ED.  TKANS. 


1822.  VENICE.  183 

in  the  yard  of  my  albergo  is  indescribable !  I  paid  the  rascal  who  had 
trapped  me  into  this  purgatorial  expedition  ;  gave  him,  his  horse,  and 
San  Tomaso  di  Padova  to  Old  Nick  ;  and,  ordering  a  more  respectable 
vettura  for  Fusina,  by  ablution  and  libation  washed  away  all  unpleas- 
ant recollections  of  my  poetical  pilgrimage,  and  in  a  less  desperate 
machine  set  out  on  my  route  to  Venice. 

The  thick  grass  which  overgrew  the  pavement  of  the  last  street  be- 
fore the  gate  of  Omnium  Sanctorum  was  a  sad  remembrance  of  the 
"revolution  of  the  times,"  —  an  eloquent,  mournful  indication  of  de- 
clension and  decay.  It  was  otherwise,  I  thought,  when  the  noble  con- 
tended for  the  independence  of  his  little  principality,  or  when  Padua 
was  the  home  of  learning,  the  popular  resort  of  the  wise  and  the  am- 
bitious. The  ride  along  the  Brenta's  banks,  studded  with  villas  and 
villages,  in  which  were  groups  of  holiday  keepers  obstreperous  in  their 
noisy  mirth,  brought  me  to  Fusina,  the  place  of  embarkation  in  gon- 
dola for  Venice.  This  was  the  only  mode  of  reaching  it :  there  were 
no  railways  then  ;  and  I  believe  in  the  whole  world  there  was  no  city 
that  offered  to  the  traveler's  approval  a  spectacle  so  imposing  as  that 
of  Venice.  Her  peculiarity  of  situation  has  been  so  often  descanted 
on  that  it  may  be  supposed  familiar  to  every  imagination,  although  no 
description  can  do  justice  to  the  startling  reality,  or  weaken  the  crowd- 
ing sensations  that  swell  the  enthusiast's  bosom  as  his  gondola  glides 
from  between  the  high  banks  of  the  narrow  Brenta  upon  the  widely- 
spreading  surface  of  the  Adriatic,  and  the  scene  of  wonder  bursts  upon 
his  sight.  The  setting  sun  poured  its  last  beams  of  ruddy  light  upon 
the  majestic  city  of  the  sea,  that  rose  like  some  fabled  work  of  enchant- 
ment from  the  bosom  of  the  subject  flood.  The  blue  summits  of  the 
distant  Alps  on  one  side,  and  the  scattered  islands  on  the  other,  closed 
in  the  fairy  prospect.  There  was  scarcely  a  ripple  on  the  glittering 
waters,  nor  a  sound  in  the  air  except  the  far-off'  tolling  of  the  vesper 
bells,  that  came  sadly  and  slowly  booming  over  the  expanse.  If  "  the 
pale  moonlight"  be  in  appropriate  tone  to  the  moldering  grandeur 
of  a  Gothic  ruin,  the  hour  of  sunset  does  not  less  truly  harmonize 
with  the  decaying  magnificence  of  a  capital  like  Venice.  She  still 
sits  like  a  queen  indeed  upon  her  watery  throne,  but  it  is  in  "  faded 
splendor  wan."  Her  edifices  and  public  places  are  monuments ;  no 
single  object  speaks  of  recent  achievement.  Her  spoils  from  Constan- 
tinople, and  her  trophies  set  up  on  the  conquests  of  Cyprus,  Crete, 
and  Rhodes,  still  stand  in  reproach  of  her  degenerate  sons,  for  the 
tributary  nations  no  longer  pay  her  homage,  and  the  Moslem  "  hath 
broken  the  crown  of  her  head." 

At  the  hotel  which  Moreau  had  recommended  I  found  good  apart- 
ments, and,  having  engaged  the  services  of  a  valet  de  place,  desired 
him  to  conduct  me  to  St.  Mark's.  "We  traversed  the  narrow  lanes 
leading  to  the  Piazza,  jostling  the  busy  crowd  that  was  hurrying  on, 
earnestness  in  every  face,  and  importance  in  every  voice  that  gabbled 
by  us.  "When  at  the  outside  of  the  Piazza,  I  dismissed  my  servant  for 
the  night,  and,  passing  on  beneath  the  dark  arches,  emerged  upon  the 


184  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XV. 

interesting  scene.  The  grand  fantastic  facade  of  the  church  of  St. 
Mark  spread  out  its  majestic  grandeur  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
square :  the  Campanile  pointed  its  darkly-shadowed  spire  to  the  clear 
deep  blue  above,  which  was  richly  set  with  stars;  the  uniform  archi- 
tecture of  the  square  was  distinctly  visible  in  the  evening's  light ;  and 
in  the  illumination  of  the  shops  and  cafes ,  all  of  which  were  lit  up, 
and  displayed  in  almost  daylight  distinctness  the  many,  many  groups, 
the  crowds  of  persons  engaged  in  conversation,  promenading  up  and 
down  the  more  vacant  spaces,  or  thronging  round  the  military  band 
who,  with  their  music-stands  fixed  in  a  large  circle,  were  playing  the 
most  charming  airs.  I  was  alone  in  this,  to  me,  novel  scene  of  splen- 
dor, luxury,  and  beauty.  The  glories  of  the  night  above  were  again 
reflected  in  the  sleeping  waters  of  the  Adriatic.  The  thought  that  I 
was  indeed  in  Venice  was  itself  a  delight  to  me :  Venice,  the  frequent 
vision  of  my  youthful  fancy,  peopled  with  the  grand  and  terrible  reali- 
ties of  history  and  the  glorious  and  touching  fictions  of  romance  and 
poetry.  It  was  a  sort  of  spiritual  intoxication  I  experienced,  yet,  with 
every  sense  thus  gratified,  there  was  a  strange  overcast  of  melancholy 
in  the  thought  that  this  enjoyment  was  so  soon  to  end  and  never  again 
to  be  renewed. 

My  time  in  Venice,  limited  to  one  short  week,  was  thriftily  employed. 
Here,  as  in  every  city  throughout  my  tour,  I  gave  one  or  two  hours  a 
day  to  a  tutor  engaged  to  assist  me  in  my  study  of  the  language,  with 
which  I  very  soon  grew  familiar.  The  rest  of  the  day  was  spent 
among  the  splendid  works  of  art  that  court  inspection  in  the  galleries, 
churches,  and  palaces  adorning  this  singular  city,  that  begin  their  date 
with  the  Horses  of  Lysippus,  and,  satiating  the  entranced  spectator 
with  the  masterpieces  of  Titian,  Tintoretto,  Veronese,  etc.,  come  down 
to  the  Hebe  of  Canova l  on  view  in  the  Grimani  Palace.  In  Byron's 
words  I  was  "  dazzled  and  drunk  with  beauty,"  and  moving  as  in  a 
dream  made  up  of  memories  and,  associations.  The  creations  of 
Shakespeare  rose  up  before  me  on  the  Rialto ;  and  the  Hall  of  Coun- 
cil, indeed,  haunted  me  at  every  step  The  tombs  of  the  Doges,  the 
Giant's  Staircase,  the  Place  of  the  Lion's  Mouth,  the  Bridge  of  Sighs, 
the  dark  curtain  inscribed  with  Faliero's  doom,  recalled  the  tales  of 
suffering  that  historians  have  recorded  and  poets  have  intensified.  I 
neglected  nothing  that  untiring  industry  enabled  me  to  see  ;  the  luxu- 
rious cushions  of  my  gondola  affording  me  repose  and  amusement  in 
my  transit  from  place  to  place. 

There  was  only  one  theater  then  open,  and  some  of  my  evenings 
were  passed  there.  The  building  was  neither  spacious  nor  handsome ; 
the  performances  not  of  a  very  high  order.  One  evening  there  was  a 
translation  or,  I  should  rather  say,  an  adaptation  of  Sheridan's  "  School 
for  Scandal,"  in  which  an  English  play-goer  would  have  found  difficulty 
in  recognizing  the  original.  In  a  kind  of  romantic  drama,  reminding 
me  in  some  scenes  of  the  beautiful  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  and 

1  The  news  of  Canova's  death  arrived  while  I  was  in  Venice.  I  had  a  letter  of 
introduction  to  him  and  hoped  to  see  him  in  Uome. 


1822.  ITALIAN  ACTING.  185 

in  others  of  Schiller's  "  Robbers,"  there  was  much  power.  It  was  tol- 
erably acted  and  vehemently  applauded.  The  chief  actor,  a  young 
and  well-favored  man,  appeared  to  rely  solely  on  his  energy  and  sensi- 
bility for  success.  He  did  not  appear  to  have  bestowed  a  thought  upon 
the  influence  that  birth,  or  age,  or  country  might  have  produced  on  the 
expression  of  passion.  How  unlike  the  probing  research  of  Talma ! 
There  was  no  character ;  no  difference  in  his  several  performances  be- 
yond the  dress  he  wore ;  nor  did  he  seem  to  have  made  grace  in  the 
least  degree  the  object  of  his  study,  though  surrounded,  as  the  student 
is  here,  with  so  many  monitors  of  its  power.  With  so  many  models 
to  guide  the  pupil  in  his  attainment  of  elegance,  the  decency  of  gesture 
on  this  stage  seemed  utterly  disregarded.  A  jerking,  confined  move- 
ment of  the  actor's  arms,  a  constant  .ungraceful  shifting  of  the  legs, 
offended  the  eye  of  taste ;  but  with  all  his  faults,  his  want  of  repose, 
of  grace,  and  discrimination  of  character  (for  he  was  always  the  repre- 
sentative of  himself),  this  player  from  his  single  earnestness  and  ar- 
dency took  a  strong  hold  on  the  feelings  of  his  auditors.  In  the  excess 
of  rage  or  agony  of  grief  he  would  almost  shriek,  and  his  voice  would 
reach  a  degree  of  shrillness  that  threatened  to  endanger  his  retention 
of  sympathy,  but,  the  moment  of  peril  once  successfully  passed,  the 
effect  produced  was  powerful  and  even  terrible.  The  studious  artist 
will  "  gather  honey  from  the  weed,"  deriving  instruction  from  the  im- 
perfections of  others,  and  in  this  clever  actor's  performances  the  lesson 
impressed  was  the  enforcement  of  Shakespeare's  injunction  —  "  In  the 
very  torrent,  tempest,  and  whirlwind  of  your  passion,  to  acquire  and 
beget  a  temperance,  that  may  give  it  smoothness." 

The  days  to  which  my  sojourn  here  was  restricted  having  rapidly 
passed  away,  my  departure  for  Florence  could  no  longer  be  delayed. 
My  friend  Moreau  had  been  faithful  to  his  promise,  and  my  course 
was  shaped  in  agreement  with  his  instructions.  It  was  dark  when  I 
arrived  at  the  palace  degraded  now  to  the  Office  for  Diligences,  where 
I  was  to  embark  for  Chioggia.  When  I  entered  the  filthy  packet  that 
was  to  convey  me  from  Venice,  the  moon  had  not  yet  risen,  but  the 
blue  sky  was  richly  spangled  with  stars,  and  the  frequent  lights  from 
the  palaces  and  buildings  on  the  Great  Canal  gave  the  scene  a  most 
lustrous  and  imposing  effect.  These  reflected  in  the  water,  and  the 
lamps  of  the  gondolas  sometimes  gliding  slowly  along,  now  darting 
like  shooting-stars  across  the  sight  like  spirits  on  the  waters,  all  make 
this  sea-born  city  a  place  of  enchantment.  How  very  regretfully  I 
saw  the  vessel  pass  the  magnificent  structures  that  embank  the  canal ! 
I  spread  my  cloak  and  pillow  on  the  deck,  and  lay  along,  looking  al- 
ternately from  the  bright  heaven  above  —  where  now  the  moon,  "  ap- 
parent queen,"  was  shining  —  to  the  waters,  the  islands,  the  banks,  and 
sea-marks  we  were  slowly  passing,  and  with  a  heavy  heart  bade  a  long, 
a  last  adieu  to  Venice,  bearing  with  me  recollections  of  delight  that  time 
cannot  efface  or  weaken.  At  Ferrara,  which  I  reached  by  packet-boats 
on  the  Adige  and  the  Po,  my  stay  was  short,  enabling  me  to  see  no  other 
objects  of  interest  than  the  prison  of  Tasso,  the  tomb,  house,  and  MSS. 


186  MACREADTB  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XVI. 

of  Ariosto,  and  the  heavy  mass  of  the  Ducal  Palace,  rendered  more 
gloomy  by  the  remembrance  of  Lord  Byron's  "  Parisina."  Thence 
to  Bologna,  where  the  sculptures  of  John  of  Bologna,  and  the  works 
of  the  Caracci  school,  especially  the  pictures  by  Domenichino  and 
Guido,  would  have  recompensed  weeks  of  study ;  but  two  days  were 
all  I  had  to  give  to  this  noble  city.  The  square  leaning  tower  ap- 
peared to  me  a  most  unsightly  object,  calculated  to  excite,  perhaps, 
surprise  and  wonder  in  some,  but  awakening  no  feeling  of  pleasure  in 
the  true  lover  of  art. 

In  my  progress  through  the  streets  of  the  city,  my  curiosity  was 
aroused  by  the  sight  of  a  woman  very  respectably  dressed  in  mourn- 
ing, with  a  black  thick  veil  enveloping  her  person  and  completely 
hiding  her  face,  seated  on  a  low  slab  or  stool ;  her  head  bowed  down 
implied  distress,  but  the  decency  of  her  appearance  did  not  warrant  at 
first  view  the  idea  of  utter  indigence.  On  inquiring  into  the  cause  of 
her  long  continuance  in  the  same  place  and  posture,  I  was  told  that 
she  was  "  una  mendicante  vergognosa ; "  that  it  was  a  privilege  au- 
thorized by  long  custom  for  an  unfriended  woman,  overtaken  by 
calamity  and  under  the  pressure  of  poverty,  to  resort  for  one  day  to 
this  mode  of  exciting  the  commiseration  of  the  benevolent,  concealing 
her  name  and  person  ;  but  that  beyond  the  day  she  was  not  entitled  to 
the  indulgence.  It  struck  me  as  a  custom  that,  in  its  tenderness  to 
misfortune,  had  something  of  delicacy  in  it,  affording  the  sufferer  a 
chance  of  relief  without  the  humiliation  of  exposure. 

At  a  day  theater,  in  which  the  spectators  sat  in  the  open  air,  an 
Italian  version  of  Voltaire's  "  Zaire  "  was  performed.  I  arrived  only 
in  time  to  see  the  last  act.  The  Orasmin  was  a  bulky,  drowsy  carica- 
ture of  the  impassioned  Sultan  of  Jerusalem,  but  the  Zaire  displayed 
grace  and  feeling  that  made  me  regret  the  loss  of  her  earlier  scenes. 
It  was  at  Bologna  that  I  saw,  for  the  only  time  in  my  life,  the  "  giuoco 
del  ballone"  I  paid  an  admission  fee  to  the  court ;  the  players  were 
three  or  four  on  a  side,  and  certainly  astonished  me  by  the  extraordi- 
nary strength,  dexterity,  and  agility  they  displayed. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

1822.  —  Florence  —  Fiesole  —  Sir  Robert  Comyn  —  Naples  —  Eruption  of  Vesu- 
vius —  Pompeii  —  Pastum  —  Hcrculaneum  —  William  Etty  —  Home  —  Parma 
—  Milan  —  Pantomimic  acting  —  Turin  —  Geneva  —  Paris  —  Talma  in 
"  Sylla." 

Mr  journey  over  the  Apennines  by  vefturino  was  made  in  company 
of  a  most  repulsive  description,  and  under  a  degree  of  temperature 
that,  greatly  heightening  the  disagreeableness  of  my  fellow-passengers, 
made  Florence  a  haven  of  delight,  as  I  took  possession  of  airy  rooms 
in  my  comfortable  hotel  on  the  Lung'  Arno.  Before  setting  out  next 


1822.  FLORENCE.  187 

morning  on  my  daily  tour  of  observation,  I  was  surprised  by  the  serv- 
ant's delivery  of  a  small  packet  with  my  name  inscribed,  the  bearer 
waiting  for  an  answer.  Who  could  possibly  know  me  in  Florence  ? 
was  my  immediate  thought.  I  was  as  much  amused,  as  I  had  been 
surprised,  on  opening  the  packet,  which  contained  a  little  MS.  book,, 
very  legibly  and  carefully  written ;  the  first  page  of  which  I  copy  ver- 
batim : 

"  On  the  auspicious  arrival  in  Florence  of  most  distinct  and  illustrious  noble 
gentleman,  Sir  William  Macready,  England,  the  academician  and  poet,  Laurence 
Vallazani,  in  testimony  of  his  dutiful  respect,  presents  to  your  gentleman,  with 
the  most  sincere  desire,  his  following  poetical  compositions,  with  hopes  that  your 
gentleman,  will  not  disdain  to  place  them  under  your  powerful  protection,  and 
flatters  himself  that,  with  the  usual  generosity  of  your  gentleman,  will  not  fail  to 
be  rewarded." 

This  was  the  introduction  of'  three  sonnets  in  Italian,  the  first  of 
which,  "  Pel  felice  arrive  in  Firenze,"  began  thus  :  — 

"  Almo  Signer,  questa  citta  di  Flora 
Lieta  e  contenta  e  piu  dell'  usato, 
Poiche  1'aspetto  grave  e  insiem  ben  grato, 
Di  tua  gentil  presenza  oggi  1'onora." 

Inquiring  how  much  would  qualify  me  as  a  worthy  Maecenas  of  this 
poet,  I  purchased  my  patron's  title  with  a  couple  of  francs,  with  which 
the  poor  fellow  was  well  satisfied.  This,  as  I  understood,  was  his 
means  of  livelihood,  being  presented  with  the  alteration  of  the  name 
to  every  new  arrival. 

The  character  of  this  city  resembles  none  that  I  had  previously 
passed  through.  Even  in  presence  of  the  massive  structure,  with  its 
donjon-like  aspect,  of  the  Ducal  Palace,  or  Palazzo  Vecchio,  frowning 
over  the  Piazza  which  it  overshadows,  I  should  say  that  elegance  was 
its  distinguishing  peculiarity.  Even  to  the  pavement  of  its  streets 
there  is  a  neatness  and  a  finish  rarely  observable  elsewhere.  More 
than  a  fortnight  was  busily  employed  by  me  in  this  delightful  deposi- 
tory of  high  art,  storing  my  mind  with  images  of  beauty  and  interest 
that  are  still  a  lively  enjoyment  to  me.  To  enumerate  them  would  fill 
a  volume.  Nothing  was  neglected.  The  churches,  particularly  the 
Duomo  with  its  baptistery  and  the  Santa  Croce,  the  galleries,  palaces, 
museums,  rich  to  profusion  in  the  various  arts,  opened  a  new  world  of 
meditation  to  me ;  but  the  days  were  too  short  for  the  manifold  sub- 
jects of  study  and  observation  that  courted  my  attention,  several  of 
which  lured  me  again  and  again  to  their  inspection.  It  would  be  a 
languid  taste  that  could  soon  be  wearied  with  the  treasures  of  the  Gal- 
leria  di  Firenze,  among  which  "  the  statue  that  enchants  the  world," 
the  Medicean  Venus,  is  the  primary  attraction.  I  confess  myself,  in  a 
certain  degree,  disappointed  in  it.  The  real  beauty  of  "  the  human 
face  divine  "  is  its  expression,  and  in  the  face  of  the  Venus  there  is 
none,  so  that  no  sentiment  is  awakened  beyond  the  pleasure  of  admir- 
ing its  well-adjusted  proportions,  the  accuracy  of  which,  however,  I 


188  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XVI. 

have  heard,  is  disputed  by  some  anatomists.  The  Venus  of  Canova 
at  the  Pitti  Palace  is  a  graceful  figure,  with  a  gentle  compression  of 
the  lips  as  if  suppressing  a  smile.  But  of  all  the  statues  I  have  ever 
seen,  the  Venus  of  Milo  in  the  Louvre  answers,  I  think,  to  the  most 
perfect  ideal  of  womanly  loveliness. 

I  copied  the  inscriptions  on  the  monument  of  Macchiavelli,  Michael 
Angelo,  Galileo,  Alfieri,  and  others ;  visited  the  different  places  of 
amusement,  the  Cascine,  Boboli  Gardens,  and  the  theaters  then  open. 
At  the  Day  Theater  I  saw  Goldoni's  comedy  of  "  L'Aventuriere  Ono- 
rato,"  which,  being  very  well  acted,  amused  me  very  much.  With 
Milton's  poetry  so  frequent  -in  my  thought,  and  the  "  Anche  si  muove  " 
of  the  Tuscan  artist  he  celebrates,  I  could  not  omit  to  visit  Fiesole. 
I  drove  there  one  day  after  dinner,  but  within  half  a  mile  of  the  town, 
wishing  to  spare  the  horses  the  toil  of  the  steep  ascent,  I  left  the  car- 
riage to  wait  for  me  in  the  road,  and  briskly  made  my  way  up  to  the 
convent,  that,  above  Fiesole,  caps  the  very  summit  of  the  hill.  At- 
tended by  one  of  the  friars,  I  went  over  the  wretched  garden,  through 
the  dormitory,  into  the  refectory,  where  the  supper  of  the  monks,  a 
slice  of  bread  and  bunch  of  dried  grapes  for  each,  was  laid  out ;  and, 
after  listening  to  the  monk's  complaints  of  the  convent's  poverty,  I 
left  a  gratuity  for  the  few  brethren  there  and  rushed  down  the  narrow 
road  that  led  me  back  to  the  town.  It  was  then  twilight,  and,  seeing 
the  cathedral  doors  open  before  me,  I  did  not  slacken  my  speed,  but 
bounded  in  and  with  rapid  steps  had  reached  the  middle  of  the  nave 
before  two  persons  at  the  high  altar  were  aware  of  my  intrusion.  One 
was  a  priest  who,  in  desecration  of  the  place  and  forgetfulness  of  his 
holy  office,  was  in  the  act  of  kissing  a  young  woman.  Startled  by 
my  sudden  irruption,  he  hastily  retreated  into  the  sacristy  at  the  left 
hand,  and  the  young  girl  flung  herself  upon  her  knees  against  a  bench 
at  the  right,  with  her  head  so  bent  down,  that,  as  I  walked  round  the 
church  and  passed  close  by  her,  I  could  not  get  a  glimpse  of  her  feat- 
ures. When  I  had  nearly  regained  the  door,  the  priest  returned : 
whether  to  resume  his  devotional  exercise  or  no,  I  did  not  stay  to  in- 
quire. It  was  a  festa  in  the  town,  which  was  crowded  with  people. 
Descending  the  hill,  I  soon  reached  the  carriage,  and  at  Florence  men- 
tioned the  strange  scene  I  had  witnessed.  I  was  told  that  I  ought  to 
make  the  bishop  acquainted  with  the  circumstance,  but  knowing  how 
light  ecclesiastical  penances  generally  are,  I  did  not  think  it  worth 
while  to  move  further  in  the  matter. 

At  the  hotel  where  I  lodged,  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  Comyn, 
with  whom  I  had  made  acquaintance  at  Talfourd's  chambers.  We 
were  on  the  same  route,  and,  as  he  preceded  me  two  or  three  days,  we 
agreed  to  meet  again  at  Naples.  Our  intimacy  ripened  into  friendship, 
continued  through  many  years.  He  went  out  as  Sir  Robert  Comyn 
to  a  judgeship  in  India,  and,  after  holding  the  office  of  Chief  Justice  of 
Madras  for  a  considerable  period,  returned  to  England  with  a  very  good 
fortune.  The  day  of  my  departure  having  arrived,  I  left  this  delightful 
city  with  the  courier ;  and  as  he  had  charge  of  the  mail,  my  journey 


1822.  NAPLES.  189 

precluded  all  attempts  at  delay,  so  that  the  interesting  tract  over  which 
we  passed  was  almost  a  dead  letter  to  me.  Of  Siena  I  saw  nothing  be- 
yond the  great  square  and  the  exterior  of  the  cathedral,  and  had  only  a 
passing  glance  at  the  Lake  of  Bolsena.  The  summer  heats  were  not 
yet  sufficiently  tempered  to  make  Rome  a  safe  sojourn,  and  I  therefore 
took  advantage  of  the  courier's  early  start  to  limit  my  stay  there  to  a 
very  few  hours.  We  could  gain  but  partial  views  of  the  country  from 
our  carriage  windows,  so  that  beyond  the  "  impositum  saxis  late  can- 
dentibus  Anxur,"  1  the  modern  Terracina,  the  conviction  that  we  were 
on  the  track  of  the  Via  Appia,  and  the  sight  of  the  identical  pavement 
at  Fondi  that  once  made  part  of  it,  we  had  little  to  remind  us  of  Hor- 
ace's journey  to  Brundusium,  which  nevertheless  was  frequently  in  my 
thoughts.  We  had  been  cautioned  to  avoid  sleep  as  much  as  possible, 
particularly  over  the  Pontine  Marshes  ;  and,  as  a  defense  against  the 
malaria,  had  frequent  recourse  to  some  strong  aromatic  vinegar  that  I 
had  procured  at  Florence.  The  mere  sight  of  the  unfortunate  creatures 
who,  in  the  service  of  the  posts  there,  brought  out  the  relays  of  horses, 
was  sufficient  to  create  uneasy  sensations  in  breathing  this  pestilential 
atmosphere.  Their  complexion  was  the  deepest  yellow,  their  limbs 
like  those  of  actual  skeletons,  whilst  the  swollen  dropsical  stomach 
was  protruded  out  of  all  proportion  with  the  rest  of  their  emaciated 
frame.  It  was  a  dismal  spectacle,  bespeaking  a  speedy  termination  to 
a  life  of  miserable  endurance,  exciting  at  once  pity  and  disgust,  from 
which  it  was  a  relief  to  escape. 

Arrived  at  Naples  and  luxuriously  lodged  in  a  very  good  hotel  on 
the  Chiatamone,  commanding  a  full  view  of  the  Bay,  that  in  its  beauty 
even  surpassed  my  highly  wrought  expectations,  no  time  was  lost  in 
making  out  my  plans.  A  fresh  field  of  exploration  opened  before  me, 
and  with  all  the  ardor  of  a  discoverer  of  new  regions,  I  entered  on  my 
pursuit,  taking  in  due  turn  the  churches,  palaces,  and  repositories  of 
works  of  special  interest,  at  the  head  of  which,  for  unrivaled  excellence, 
abundance  and  variety  of  objects,  stood  the  Museo  Borbonico,  rich  iu 
the  antiquities  amassed  from  Herculaneum,  Pompeii,  etc.,  and  in  the 
marvelous  creations  of  genius  from  the  earliest  classic  times  do.wn  to  the 
glories  of  mediaeval  art.  My  hours  of  business  (for  my  daily  rounds, 
though  a  labor  of  love,  were  treated  as  business  by  me)  were  agree- 
ably diversified  by  the  acquaintances  I  formed  here.  Our  Minister  to 
the  Court  of  Naples,  Mr.  Hamilton,  was  most  kind  in  his  attentions 
to  me ;  no  less  so  was  Lord  Kinnaird.  Mathias,  a  distant  connection 
of  ours,  the  well-known  author  of  the  "  Pursuits  of  Literature,"  de- 
scribed in  Canning's  verse  as  — 

"  Thou,  the  nameless  bard,  whose  honest  zeal 
Tor  Law,  for  Morals,  for  the  Public  Weal, 
Fours  down  impetuous  on  thy  country's  foes 
The  stream  of  verse  and  many-languaged  prose,"  — 

was  on  a  visit  to  Mr.  Otway  Cave,  and  introduced  me  to  the  hospitali- 

1  "  Anxur,  built  on  its  far-gleaming  cliffs."  —  Horace,  Sat.  i.  5.  26.  —  ED. 
TRANS. 


190  MAC  READY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XVI. 

ties  of  that  charming  family.  It  was  at  dinner  with  Lord  Kinnaird, 
that  I  heard  the  startling  news  of  the  suicide  of  Lord  Londonderry. 
As  a  minister  he  was  unpopular,  and  would  have  been  more  in  his 
proper  element,  I  fancy,  in  the  command  of  an  army  than  at  the  head 
of  a  cabinet  or  as  leader  of  the  House  of  Commons.  He  was  pos- 
sessed of  very  considerable  talent,  of  a  very  gentlemanly  address,  and 
such  undaunted  courage  that  he  might  have  been  classed  among  the 
bravest  of  the  brave. 

From  this  dinner-party  it  was  that  I  started  in  a  carriage  for  Re- 
sina,  where  I  engaged  a  guide  for  the  ascent  of  Vesuvius.  The  wells 
at  Resina,  Portici,  etc.,  had  been  for  some  days  dried  up,  and  the 
usual  indications  of  an  eruption  near  at  hand  were  noticed  with  anxi- 
ety by  the  inhabitants.  Every  three  or  four  minutes  volleys  of  red- 
hot  ashes  and  stones  with  clouds  of  white  smoke  from  the  crater  were 
shot  far  up  into  the  air.  There  could  not  have  been  a  better  time  for 
a  visit  to  the  volcano.  A  sure-footed  donkey  carried  me  through 
narrow  lanes  and  vineyards  over  the  ragged  track  of  the  mountain 
path,  and  we  reached  our  resting-place  a  little  before  midnight.  It 
was  a  region  of  desolation,  a  desert  of  ashes,  and  huge  blocks  of  lava  ; 
a  wilderness  of  nature's  ruin  without  one  speck  of  vegetation.  There 
was  a  sort  of  hospice,  or7 "  hermitage  "  as  it  was  called,  —  why,  I  do 
not  know,  except  that  two  jolly  fellows  in  monks'  frocks  receive  visi- 
tors here  and  get  well  paid  for  their  ministry  of  sour  wine  and  tepid 
water,  which  they  call  "  acqua  fresca."  I  was  shown  into  an  upper 
room  furnished  with  a  bed,  on  which  I  did  not  venture  to  lie  down. 
The  open  window  gave  a  soft  balmy  air  delightful  to  the  sense,  and  a 
view  of  the  sea,  the  surrounding  hills,  and  the  city,  all  spread  out  un- 
derneath in  the  bright  moonlight.  The  stillness  was  so  profound  as 
to  be  really  felt,  and  was  rendered,  more  impressive  by  the  low  and 
hollow  murmur,  from  time  .to  time,  of  voices  in  the  chamber  beneath  ; 
and  sometimes  more  solemnly  by  the  roaring  of  the  mountain  above, 
"  whose  grisly  top  belched  fire  and  rolling  smoke."  I  never  had  the 
sense  of  solitude  as  on  that  night  and  in  that  room  ;  and  in  that  lone- 
liness, my  thoughts,  strangely  enough,  wandered  to  my  home  and  those 
I  loved  in  my  own  dear  country. 

After  a  time  I  fell  into  a  doze,  from  which  a  horrible  dream  awoke 
me  in  a  cold  perspiration.  Two  hours  after  midnight,  my  guide 
knocked  at  my  door  with  the  announcement,  "  All  ready."  I  re- 
mounted my  donkey,  the  guide  walking  beside  me,  and  another  man 
leading  the  way  with  a  torch,  over  and  between  blocks  of  lava  of  all 
sizes.  Nothing  but  lava  and  ashes  —  the  scene  so  dismal,  as  to  call 
up  Thomson's  line,  "  Horror  wide  extends  his  desolate  domain."  At 
a  certain  point  we  stopped  to  light  our  torches,  the  moon  being  now 
so  low  in  the  heavens  as  to  cast  deep  shadows  over  our  rugged  path, 
and,  leaving  the  donkey  to  the  care  of  our  assistant,  we  continued  our 
uneven  and  stumbling  course  until  we  came  to  the  foot  of  the  cone. 
Here  I  gave  up  my  torch  as  a  useless  incumbrance,  and  rushed  up 
the  ascent  (which  seemed  almost  perpendicular)  of  loose  ashes,  that 


1822.  ERUPTION  OF   VESUVIUS.  191 

gave  way  in  every  step  I  made.  "When  about  two  thirds  of  the  way 
up,  I  stopped  to  rest  myself,  and  looking  down  the  "  vast  abrupt,"  for 
such  it  seemed,  I  felt  my  head  turn  dizzy  with  the  height.  I  thought 
I  must  give  up  the  task ;  but  not  liking  to  be  beaten,  I  set  to  again. 
Again  I  faltered,  and  again  pushed  on,  and,  at  last  reaching  the  margin 
of  the  crater,  I  rolled  along  upon  the  ground  in  a  state  of  most  profuse 
perspiration,  and  desired  my  guide  to  wrap  my  cloak  over  me  that  I 
might  recover  breath  and  strength.  The  position  and  form  of  the 
craters  have  of  late  years,  as  I  have  read,  been  by  sundry  eruptions 
'entirely  altered ;  but  at  this  time  there  were  two,  the  one  to  which  we 
attained  in  active  discharge,  the  other,  of  far  more  extensive  circum- 
ference, extinct,  and  exhibiting  here  and  there  some  scanty  verdure  in 
parts  of  it. 

After  a  little  rest,  which  was  most  grateful  to  me,  we  made  our  ap- 
proaches to  the  mouth  of  the  yawning  gulf,  and  went  so  near  the  edge 
of  the  crater  that,  as  the  red-hot  ashes  came  tumbling  close  about  us, 
my  guide  objected  to  remaining,  and  we  took  up  a  position  a  little 
more  distant.  The  moon  went  down  blood-red  below  the  horizon  on 
one  side,  and  we  waited  to  see  the  sun  rise  up  "  in  glory  and  in  joy  " 
upon  the  other.  My  attention  was  arrested  by  a  most  extraordinary 
sound,  to  which  I  stood  listening  for  some  time.  It  was  like  a  deep 
and  heavy  sigh,  that  every  now  and  then  breathed  out  from  the  depths 
of  the  volcano,  as  of  the  mountain  panting  from  exhaustion.  Inquiring 
of  the  guide  what  this  might  be,  he  informed  me  that  it  was  a  sound 
that  was  heard  every  morning  at  sunrise,  when  the  mountain  was  in  a 
state  of  agitation.  It  was  with  a  feeling  akin  to  awe  that  I  lingered 
to  catch  each  return  of  this  mysterious  sound,  that  impressed  me  as 
the  stifled  expression  of  pain  from  some  gigantic  prodigy  of  nature. 
My  summer  in  England  might  have  been  turned  to  good  account  in  a 
pecuniary  point  of  view,  but  the  memory  of  a  spectacle  of  true  sub- 
limity like  this  was  a  treasure  of  thought  not  to  be  computed  by  coin. 
I  felt  grateful  for  the  indulgence  of  my  wishes,  and  prepared  for  my 
descent  with  extreme  reluctance.  But,  facilis  descensus !  Facilis, 
indeed ;  for  we  had  only  to  give  our  heels  to  the  loose  surface  of  our 
downward  way,  and  in  two  or  three  minutes,  laughing  all  the  time,  we 
were  at  the  foot  of  the  cone.  Leaving  the  customary  compliment  with 
mine  hosts  of  the  hermitage,  and  parting  on  good  terms  with  my  don- 
key and  Salvatore,  my  guide,  at  Resina,  I  soon  made  my  way  from 
thence  in  a  carriage  back  to  Chiatamone. 

My  evenings  not  spent  in  society  or  in  the  theaters  were  usually 
passed  in  a  lonely  row  on  the  Bay,  where,  letting  the  boatman  go  at 
will,  I  could  observe  the  frequent  outburst  of  Vesuvius,  or  watch  the 
deepening  shadows  on  the  surrounding  shores  of  Pausilippo  and  Sor- 
rento, and  the  distant  isles  of  Capri,  Procida,  and  Ischia.  At  the  San 
Carlo,  that  gorgeous  theater,  I  saw  a  mythological  ballet,  not  very 
well  performed  ;  the  "  Cenerentola  "  at  the  Fondo,  and  at  the  Teatro 
Nuovo  a  literal  translation  of  Murphy's  comedy  of  the  "  Way  to  Keep 
Him,"  in  which  Lovemore  was  addressed  and  spoken  of  as  Mis-ter 


192  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XVI. 

Lovy-more.  The  actress  who  personated  the  widow  Belmour  was  the 
same  accomplished  artiste  whom  I  had  seen  at  Bologna  in  Zaire.  She 
was  the  very  ideal  of  the  woman  of  fashion,  gay,  graceful,  and  alto- 
gether charming. 

My  tour  to  Pajstum  by  way  of  Pompeii  was  made  in  company  with 
Comyn.  In  walking  through  the  streets  of  Pompeii,  the  once  buried 
city,  examining  the  amphitheater,  almost  perfect,  the  Forum,  theaters, 
and  private  dwellings,  in  marking  the  ruts  worn  by  carriages  in  the 
stony  pavement,  imagination  wanted  little  aid  in  building  up  the  Ro- 
man town  as  it  stood,  and  peopling  it  with  the  busy  throngs  that  ages 
since  gave  life  to  it.  Pompeii  presents  a  history  of  the  Roman's  social 
state  that  no  verbal  description  can  equal,  and  is  to  the  antiquary  and 
artist  an  inexhaustible  treasury  of  instruction.  On  our  onward  route 
we  were  several  times  accompanied  by  Neapolitan  beggars,  running 
for  more  than  a  mile  by  the  side  of  the  carriage,  and  pleading  in  sig- 
nificant dumb  show  their  necessities.  It  is  not  an  unusual  custom  for 
Italians  to  answer  your  questions  by  a  gesture,  if  limited  to  "  yes  "  or 
"  no  ; "  but  the  Neapolitan  has  a  silent  language  and  is  eloquent  in  his 
gesticulation.  Assuming  a  most  rueful  aspect,  the  pantomime  of  his 
limber  hands,  alternately  waving  in  a  most  dejected  manner,  pointing 
to  his  open  mouth,  and  tapping  his  craving  stomach,  distinctly  indic- 
ative of  his  wants,  needed  no  interpreter.  But  translated  into  Eng- 
lish words  it  would  run  :  "  Illustrious  Signor,  I  am  a  very  miserable 
creature ;  this  poor  stomach  is  quite  empty ;  put  something  into  my 
open  mouth  to  send  into  it ;  and  Heaven  will  reward  you  ! "  "With 
this  mute  but  expressive  action,  irresistible  in  provoking  one's  laughter, 
the  persevering  suitor  seldom  fails  to  extort  some  bajocchi  from  one's 
charity. 

We  slept  at  Vietri,  and  with  the  early  morning  drove  on  to  Paestuin. 
The  country  through  which  we  passed  appeared  utterly  deserted,  as  if 
depopulated  by  malaria.  The  three  magnificent  temples,  so  grand  and 
majestic  in  their  solitary. state,  were  well  worth  a  longer  journey.  I 
was  never  before  so  impressed,  whatever  the  criticisms  of  architects 
may  advance,  with  the  beauty  of  fitness  and  just  proportion,  as  in  the 
sight  of  these  noble  monuments  of  a  by-gone  civilization.  On  our  way 
home  we  reached  Portici  about  noon,  and  were  invited  by  the  loiterers, 
who  surrounded  our  carriage,  to  see  what  was  shown  of  Herculaneum. 
Unaware  or  not  remembering  that,  having  been  submerged  by  floods 
of  lava,  all  that  can  be  seen  of  it  is  excavated  from  the  subterranean 
rock,  we  followed  our  guide,  and  down  a  flight  of  steps  descended  by 
candle-light  to  the  vaulted  passages  cut  out  of  the  ancient  theater. 
The  walls,  which  a  little  scraping  showed  to  be  marble,  were  streaming 
with  moisture ;  and  having  on  me  no  heavier  garment  than  a  light 
cambric  muslin  jacket,  the  chill  seemed  to  strike  right  through  me. 
Being  able  to  see  nothing  beyond  the  bits  of  wall  that  the  candle 
showed,  I  was  anxious  to  return,  but  Comyn,  whom  a  coup  (Tceil  gen- 
erally satisfied,  persisted  most  provokingly  in  lingering  in  this  well-like 
cavern.  I  afterwards  learned  that  Herculaneum  was  the  best  friend 
to  the  Neapolitan  physicians. 


1822.  DEPARTURE  FROM  NAPLES.  193 

Returning  to  Naples,  we  dined  together  at  a  trattoria  over  the  bay, 
amused  with  the  vociferous  oratory  of  the  vendors  of  maccaroni  and 
water-melons,  who  kept  up  an  incessant  jabber  in  extolling  the  excel- 
lence of  their  respective  objects  of  merchandise.  Parting  for  the 
night,  he  went  to  a  theater,  and  I  enjoyed  the  beauty  of  the  evening^ 
watching  the  violent  explosions  of  Vesuvius  on  the  smooth  waters  of 
the  bay  till  nearly  midnight.  But  the  next  morning  I  awoke  in  great 
pain  and  seriously  indisposed.  Calling  in  the  course  of  the  day  on 
Lord  Kinnaircl,  he  perceived  that  I  was  very  ill,  and  gave  me  the 
address  of  Dr.  (afterwards  Sir  James)  Clark,  enjoining  me  to  send 
for  him  without  delay,  which  of  course  I  did.  I  was  laid  up  for  many 
days  with  a  bilious  fever,  and,  under  God,  owe  my  life,  I  believe,  to 
my  physician's  skillful  treatment  of  my  disorder.  The  loss  of  time 
and  strength  this  illness  cost  me,  obliged  me  to  give  up  several  objects 
of  interest  I  had  reckoned  on  seeing,  and  I  was  obliged  to  use  a  car- 
riage during  the  few  remaining  days  left  me  in  Naples.  The  tomb  of 
Virgil  I  could  not  leave  unnoticed,  and  from  it  continued  my  drive 
through  the  grotto  of  Pausilippo.  Under  my  windows  I  had  the  bale- 
ful sight  of  the  Austrian  force  (then  in  occupation  of  the  city,  tefl. 
thousand  strong)  passing  in  procession  to  the  Chapel  of  the  Virgin, 
on  occasion  of  the  Festa  delta  sua  Nativita.  Every  man's  uniform 
was  padded,  and  some  made  a  most  grotesque  appearance ;  the  pad- 
dings, intended  to  give  a  stalwart  appearance  by  the  prominence  of 
the  chest,  in  many  cases  went  down  to  the  lower  stomach.  I  could 
not  help  thinking  that  half  the  number  of  Englishmen  would  have 
sent  those  fellows  to  the  right-about  in  double  quick  time.  There 
was  a  small  park  of  artillery  in  the  Toledo,  and  Austrian  uniforms 
in  every  street  exposed  the  humiliated  condition  of  the  government. 
I  felt  as  if  I  could  not  recover  my  strength  here,  and  had  a  horror  of 
being  buried,  should  I  die,  in  Naples. 

The  day  of  our  departure  was  fixed,  and  places  taken  to  Rome 
with  the  courier  for  Comyn  and  myself.  The  third  seat  was  occupied 
by  a  short  thin  young  man  with  very  light  hair,  his  face  marked  with 
the  small-pox,  very  gentle  in  his  manner,  with  a  shrill  and  feeble  tone 
of  voice,  whom  we  found  a  very  accommodating  and  agreeable  travel- 
ing companion,  and  whom  through  all  his  after-life  I  found  a  very 
warm  friend.  It  was  William  Etty,  whose  picture  of  Cleopatra  on 
the  Cydnus  had  already  given  earnest  of  the  elevation  he  subse- 
quently obtained.  Without  any  particular  adventure  we  reached 
Rome,  whither  my  thoughts  had  wandered  long  before.  How  large 
a  space  in  the  early  dreams  of  our  imagination  is  filled  with  the 
events  of  its  stirring  history !  —  and  here  I  was,  in  all  the  fervor  of 
youthful  enthusiasm,  on  the  very  stage  where  those  events  were  acted! 
This  high  delight  I  had  reserved  as  the  climax  of  my  holiday's  en- 
joyment. In  the  map  of  travel  that  I  had  marked  out  myself,  here 
was  "  the  butt,  the  very  sea-mark  of  my  utmost  sail."  I  took  a  very 
snug  lodging  in  the  Piazza  di  Spagna.  Though  now  much  at  ease, 
with  tolerable  fluency,  in  Italian,  I  still  continued,  as  in  all  my  other 
13 


194  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XVI 

resting-places,  the  services  of  a  tutor.  My  Roman  aid  was  a  literary 
man  recommended  to  me  by  Mathias,  whom  I  engaged  to  talk  with 
me  an  hour  every  day. 

I  should  fill  a  volume  in  giving  a  catalogue  of  the  scenes  and  works 
of  art  that  crowd  upon  the  attention  here.  It  is  enough  to  say  that 
with  redoubled  ardor  I  set  myself  to  improve  the  opportunities  before 
me.1  I  was  up  every  morning  with  the  first  gleam  of  light  to  wander 
over  the  Forum  and  its  precincts,  through  the  Coliseum,  the  baths,  the 
circuses,  temples,  and  sites  consecrated  to  memory  by  poets  and  his- 
torians. Nothing  was  left  unobserved  or  unstudied  that  came  within 
my  reach,  from  the  interior  of  the  brass  ball  on  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's, 
through  a  crack  of  which  I  had  a  sight  of 

"  Latium's  wide  domain,  forlorn  and  waste, 
Where  yellow  Tiber  his  neglected  wave 
Mournfully  rolls," 

to  the  secluded  fountain  of  Egeria.  The  statues,  from  that  of  Pompey, 
at  whose  base  "  great  Caesar  fell,"  to  that  mutilated  mass  which  goes 
bjr  the  name  of  Pasquin  (but  which  is,  I  believe,  the  remnant  of  a 
group  either  of  Hrcmon  and  Antigone,  or  Menelaus  and  Patroclus), 
were  scanned  again  and  again  with  unsatiated  interest ;  but  the  two 
that  took  the  firmest  hold  of  my  attention  and  admiration  were  the 
Apollo  in  his  majesty  of  superhuman  beauty,  and  the  Gladiator  in  his 
heroic  sufferance  of  the  death  that  was  overshadowing  him.  With  the 
masterpieces  of  the  sister  art  I  was  not  less  familiar,  being  a  frequent 
attendant  at  the  Vatican  and  the  many  galleries  enriched  with  the 
works  of  Raphael,  Guido,  Michael  Angelo,  Domenichino,  the  Caraccis 
and  others,  feasting  my  sight  with  the  beauty  they  have  bequeathed  us, 
and  taking  lessons  in  grace  and  expression  from  the  forms  and  com- 
binations they  have  so  wonderfully  delineated. 

Among  the  portraits  were  two  that,  from  their  evident  verisimilitude 
and  the  tragic  histories  attaching  to  them,  left  a  deep  and  painful  im- 
pression on  me.  These  were  the  Caesar  Borgia  in  the  Borghese  Palace 
by  Raphael,  and  the  Beatrice  Cenci  in  the  Barberini  Palace  by  Guido. 
The  first  with  his  hand  upon  his  dagger's  hilt,  in  his  handsome  swarthy 
Italian  countenance  reveals  a  capacity  for  mischief  that  has  rendered 
his  name  supremely  infamous,  whilst  the  mild  innocence  of  the  features 
of  the  lovely  Beatrice  seems  irreconcilable  with  the  perpetration  of  the 
crime  for  which  she  suffered,  and  the  intrepidity  with  which  she  con- 
fronted her  accusers.  I  seemed  here  to  be  walking  in  a  clay-dream  of 
delight,  recalling  the  deeds  of  other  times,  standing*  on  the  very  spot 
where  Cicero  might  have  fulminated  his  sentence  of  expulsion  against 
Catiline,  and  where  Virginius  might  have  made  his  awful  sacrifice. 
Visions  of  the  past  rose  incessantly  before  me.  The  faces  of  the  an- 

1  Macready's  copv  of  Vasi's  Itinerario  di  Roma  (edition  of  1820)  is  now  in 
the  Editor's  possessfon.  It  contains  abundant  proof  of  the  diligence  with  which 
he  went  over  Rome.  It  is  full  on  notes  and  observations  in  Italian,  carefully 
written  in  ink  upon  the  margins  of  the  pages,  and  contains  his  remarks  on 
pictures,  mentioning  many  which  are  not  named  in  the  guide-book.  —  ED. 


1822.  ROME.  195 

tique  busts  and  statues  became  so  familiar  to  me  that  Comyn  used  to 
say,  "  There  was  no  necessity  with  me  for  a  catalogue."  We  dined  at 
the  same  trattoria,  meeting  almost  every  day  at  dinner,  where  he  gen- 
erally saluted  me  with  the  intimation  of  the  number  of  galleries  he  had 
"knocked  off"  in  the  morning.  Our  excursions  to  Tivoli,  Adrian's 
Villa  and  Horace's  Farm,  and  to  Albano  and  Tusculum,  were  made 
with  Mr.  Pemberton  Leigh  (afterwards  Lord  Kingsdown).  The  pict- 
ures of  these  places  were  photographed  on  my  memory  in  life-endur- 
ing colors,  of  which  words  could  make  no  copy. 

It  would  not  be  expected  that,  in  Rome,  the  effect  of  the  Catholic 
religion  on  the  popular  mind  should  escape  my  notice.  Outward  ob- 
servance would  be  judged  by  many  to  be  all  in  all  to  its  possessors.  I 
have  watched  those  who  came  to  pray  at  St.  Peter's,  leaving  the  shrines 
before  which  they  had  been  kneeling,  approach  the  bronze  figure  of  the 
Prince  of  the  Apostles  (said  to  have  been  originally  a  statue  of  Jupiter), 
and  wiping  its  foot  with  their  cuffs  bestow  their  devotional  kisses  upon 
it.  The  metal  is  considerably  worn  by  these  pious  tributes ;  and  in 
the  church  of  Sta.  Maria  della  Minerva  is  a  marble  statue  of  the 
Saviour  by  Michael  Angelo,  the  foot  of  which,  for  its  protection  and 
further  preservation,  has  been  encased  in  a  sandal  of  brass,  so  much 
of  it  having  been  worn  away  by  the  pilgrims'  kisses.  The  more  re- 
spectful and  serious  demeanor  of  the  English  and  Irish  novices  is  par- 
ticularly noticeable  in  contrast  with  the  levity  and  air  of  indifference 
with  which  the  Italians  go  through  their  Aves  and  Paternosters.  Ital- 
ians will  sometimes  stare  with  astonishment  at  their  enrapt  earnestness, 
and  observe  to  one  another,  "  E  un  Inglese."  One  evening,  at  the 
theater  of  the  Marionettes,  in  the  course  of  the  performance  a  tinkling 
bell  was  heard  in  the  street ;  the  curtain  was  instantly  lowered,  and 
all  present  in  devout  silence  went  down  immediately  upon  their  knees. 
In  surprise,  I  inquired  of  my  neighbour  what  that  might,  be.  I  did 
not  directly  understand  her  whispered  answer,  "  E  il  Signor  ! "  —  which 
she  explained  to  me  as  the  Host  which  the  priests  were  carrying  to 
some  dying  or  sick  person.  These  ceremonial  offices  did  not  tend  to 
strengthen  my  faith  in  the  depths  of  religious  feeling  in  Italy. 

My  days,  that  had  been  so  industriously  and  happily  employed, 
were  now  drawing  to  a  close.  My  leave  of  absence  would  soon  expire, 
and  my  return  to  England  could  no  longer  be  delayed.  With  what 
reluctance  I  prepared  for  my  departure,  the  following  extract,  from  my 
journal  will  explain  : 

"  October  17th,  1822.  —  In  a  few  hours  I  shall  leave  Rome.  The 
heaviness  and  despondency  I  feel  are  not.  I  trust,  a  presage  of  ill  to 
come,  but  there  is  a  weight  on  my  spirits  I  strive  in  vain  to  shake  off. 
It  is  like  a  foreboding  that,  in  the  balance  of  life's  good  and  ill,  the 
future  will  have  much  to  set  off  against  the  enjoyment  of  the  past.  I 
have  been  able  here  to  free  myself  from  all  the  cares  and  annoyances 
which  will  in  degree  checker  the  most  fortunate  conditions,  and  have 
allowed  my  time  to  glide  away  —  how  swiftly  it  has  passed !  —  in 
pleasing  speculations  and  delicious  reveries  on  things  and  names  gone 


196  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XVI. 

by.  I  am  recalled  to  the  duties  and  serious  realities  of  the  world,  and 
must  henceforth  make  reputation  and  interest  the  objects  of  my  eager 
aim.  This  morning  I  revisited  for  a  last  farewell  the  various  places 
which  have  been  familiarized  to  me  by  my  frequent  rambles  and  med- 
itations. From  the  Pantheon,  where  I  ruminated  over  the  ashes  of 
Raphael  and  Annibal  Caracci  —  from  Michael  Angelo's  grand  and 
pensive  statue  of  the  Saviour  in  the  church  of  Sta.  Maria,  I  pro- 
ceeded to  the  Capitol  to  copy  the  inscription  on  the  urn  of  Agrippina. 
I  descended  to  the  Forum,  taking  my  last  view  between  the  Senate 
House  and  the  Tarpeian,  and  made  the  circuit  of  the  Palatine  ;  entered 
once  more  the  Coliseum,  and  lingered  among  its  imperial  ruins  till 
compelled  to  leave  them.  It  was  with  regret  amounting  almost  to 
pain,  that  I  took  leave  of  these  incentives  to  high  thought.  But  to 
have  been  in  Rome  is  something  —  a  possession  among  memory's 
treasures  for  which  the  ordinary  pleasures  of  life  have  no  equivalent. 
I  cannot  moreover  forget  the  prison  of  Tasso,  the  birthplace  of  Livy, 
and  the  grave  of  Virgil  where  my  homage  has  been  paid.  I  have 
sailed  on  the  Adriatic  and  the  Mediterranean,  and  the  single  con- 
sciousness of  where  I  then  was  has  been  a  reflection  of  self-gratulation 
to  me.  I  have  thought,  as  I  walked  through  the  silent  and  deserted 
ruins  of  the  Queen  of  Cities,  the  once  "  mistress  of  the  world,  the  seat 
of  empire,  the  delight  of  gods,"  that  the  mighty  spirits  who  raised  her 
to  her  pinnacle  of  unequaled  glory  had  walked  and  mused  upon  the 
very  spot  where  I  then  trod.  This  is  some  consolation  that  these 
gratifications  have  been  and  will  be  mine  while  life  lasts  : 

'Not  fate  itself  upon  the  past  has  power, 
But  what  has  been  lias  been,  and  I  have  had  my  hour.' " 

My  plan  of  return  was  unavoidably  altered.  I  had  calculated  on 
presenting  my  letter  of  introduction  to  Lord  Byron  at  Pisa,  and  mak- 
ing a  short  stay  there  on  my  way  to  Genoa ;  but  on  account  of  some 
injury  to  the  road,  which  would  require  time  for  repairing,  the  passage 
was  closed,  and  I  was  forced  to  retread  my  steps  by  way  of  Bologna. 
This  was  a  grievous  disappointment,  as  I  had  counted  much  on  seeing 
the  noble  poet  in  whose  works  I  was  so  deeply  read.  An  English 
physician,  Dr.  Crawford,  whom  I  met  at  Florence,  was  on  his  way  to 
England,  and,  joining  company,  we  took  our  homeward  course  in  a 
scappa-via  from  Bologna  through  Modena  and  Reggio  to  Parma, 
where  we  rested,  and  profited  by  the  opportunity  of  seeing  the  beauti- 
ful easel-pictures  and  frescoes  of  Correggio,  and  the  wooden  theater, 
said  to  be  the  largest  in  P^urope,  and  which  certainly  is  the  most 
remarkable  for  its  wonderful  transmission  of  sound.  From  Parma  to 
Piacenza,  where  the  Po  is  crossed  by  a  bridge  of  boats,  our  next 
resting-place  was  Lodi,  made  famous  by  the  desperate  passage  of  the 
bridge  over  the  Adda,  one  of  the  most  daring  exploits  in  military 
history,  performed  by  Napoleon  Bonaparte  and  Massena  at  the  head 
of  their  grenadiers  in  face  of  the  Austrian  army. 

We  reached  Milan  the  same  night  in  time  to  be  present  at  the  per- 


1822.  MILAN— TURIN.  197 

formance  of  a  grand  serious  ballet  at  the  Scala,  where  a  pantomimist, 
called  Pellerina,  famous  throughout  Italy,  acted  the  principal  charac- 
ter. The  story  has  been  dramatized  with  some  alterations  by  Hannah 
More  in  her  tragedy  of  "  Percy,"  and  was  probably  suggested  by  Boc- 
caccio's tale  of  Gismunda  and  Guiscardo.  The  heroine  has  been 
compelled  to  marry  a  nobleman  during  the  absence  of  her  lover  in  the 
Holy  Land,  who  on  his  return  falls  a  victim  to  the  infuriate  jealousy 
of  the  husband,  and  not  satisfied  with  this  revenge,  the  implacable 
husband,  to  glut  his  hatred,  sends  from  the  field  of  combat  her  lover's 
heart  to  her  inclosed  in  a  golden  case.  The  grace,  intelligence,  and 
emotion  expresssd  in  her  attitudes  and  gestures  riveted  attention 
throughout ;  but  the  effect  of  her  acting  in  the  scene  where  she  receives 
the  mysterious  present,  was  beyond  what  I  have  ever  seen  produced 
by  similar  means.  With  a  foreboding  of  its  contents,  most  distinctly 
expressed,  she  hesitated  in  opening  the  casket,  and  her  look  and 
stiffened  attitude  of  horror  when  the  appalling  truth  was  disclosed  was 
actually  thrilling !  I  covered  my  face  with  my  hands,  so  much  was  I 
affected  by  the  tragic  power  of  this  extraordinary  artiste.  Unless  I 
had  witnessed  the  performance,  I  could  not  have  believed  that  mere 
mute  expression,  without  the  aid  of  language,  could  have  worked  so 
powerfully  on  the  feelings.  The  next  morning  Dr.  Crawford  invited 
me  to  accompany  him  to  the  Ospedale  Maggiore,  to  the  Curator  of 
which  he  had  a  letter.  It  was  a  truly  noble  establishment ;  the  clean- 
liness and  quietude  were  remarkable.  We  walked  through  the  exten- 
sive and  well- ventilated  wards  of  the  male  patients,  where  the  beds 
were  ranged  at  convenient  distances  on  either  side ;  not  a  word  was 
spoken,  nor  a  sound  beyond  that  of  our  own  footsteps  heard  to  disturb 
the  stillness.  From  there  we  crossed  the  court-yard  to  the  women's 
ward.  There  is  to  me  no  sound  in  nature  more  sweet  than  that  of 
woman's  voice,  and  impressed  with  that  belief  I  shall  not  be  thought 
reflecting  on  the  sex  when,  adopting  Shakespeare's  dictum,  "  the 
sweetest  honey  is  loathsome  in  its  own  deliciousness,"  I  could  wish  for 
moderation  even  in  what  might  be  most  charming.  On  opening  the 
door  the  clatter  that  burst  upon  our  ears  from  the  double  row  of 
invalid  beds  made  such  a  Babel,  that  we  were  glad  to  shut  it  and 
escape  from  the  din  that  might  be  called  a  chorus,  but  which  certainly 
was  not  a  "  harmony  of  tongues." 

On  to  Turin,  where  I  had  time  to  go  through  the  royal  gallery,  in 
which  are  many  fine  pictures ;  among  them  the  Vandyke  portraits  of 
the  Stuart  family  particularly  engaged  my  notice.  The  triple  portrait 
of  Charles  L,  sent  to  Italy  for  Bernini  to  model  a  statue  from,  showed 
the  unintellectual  character  of  the  face  as  I  had  never  before  remarked 
it.  In  the  courier's  mail-carriage,  a  very  comfortable  sort  of  convey- 
ance, my  journey  was  continued  over  Mont  Cenis  in  a  violent  snow- 
storm, by  no  means  an  agreeable  transit  to  Chambery.  Les  Charmettes, 
the  residence  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  and  Madame  de  Warens,  I  vis- 
ited, but  entertaining  no  sympathy  with  the  occupants  that  have  made 
the  place  an  object  of  public  curiosity.  The  profound  thought,  the  elo- 


198  MACREADTTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XVL 

quence  and  descriptive  power  of  Rousseau,  cannot  reconcile  me  to  his 
disregard  of  the  first  social  obligations ;  but  whilst  I  read  with  disgust 
his  violation  of  them,  and  his  repudiation  of  nature's  claims,  Pity  lifts 
"  her  soul-subduing  voice  "  in  the  doubt  that  arises  of  his  perfect  san- 
ity. He  has  left  great  utterances,  and  taught  in  words  the  wisdom  he 
could  not  prove  and  illustrate  by  practice.  Arriving  at  Geneva,  I  went 
to  Ferney.  The  house  of  Voltaire,  and  his  bedroom,  said  to  be  left 
exactly  as  in  his  life-time,  with  the  portrait  of  Le  Kain  opposite  to  his 
bed,  could  not  fail  to  give  matter  for  much  reflection.  If  all  he  wrote 
had  been  written  in  the  spirit  of  his  romance  of  "  Zadig,"  what  a  bene- 
factor to  mankind  his  mighty  genius  would  have  made  him  !  The  dili- 
gence took  me  to  Dijon,  where  I  slept,  and  the  next  morning  went  at 
the  earliest  business  hour  to  the  bankers  to  change  my  last  billet  de 
banque.  On  my  way  back  I  turned  into  a  very  handsome  cafe,  and 
ordered  breakfast.  At  a  table  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  was  a 
gentleman  whose  features  I  instantly  recognized. 

How  often  one  may  hear  from  Englishmen  indiscriminate  abuse  of 
the  French  character !  In  conversation  once  with  Savage  Landor,  I 
remember  making  some  observation  on  the  very  general  diffusion  of 
taste  in  France,  when  I  was  interrupted  by  the  grand  old  poet  with, 
"  Sir,  the  French  are  all  scoundrels  ! "  It  was  with  difficulty  I  re- 
strained myself  from  laughing  out  at  this  brusque  universality  of  con- 
demnation ;  but  I  regret  to  think  that  many  Englishmen  totally  unac- 
quainted with  France  and  Frenchmen  would  be  found  readily  disposed 
to  indorse  the  libel.  I  can  remember  when  the  House  of  Commons 
would  hear  with  the  silence  of  indifference,  if  not  of  acquiescence,  the 
monstrous  dogma  which  the  bigot  ignorance  of  members  has  laid  down, 
that  the  French  and  English  were  natural  enemies :  an  implied  ar- 
rangement of  the  Creator,  whose  attribute  is  love,  at  once  as  impious 
as  it  is  absurd.  Englishmen  in  visiting  France  too  often  neglect  the 
needful  study  of  the  language,  and  in  consequence  expose  themselves 
to  embarrassment  and  inconvenience,  which  they  resent  in  their  vitu- 
peration of  a  people  whose  style  and  address  are  usually  allowed  to  be 
most  courteous  and  conciliatory.  My  own  experience  of  them  would 
justify  me  in  maintaining  politeness  to  be  a  national  characteristic. 
Nor  is  kindness  of  heart  a  quality  less  native  to  them  than  urbanity  of 
manner :  an  interesting  proof  of  this  was  afforded  me  on  the  present 
occasion.  The  gentleman  whom  I  had  noticed,  after  a  few  minutes, 
casting  his  eyes  to  my  side  of  the  room,  started  up,  and  exclaiming 
"  Oh !  Monsieur  Macready  !  "  rushed  over  to  me  and  embraced  me  with 
the  most  genuine  cordiality.  It  was  Monsieur  Guillaume,  one  of  my 
young  French  compagnons  de  voyage,  whom  I  had  parted  with  at  Milan 
in  the  early  summer.  He  sat  at  my  table  while  I  breakfasted,  and  not 
all  the  resistance  and  remonstrance  I  could  make  availed  to  prevent 
him  from  discharging  my  account.  He  insisted  that  I  should  be  "  his 
guest "  whilst  in  Dijon.  His  family  were  still  in  the  country,  but  he 
took  me  to  his  house,  an  extremely  handsome  one,  left  in  the  care  of  a 
servant,  accompanied  me  to  the  Museum,  entertained  me  at  the  prin- 


1822.  TALMA.  199 

cipal  restaurant  with  a  recherche  dinner,  and  walked  or  sat  with  me  to 
the  hour  of  my  departure,  nine  at  night,  when  he  shook  hands  with 
me  as  I  took  my  seat  in  the  diligence  for  Paris.  I  had  given  him  my 
address  in  London,  where  he  promised  to  see  me,  and  where  I  had 
hoped  to  renew  our  intimacy  ;  but  it  was  not  fated  that  we  should  ever 
meet  again.  This  unexpected  rencontre  is  a  very  pleasing  remem- 
brance, and  it  is  a  small  return  in  recording  this,  among  many  instances 
of  spontaneous  friendliness,  to  bear  testimony  to  the  kindly  spirit  and 
amiability  of  disposition  in  Frenchmen,  of  which  I  have  had  such 
large  experience. 

Arrived  at  Paris,  I  took  up  my  quarters  at  my  old  hotel,  Rue  Ste. 
Hyaciuthe,  and  at  the  table  d'hote  fell  into  conversation  with  an  En- 
glishman just  come  from  London,  who,  in  giving  me  news  of  the  thea- 
ters, amused  me  with  what  I  conceived  his  blundering  statement  of 
having  seen  Young  in  Hamlet  at  Drury  Lane.  I  begged  leave  to 
correct  him,  assuring  him  it  was  not  possible,  and  that  he  must  mean 
Covent  Garden.  He,  however,  persisted,  and  I  resolutely  in  my  own 
mind  persuaded  myself  he  was  mistaken.  There  had  been  for  many 
years  an  understanding,  if  not  a  direct  covenant,  between  the  man- 
agers, that  no  performer  leaving  one  theater  should  be  engaged  at  the 
other  until  after  the  expiration  of  a  year.  The  knowledge  of  this  (un- 
just) compact  gave  me  confidence  in  my  assertion. 

"  Sylla  "  was  the  play  at  the  Theatre  Fran$ais,  where,  of  course,  I 
hastened  to  obtain  the  best  place  for  seeing  the  great  French  actor. 
The  play  itself  is  meager  in  incident,  deficient  in  pathos,  prosaic  in  its 
language,  and,  indeed,  restricted  in  its  apparent  aims  to  the  single  pur- 
pose of  developing  the  character  of  Sylla.  In  the  success  of  this  at- 
tempt the  author,  Jouy,  has  been  greatly  aided  by  the  genius  of 
Talma,  the  reality  of  whose  impersonation  justly  entitled  him  to  the 
grateful  acknowledgments  of  the  poet's  preface :  "  II  n'est  point  ac- 
teur :  il  ne  porte  ni  la  pour  pre  ni  le  diademe  de  theatre :  il  vit  chaque 
jour  pendant  deux  heures  de  la  vie  du  personnage  qu'il  represente. 
Jamais  transformation  ne  fut  plus  complete."  Having  intently 
watched  him  throughout  his  performance,  I  can  readily  subscribe  to 
this  eulogism.  His  entry  on  the  stage,  in  the  dignified  ease  of  his  de- 
portment, bespoke  a  consciousness  of  power  that  arrested  at  once  the 
attention  and  interest  of  the  beholder.  In  his  attitudes  and  manners 
there  was  nothing  of  the  rigidity  and  visible  preparation  of  Kemble  ; 
his  address  was  that  of  one,  to  whom  the  tone  of  command  was  too 
familiar  to  need  strain  or  effort.  His  pride,  too  lofty  to  be  betrayed 
into  violence,  displayed  itself  in  his  calm  disdain  of  the  "  Remains 
degeneres."  To  the  dependent  kings,  the  mutinous  people,  or  the  in- 
furiated Valerie,  he  preserved  the  same  unperturbed  demeanor.  The 
heroic  bearing  with  which  he  tendered  his  sword  to  the  conspirator, 
Claudius,  was  in  the  same  lofty  scorn  of  death,  the  same  confidence  in 
his  destiny.  It  was  only  when  arraigned  at  the  bar  of  his  own  con- 
science that  he  appeared  to  feel,  and  confessed  the  insufficiency  of 
greatness  to  give  peace.  In  the  disturbed  sleep,  haunted  by  the  vision 


200  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XVII. 

of  his  slaughtered  victims,  which  followed  his  soliloquy,  he  awed  the 
audience  into  a  death-like  stillness.  The  crowning  act  of  his  public  life, 
his  abdication,  was  in  accordant  tone  with  the  haughty  indifference  to 
his  servile  countrymen  that  had  marked  his  career  of  greatness  ;  and 
his  dignified  utterance  of  the  line, 

"  J'ai  gouverne'  sans  pcur,  ct  j'abdiquc  sans  crainte  !  " 

was  a  fitting  climax  to  the  character  so  nobly  and  consistently  main- 
tained. The  toga  sat  upon  him  as  if  it  had  been  his  daily  costume. 
His  coiffure  might  have  been  taken  from  an  antique  bust ;  but  was  in 
strict  resemblance  of  Napoleon's.  It  was  reported  that  several  pas- 
sages had  been  struck  out  of  the  text  by  the  censor,  under  the  appre- 
hension of  their  application  by  the  Parisians  to  the  exiled  emperor,  and 
an  order  was  said  to  have  been  sent  from  the  police  forbidding  Talma 
to  cross  his  hands  behind  him.  the  ordinary  habit  of  Napoleon.  Such 
were  the  on  dits  of  the  day ;  but  they  detracted  nothing  from  the  con- 
summate skill,  displayed  by  this  great  actor  in  his  personation  of  the 
Roman  Dictator.  It  was  the  perfection  of  the  art,  raising  it  to  an  in- 
tellectual level  with  the  sculptor's  or  painter's  conceptions,  and  for  cur- 
rent value  wanting  only  a  medium  more  tenacious  than  memory, 
whereon  to  stamp  the  fidelity  of  its  portraiture. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

1822-1823.  —  Commencement  of  Covent  Garden  season  —  Shell's  "  Huguenot  "  — 
Wolsey  in  "  Henry  VIII." — "  King  John  " — Miss  Mitford's  "  Julian  " —  Shylock 

—  Secession  from  Covent  Garden  —  Engagement  to  marry  —  Agrees  with  Ellis- 
ton   to  act   at  Drury  Lane  —  Provincial  engagements  —  Rapid  journey  from 
Southampton   to  Montrose — The  story  of  the  child  rescued  from  the  fire  — 
"  Virginius  "  at  Kendal  —  Tour  in  the  English  Lake  country  —  Visit  to  Words- 
worth at  llydal  Mount  —  York  —  Musical  festival  —  First  season  at  Drury  Lane 

—  Meeting  of  future  wife  and  sister. 

MY  engagements  not  allowing  me  to  prolong  my  stay  in  Paris,  I 
arranged  for  my  departure  the  next  day  ;  but  first  went  to  a  reading- 
room  in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  to  learn  what  had  been  doing  in  the  Lon- 
don theaters  during  my  absence.  To  my  astonishment,  indeed  it  was 
with  dismay,  I  read  in  the  "  Courier  "  that  Emery  was  dead,  and  that 
Young,  Miss  Stephens,  and  Listen,  had  seceded  from  Covent  Garden 
and, were  engaged  by  Elliston  at  Drury  Lane,  where  crowded  houses 
were  in  nightly  contrast  with  the  deserted  benches  of  the  other  theater. 
But  there  my  lot  was  cast,  and  to  join  this  impoverished  company, 
stripped  of  so  many  of  its  ablest  supporters  and  sunk  in  public  opinion, 
I  was  under  bond  to  go.  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  extreme  dejection, 
indeed  of  hopelessness,  that  I  set  out  on  my  journey.  My  anticipa- 
tions fell  short  of  the  actual  state  in  which  I  found  the  theater  on  my 


1822-23.  SHEWS  "HUGUENOT."  201 

arrival.  The  incapacity  of  the  Covent  Garden  Committee,  in  contrast 
with  the  policy  of  Mr.  Harris  and  the  enterprise  and  tact  of  Elliston, 
had  irrecoverably  developed  itself.  For  an  inconsiderable  weekly  sum, 
they,  the  committee,  had  parted  with  three  of  their  most  popular  per- 
formers, and  enabled  the  rival  house  to  array  against  their  weakened 
forces  a  company  comprising  the  names  of  Kean,  Young,  Munden,  Lis- 
ton,  Dowton,  Elliston,  Terry,  Harley,  Knight,  Miss  Stevens,  Madame 
Vestris,  Mrs.  Orger,  Mrs.  Davison,  etc.,  etc.  The  result  was  what 
could  only  be  expected.  Drury  Lane  was  the  fashion,  and  Covent 
Garden  was  literally  a  desert.  A  few  months'  experience  was  suffi- 
cient to  convince  the  committee  of  their  inaptitude  for  the  task  they 
had  undertaken,  and  of  the  fallacy  of  Charles  Kemble's  representations 
and  advice.  They  accordingly  wished  Mr.  Harris  to  resume  the  con- 
duct of  the  theater,  which  he  declined  on  the  reasonable  plea  that  they 
had  broken  up  his  powerful  company ;  and  holding  them  to  their 
written  undertaking  to  sign  the  lease  agreed  upon,  a  suit  in  Chancery 
was  the  consequence,  which  terminated  in  the  bankruptcy  of  the  con- 
cern. In  the  mean  time,  my  engagement  held  me  fast,  and  my  first  ap- 
pearance for  the  season,  with  very  indifferent  support,  was  made, 
November  13th,  1822,  in  "  Othello  "  which,  with  the  combination  of 
Young  and  Kean,  was  acting  to  a  run  of  overflowing  houses  at  Drury 
Lane.  At  this  time  my  eldest  sister  was  induced  by  my  pressing  rep- 
resentations to  take  up  her  abode  with  me.  I  had  made  the  same  pro- 
posal to  my  younger  sister,  but  incompatibility  of  temper,  which  did 
not  prevent  us  from  remaining  friends,  was  a  barrier  to  such  a  perma- 
nent arrangement. 

The  anxiety  of  Sheil  to  bring  forward  his  tragedy  of  "  The  Hugue- 
not "  led  him  to  hope  that  in  some  rising  actress  he  might  find  a  suc- 
cessor to  Miss  O'Neill,  who  could  sustain  the  heroine's  part  in  his 
play  ;  and  with  this  view  he  had  requested  me  to  give  what  instruction 
I  could  to  Miss  F.  H.  Kelly.  In  consequence  I  had  tutored  her  in 
the  part  of  Juliet,  which  character  she  successfully  repeated  several 
nights  to  good  houses  at  Covent  Garden.  But  of  acting  may  be  said 
what  Scott  has  said  of  poetry,  it  is  "  the  art  unteachable,  untaught." 
Her  subsequent  efforts  did  not  keep  pace  with  the  eclat  of  her  debut. 
"  The  Huguenot "  was  produced  with  a  very  feeble  cast,  and  though 
the  part  of  Polignac  was  among  my  most  powerful  personations,  the 
play  sank  for  want  of  due  support.  Abbott  was  not  perfect  in  the 
words  he  had  to  speak.  A  character  intended  for  Young  was  assigned 
to  Bartley,  a  comic  actor,  and  Yates,  in  his  appearance  as  the  chivalric 
rival  of  Polignac,  excited  a  roar  of  laughter  from  his  resemblance  to 
the  Jew,  little  Isaac  Mendoza.  This  was  the  best  of  Shell's  dramatic 
works,  and  deserved  a  better  fate. 

The  production  of  "  King  Henry  VIII."  (January  loth,  1823)  gave 
me  the  opportunity  of  studying  Cardinal  Wolsey,  at  which  I  labored 
with  unremitting  diligence,  and  which  has  remained  among  my  most 
favorite  Shakespearian  assumptions.  "  King  John  "  was  the  next  play 
of  Shakespeare's  that  added  another  character  to  my  list.  Kemble's 


202  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XVII. 

reputation  in  this  part  had  reference  chiefly,  if  not  exclusively,  to  the 
grand  scene  of  John's  temptation  of  Hubert.  On  this  I  bestowed,  of 
course,  ray  utmost  pains,  but  brought  also  into  strong  relief  that  in 
which  the  coward  monarch  endeavors  to  shift  his  own  criminality  on 
Hubert,  a  scene  to  which  Ivemble,  in  his  impressive  representation  of 
the  part,  had  neglected  to  give  prominence.  It  was  in  this  play  that 
Charles  Kemble  appeared  to  very  great  advantage.  His  handsome 
person  answered  to  the  heroic  idea  of  Faulconbridge,  and  his  perform- 
ance of  the  character  was  most  masterly. 

A  tragedy  by  Miss  Mitford,  entitled  "Julian,"  acted  March  15th, 
had  but  moderate  success  :  the  Covent  Garden  company  was  no  longer 
equal  to  the  support  of  plays  containing  several  characters.  The  au- 
thoress in  her  dedication  of  her  play  to  me,  was  profuse  in  her  acknowl- 
edgments and  compliments,  but  the  performance  made  little  impression 
and  was  soon  forgotten. 

The  only  remaining  event  of  interest  to  me  was  my  first  essay  in 
the  part  of  Shylock,  which  I  acted  with  the  playful  petite  comedy  of 
"  Matrimony  "  for  my  benefit  to  a  crowded  house  on  May  13th,  1823. 
The  audience,  ever  disposed  to  look  with  favor  on  my  attempts^  were 
most  liberal  in  their  applause,  but  I  was  not  satisfied  with  the  exe- 
cution of  my  conceptions,*  which  the  study  of  after  years  very  greatly 
improved. 

The  season  had  been  to  me  one  of  perplexity,  disquiet,  and  irrita- 
tion, much  of  which,  as  I  now  perceive,  was  attributable  to  the  excita- 
bility of  my  own  undisciplined  temperament.  Had  I  possessed  the 
impassive  prudence  of  Young,  the  endeavor  of  the  committee  to  impose 
on  me  a  contract-  different  from  my  rightful  one  would  have  been 
quickly  and  quietly  foiled,  but  my  own  impatience  of  wrong  lent  them 
arms  against  me,  and  whilst  striving  against  manifest  injustice,  I  was, 
through  their  representations,  regarded  by  many  as  unreasonably  cap- 
tious and  causelessly  discontented.  It  was  my  acceptance  of  Mr.  Har- 
ris's verbal  pledge  in  connection  with  our  written  agreement  that  led 
to  disputes,  which  ended  in  the  rupture  of  my  engagement.  I  would 
willingly  pass  over  all  notice  of  the  transaction,  but  my  secession  from 
Covent  Garden  being  a  part,  and  an  important  one,  of  my  professional 
history,  requires  to  be  accounted  for.  By  evasion  in  the  first  instance, 
and  by  subsequent  misstatements,  the  committee  sought  to  nullify  the 
verbal  part  of  my  agreement,  acknowledged  in  writing  by  Mr.  Harris 
and  attested  by  Mr.  Reynolds. 

After  much  correspondence  and  studied  delay  on  the  part  of  the 
committee,  I  at  length  yielded  most  injudiciously  to  the  proposal  to  sub- 
mit the  questi6n  to  arbitration,  with  the  emphatic  proviso  that  the  set- 
tlement should  be  made  immediately.  Talfourd  and  Maule  (both  of 
whom  subsequently  attained  seats  on  the  Bench)  were  nominated  ar- 
biters on  the  above  condition.  Maule,  the  committee's  referee,  deferred 
the  settlement  of  the  business,  and  the  season  closed  without  any  meet- 
ing having  taken  place.  In  consequence  I  instructed  Talfourd  to  sig- 
nify to  the  committee  my  withdrawal  of  his  authority  to  act  in  the 


1822-23.  LEAVES  CO  VENT  GARDEN.  203 

matter,  and  by  the  same  post  gave  them  notice  that,  as  they  demurred 
to  ratify  my  engagement,  I  held  it  to  be  void,  and  should  act  on  that 
understanding. 

It  was  with  regret  I  left  Covent  Garden,  the  scene  of  my  earlier 
successes,  and  associated  with  so  much  of  interest  in  my  professional 
career  ;  but  under  the  present  management  it  was  no  longer  the  same 
theater.  I  may  perhaps  be  suspected  of  exhibiting  an  unnecessary,  or 
at  least  a  premature,  querulousness  on  what  may  seem  only  a  possible 
contingency ;  but,  involving  as  my  engagement  did  not  only  a  question 
of  pecuniary  amount,  but  also  that  of  my  rank  in  the  theater,  it  was 
of  especial  importance  that  its  terms  should  be  recognized  and  dis- 
tinctly specified.  The  circumstance  arising  from  this  imbroglio  that  I 
must  lament,  was  the  rupture  of  those  friendly  relations  which  had  so 
long  subsisted  between  Mr.  Fawcett  and  myself.  It  is  only  due  to  his 
memory  to  admit  what  I  have  since  seen,  that,  through  my  inexperi- 
ence and  impatience  of  the  committee's  injustice,  I  gave  too  little  con- 
sideration to  the  difficulty  of  his  position  between  the  parties  ;  and  it  is 
with  grateful  respect  to  his  memory  that  I  now  give  utterance  to  my 
regret,  recalling  the  many  acts  of  kindness  I  had  received  from  him. 
I  wrote  to  him  after  my  illness,  but  my  letter  did  not,  I  have  reason  to. 
believe,  convey  to  him  the  full  expression  of  my  feelings  as  I  could 
have  wished. 

The  impolicy,  to  use  no  harsher  term,  of  the  committee's  conduct 
will  be  apparent  from  its  results.  In  acceding  to  the  payment  de- 
manded, and  in  previous  seasons  received,  by  Young,  Miss  Stephens, 
and  Liston,  the  total  addition  to  the  weekly  charge  on  the  Covent  Gar- 
den Treasury,  including  the  consequent  advance  of  £5  per  week  to  my- 
self, would  have  been  only  £20,  for  which  consideration  the  committee 
lost  the  services  of  those  most  popular  performers,  who  profited  by  this 
unthrifty  economy  in  the  receipt  each  of  £20  per  night,  which  Ellis- 
ton  readily  gave  them.  Although  eventually  benefited  in  a  pecuniary 
point  of  view,  much  mischief  arose  to  me  from  the  cabal  to  which  I 
was  afterwards  exposed  from  the  partisans  of  the  Covent  Garden  man- 
agement. But  it  is  a  dreary  wilderness  where  some  flowers  do  not 
grow,  and  in  the  midst  of  all  this  turmoil  and  contention,  sweet  and 
soothing  promises  of  happier  days  would  often  intervene,  and,  under 
present  vexations,  I  could  at  times  look  hopefully  into  the  future,  and 
"  bid  the  lovely  scenes  at  distance  hail !  "  The  prospect  was  now  be- 
fore me  of  that  change  in  my  domestic  life  which  anticipation  always 
presents  in  glowing  colors,  and  which  to  me  in  its  consummation  real- 
ized all  the  happiness  my  sanguine  imagination  had  painted. 

During  my  absence  on  the  Continent  the  young  actress,  Miss  Atkins, 
whose  innocence  and  beauty  had  made  so  deep  an  impression  on  me, 
had  removed  with  her  family  to  Dublin,  where  her  talents  were  appre- 
ciated, and  were  in  the  course  of  successful  development.  Our  corre- 
spondence continued  there,  and  became  more  frequent  and  more  inti- 
mate. A  sudden  and  heavy  calamity  befel  her  in  the  death  of  her 
father  and  brother,  who  were  drowned  with  most  of  the  passengers  in 


204  MAC  READY'S  REMINISCENCES.          CHAP.  XVII, 

the  Liverpool  packet,  wrecked  through  the  misconduct  of  the  captain 
in  a  calm  sea  at  midday  on  the  Skerries  Rocks.  Such  a  disaster  could 
not  fail  to  weigh  with  most  depressing  influence  on  her  spirits,  and  to 
dr:i\v  forth  the  tenderest  expressions  of  sympathy  and  condolence  from 
me.  The  actual  state  of  my  feelings  I  could  no  longer  conceal  from 
myself.  I  indulged  in  the  pleasing  dream  that  my  interest  in  this 
young  creature  was  limited  to  a  friendly  and  paternal  solicitude  for  her 
welfare  and  professional  advancement :  and  now  awoke  to  the  undeni- 
able conviction  that  love  was  the  inspiration  of  all  the  counsel  and 
assistance  I  had  rendered  her.  This  disclosure  was  no  longer  withheld 
from  her :  her  answer  to  my  declaration  and  proposals  was  acquies- 
cence in  all  my  views,  and  under  her  mother's  sanction  it  was  settled 
between  us  that  our  marriage  should  take  place  as  soon  as  possible 
compatibly  with  the  arrangements  to  which  I  was  bound.  It  is  but 
simple  justice  to  her  beloved  memory  to  repeat  the  truth  that,  although 
in  a  worldly  sense  I  might  have  formed  a  more  advantageous  connec- 
tion, I  could  not  have  met  with  qualities  to  compare  with  the  fond 
affection,  the  liveliness,  and  simple  worth  that  gave  happiness  to  so 
many  years  of  my  life. 

My  country  engagements  occupied  my  whole  summer,  and  though 
almost  every  night  was  given  to  acting,  and  every  morning  to  rehears- 
ing, it  was  the  willing  and  remunerative  labor  of  a  captive  released 
from  most  galling  shackles  in  my  emancipation  from  my  Covent 
Garden  bondage.  My  course  lay  through  Swansea  to  Birmingham 
and  Leicester ;  thence  to  Leeds,  where  I  was  most  hospitably  enter- 
tained by  a  family  of  the  name  of  Wilkinson.  Their  house,  a  very 
handsome  one,  was  at  a  short  distance  from  the  town,  situated  pict- 
uresquely in  well-laid-out  grounds.  Night  and  morning  their  car- 
riage was  at  my  disposal  to  convey  me  to  and  from  the  theater,  which 
was  crowded  every  evening.  To  my  great  satisfaction  I  now  received 
overtures  from  Elliston,  and  our  negotiation  was  agreeably  concluded 
by  my  acceptance  of  his  offer  of  £20  per  night  for  the  ensuing  Drury 
Lane  season. 

From  Leeds  to  Newcastle,  where  I  next  halted,  was  a  continuation  of 
my  productive  labors,  easily  and  pleasantly  made,  but  an  engagement 
I  had  entered  into  at  Southampton  for  the  following  week,  and  which  I 
could  not  induce  the  managers  to  alter,  subjected  me  to  journeys 
which  railroads  have  smoothed  down  to  a  few  hours'  trip,  but  which  in 
the  days  of  posting  were  a  very  serious  matter.  At  Southampton  I 
had  to  act  four  nights,  and  then  return  northward  as  far  as  Montrose. 
This  stretch  required  some  management.  I  therefore  left  my  carriage 
and  servant  at  Newcastle,  taking  the  mail  to  London,  and  on  to  South- 
ampton, where  I  acted  to  overflowing  houses  four  nights.  A  post- 
chaise  was  at  the  stage-door  of  the  theater  there  on  Thursday  night, 
in  which,  after  acting  in  both  play  and  entertainment,  I  set  out  for 
London,  where  I  arrived  in  good  time  on  Friday  morning.  My  day 
in  London  was  entirely  occupied  with  business,  and  at  half-past  eight 
at  night  I  took  my  seat  again  in  the  mail  for  Newcastle.  There  my 


1822-23.  THE  RESCUED  CHILD.  205 

servant,  according  to  the  directions  left  with  him,  had  my  carriage 
drawn  up  to  the  door  of  the  Queen's  Head  Hotel,  and  stepping  out  of 
the  mail  into  it  on  Sunday  morning,  I  continued,  by  dint  of  bribes  to 
the  postilions,  my  journey  a-head  of  the  mail  through  Edinburgh  to 
Montrose,  where  I  arrived  in  time  to  go  to  the  rehearsal  of  "  King 
Richard  III."  at  two  o'clock  on  Monday,  acting  the  part  in  good  spirits 
the  same  evening.  I  am  thus  particular  in  showing  that  I  had  no  op- 
portunity of  seeing  newspapers  (which  were  neither  so  numerous  nor 
so  cheap  as  they  now  are),  nor  of  knowing  what  was  passing  in  the 
world  beyond  the  track  of  my  carriage- wheels.  A  night's  performance 
in  a  provincial  theater  usually  absorbed  my  whole  day.  My  rehearsals, 
to  which  I  gave  the  strictest  attention,  both  in  regard  to  my  own  char- 
acter and  those  of  the  players  concerned  with  me,  detained  me  daily 
at  the  theater  from  ten  or  eleven  till  one  or  two  o'clock.  My  very 
moderate  dinner  was  necessarily  followed  by  partial  rest  to  recruit  my 
spirits  after  the  wearying,  depressing  business  of  rehearsing  ;  and  what 
might  remain  of  the  afternoon  was  generally  employed  in  reading  or 
thinking  over  the  character  I  had  to  represent.  I  certainly  so  far 
devoted  myself  to  my  art,  that  I  suffered  no  call  of  pleasure  to  inter- 
fere with  it. 

On  the  Tuesday  morning  after  the  performance  of  "Richard"  at 
Montrose,  the  manager,  Mr.  Ryder,  calling  at  my  hotel  to  inquire  after 
me,  told  me  he  had  just  parted  from  the  editor  of  the  local  paper,  who 
had  been  loud  in  his  praise  of  my  acting,  but  had^a  "difficulty  in  rec- 
onciling my  portraiture  of  such  a  villain  as  Richard  III.  with  the 
noble  acts  of  my  life."  On  inquiring  to  what  he  alluded,  "  Oh,  Sir," 
replied  Mr.  Ryder,  "  he  was  so  excited  by  the  account  of  your  rescuing 
that  child  from  the  fire  !  "  "  Good  heavens,"  I  exclaimed,  "  how  came 
that  story  here  ?  "  "  Why,  Sir,  it  was  in  the  "  Courier."  "  Oh,  pray," 
said  I,  "  beg  of  him  to  contradict  it."  "  Why,  Sir,  he  has  copied  it 
into  his  own  paper  of  to-day !"  It  seems,  as  I  afterwards  learned, 
that  the  editor  of  the  Southampton  paper  had  seen  the  magazine,  of 
which  I  have  given  an  account,  and,  in  eulogizing  my  performances, 
appended  this  story  of  "the  child"  to  his  critique.  My  friend  Mud- 
ford,  editor  of  the  "  Courier,"  delighted  to  meet  with  an  adventure  in 
my  life  so  creditable,  as  he  thought,  to  me,  gave  it  extensive  publicity 
by  transferring  it  to  the  columns  of  the  "  Courier,"  the  paper,  at  that 
time,  of  the  widest  circulation  in  the  country.  In  consequence,  and  in 
spite  of  my  frequent  contradictions,  I  have  been  haunted  through  my 
life  by  the  apparition  of  this  romantic  tale,  which  every  now  and  then 
would  find  its  way  again  into  print  to  my  inexpressible  annoyance. 
How  the  romance  (first  printed  by  the  editor  of  the  magazine  in  May, 
1821)  got  birth,  I  have  vainly  tasked  my  brain  to  discover  and  never 
could  divine,  unless  it  arose  from  some  incorrect  version  of  the  two 
children  rescued  from  the  falling  house  in  Newcastle,  magnified  and 
exaggerated  by  each  succeeding  narrator  like  the  story  of  "  The  Three 
Black  Crows." 

My  engagement  with  Ryder  lay  through  Dundee,  Arbroath,  and 


206  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.          CHAP.  XVII. 

Perth,  places  interesting  to  me  as  recalling  the  early  incidents  and 
growth  of  that  acquaintance  that  had  now  ripened  into  an  attachment 
which  gave  almost  daily  employment  to  my  pen  in  my  double  charac- 
ter of  tutor  and  lover.  In  my  southward  course  I  made  my  way  to 
Glasgow  in  order  to  pay  a  visit  to  Knowles  and  discuss  with  him  the 
scenes  he  had  completed  and  those  projected  of  "  Caius  Gracchus," 
which  was  to  be  forwarded  to  Elliston  at  Drury  Lane  with  all  dis- 
patch. Dumfries,  Carlisle,  Whitehaven,  and  Kendal  were  taken  in 
my  route,  where  I  repeated  to  crowded  audiences  the  same  characters, 
but  with  appurtenances  and  supporters  that  frequently  brought  the 
performance  to  the  verge  of  the  burlesque  and  sometimes  overpassed 
it.  On  such  occasions,  wanting  the  patient  and  philosophic  indiffer- 
ence of  many  of  my  craft,  I  could  never  dissever  myself  from  the  hu- 
miliating sense  of  at  least  a  temporary  connection  with  the  perpe- 
trators of  the  miserable  make-shifts  that  often  turned  the  spectators 
from  grave  to  gay,  exciting  laughter  where  the  poet  had  prepared 
some  of  his  most  striking  effects.  One  of  the  most  ludicrous  attempts 
to  follow  out  the  stage  directions  of  the  author  at  the  least  possible  ex- 
pense that  I  ever  had  the  ill-luck  to  witness  was  at  Kendal.  The  corps 
dramatique  arrived  in  the  town  too  late  for  the  rehearsal  of  "  Vir- 
ginius,"  and  I  had  to  undergo  during  the  two  first  acts  a  succession  of 
annoyances  in  the  scenic  deficiencies  and  in  the  inaccuracies  of  the 
players.  My  unhappy  temper  was  severely  tried  under  the  repeated 
mortifications  I  experienced,  but  in  the  third  act  of  the  play,  where 
Siccius  Dentatus  should  be  discovered  on  a  bier  with  a  company  of 
soldiers  mourning  over  it,  I  saw  the  old  man,  who  represented  the 
Roman  Achilles,  lying  on  the  ground,  and  two  men  standing  near. 
This  was  too  absurd ;  the  body  having  to  be  borne  off  in  sight  of  the 
audience.  I  positively  refused  to  go  on.  "  Oh,  pray,  sir,"  urged  the 
manager,  "  go  on :  the  men  have  rehearsed  the  scene,  and  you  will 
find  it  all  right."  In  vain  I  represented  that  the  men  "  could  not 
carry  off  the  old  man."  "  Oh,  yes,  indeed,  sir,"  reiterated  the  man- 
ager, "  they  perfectly  understand  it."  There  was  nothing  for  it  but 
submission.  After  some  delay  the  scene  was  drawn  up  and  disclosed 
the  three  as  described.  On  I  went  and  uttered  my  lamentation  over 
the  prostrate  veteran,  but  when  I  gave  the  order,  "  Take  up  the  body, 
bear  it  to  the  camp,"  —  to  my  agony  and  horror  the  two  men,  stoop- 
ing down,  put  each  an  arm  under  the  shoulder  of  the  dead  Dentatus, 
raised  him  upon  his  feet,  he  preserving  a  corpse-like  rigidity,  his  eyes 
closed,  and  his  head  thrown  back,  and  arm-in-arm  the  trio  marched  off 
at  the  opposite  side  of  the  stage  amid  roars  of  laughter  from  the  con- 
vulsed spectators.  I  need  not  observe  how  difficult  it  was  for  audi- 
ence or  actor  to  recover  their  serenity  after  such  a  travestie. 

Two  or  three  days  were  at  my  disposal  to  visit  the  Lake  country, 
affording  me  views  of  Ullswater,  Keswick,  the  ascent  of  Skiddaw,  and 
a  search  for  the  Cataract  of  Lodore,  which  I  found  with  scarcely  a  drop 
of  water  in  it.  But  my  visit  to  Rydal,  even  had  I  missed  the  beau- 
ties of  this  romantic  region,  would  have  been  worth  a  journey,  since 


1822-23.  VISIT  TO  WORDSWORTH.  207 

it  gave  me  an  introduction  to  the  poet  whose  works  had  been  so  long 
my  study  and  delight.  It  was  afternoon  when  I  called  at  Rydal 
Mount,  and  sent  in  my  card.  Mrs.  Wordsworth  and  his  sister  re- 
ceived me.  Wordsworth  was  alone  in  the  dining-room,  with  the  blinds 
down  to  relieve  his  eyes,  from  the  weakness  of  which  he  was  suffering. 
He  welcomed  me  very  cordially,  and  as  I  had  no  objection  to  the 
gloom  of  the  apartment,  he  talked  long  and  most  pleasantly,  till,  learn- 
ing that  I  was  on  my  way  to  Ambleside,  whither  I  had  sent  on  the 
carriage,  he  proposed  accompanying  me.  His  son  joined  us  on  our 
way,  and  few  walks  have  been  more  agreeable  to  me  or  more  memor- 
able than  that.  He  talked  much  ;  and  much  of  his  own  poetry,  and 
in  me  had  a  ready  and  delighted  listener.  I  recollect  his  sonorous 
repetition  of  lines  not  then  published,  which  have  since  appeared  in 
print,  that  impressed  themselves  on  my  memory : 

"  Action  is  transitory  —  a  step,  a  blow, 
The  motion  of  a  muscle  —  this  way  or  that  — 
'T  is  done  ;  and  in  the  after  vacancy 
We  wonder  at  ourselves  like  men  betrayed."  1 

I  inquired  of  him  whether  the  beautiful  poem  on  the  Yew  Tree  re 
lated  to  any  real  person,  but  he  said  it  was  purely  imaginative.     I 
think  he  repeated  from  a  little  pamphlet  he  gave  me  on  the  Lake 
scenery  those  lines  on  Kilchurn  Castle  in  Loch  Awe  : 

"Child  of  loud-throated  war!  the  mountain  stream 
Roars  in  thy  hearing  :  but  thy  hour  of  rest 
Is  come,  and  thou  art  silent  in  thine  age." 

As  we  passed  I  ordered  my  dinner  at  an  inn  at  Ambleside,  and  wo 
continued  our  walk  to  the  lake,  where  we  took  boat,  and  his  son  and 
I  pulled  down  towards  the  farther  end  and  back,  Wordsworth,  like  the 
pastor  in  his  "  Excursion,"  holding  our  attention  with  his  remarks  on 
the  beauty  of  the  evening  and  the  scenery.  '  They  sat  with  me  whilst 
I  dined  at  the  inn,  and  returning  at  twilight  with  me  in  the  carriage 
to  Rydal  Mount,  I  took  my  leave  of  them  there.  Wordsworth 
wished  me  very  much  to  call  on  Southey  at  Keswick,  but  the  evening 
was  too  far  advanced ;  my  furlough  had  expired,  and  I  had  to  rise 
with  the  very  early  morning  to  make  my  way  to  York,  where  my  ex- 
cellent friend  Mansel,  one  of  the  few  in  this  profession  entitled  to  the 
distinction  of  a  "  thorough  gentleman,"  was  expecting  me  to  act  in  his 
theater  during  the  festival  week. 

This  was  the  first  occasion  of  the  Minster  having  been  appropriated 
to  the  performance  of  an  oratorio :  Catalani,  Mrs.  Salmon,  Deborah 
Travis,  Braham,  and  all  the  elite  of  the  musical  world  appearing  in 
the  orchestra.  On  no  occasion  that  I  can  remember  have  I  listened 
with  more  enrapt  delight  to  the  strains  of  Handel  and  Haydn,  with 
which  the  grandeur  and  beauty  of  this  majestic  edifice  seemed  so  per- 

1  The  passage  commencing  with  these  lines  was  first  printed  as  a  motto  to  the 
"  White  Doe  of  Rylstone."  It  afterwards  appeared  in  its  place  in  "  The  Border- 
ers," a  drama,  in  the  last  published  volume  of  Wordsworth  s  poems.  —  ED. 


208  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.          CHAP.  XVII. 

fectly  to  harmonize.  By  some  it  may  be  deemed  a  species  of  heresy 
to  regard  these  noble  temples,  our  cathedrals,  as  ill-calculated  for  the 
service  of  Protestant  worship.  It  is,  however,  indisputable  that  the 
voice  of  the  preacher  or  reader  can  rarely  reach  without  violent  effort 
through  their  vast  expanse,  and  in  consequence  only  a  portion  of 
them,  the  chancel,  is  reserved  for  divine  service  ;  but  in  this  perform- 
ance of  sacred  music  every  note  of  the  vocalist  and  the  finest  tone  of 
the  instruments  are  distinctly  heard  at  the  farthest  extremity  of  the 
galleries,  that  raise  the  auditor  nearly  to  the  roof  of  the  building  at  its 
most  distant  range.  Not  only  the  powerful  voice  of  Catalan!  and  the 
silvery  organ  of  Mr.  Salmon,  but  the  syllabic  utterance  of  Deborah 
Travis  as  she  warbled  the  hymn  of  "  Adeste  fideles  "  made  its  way 
distinctly  to  the  very  remotest  corner  of  the  stately  edifice.  The 
streets  swarmed  with  visitors  and  the  theater  was  nightly  crowded,  so 
that  in  all  ways  I  profited  ;  and  my  friend  and  host,  Mansel  was  en- 
riched by  his  speculation. 

A  fortnight's  performances  at  Liverpool  and  Manchester  brought 
me  to  the  end  of  my  summer's  country  engagements,  my  appearance  at 
Drury  Lane  being  fixed  for  Monday,  October  13th,  1823,  in  the  char- 
acter of  Virginius.  Why  there  should  be  a  preference  between  two 
theaters  of  the  same  size  and  in  the  same  city  not  one  hundred  yards 
apart,  it  does  not  seem  difficult  to  understand,  for  in  that  little  distance 
there  was  a  great  difference.  All  had  been  long  familiar  to  me  at 
Covent  Garden ;  with  the  stage,  the  greenroom,  and  the  actors  I  was, 
as  it  were,  at  home.  At  Drury  Lane  everything  and  everybody  was 
strange  to  me.  There  was  besides  a  want  of  regularity  and  attention 
behind  the  scenes,  and  of  regard  to  strict  good  manners  in  the  green- 
room, that  made  me  feel  myself  like  the  citizen  of  another  community. 
I  was  in  consequence  nervous  and  unusually  anxious :  but  my  old 
maxim  was  present  to  me,  to  "  do  my  best  in  whatever  I  might  have 
to  do,"  and  with  this  resolution  I  entered  on  the  scene  and  met  with 
such  a  reception  from  an  overflowing  house  as  gave  a  quickening  en- 
ergy to  my  endeavors,  and  in  the  crowning  plaudits  of  the  audience 
assured  me  of  my  position  in  their  favor.  "  Hamlet,"  "  Macbeth," 
"  Rob  Roy,"  and  "  Leontes  "  had  their  various  repetitions  to  crowded 
houses,  with  a  melodrama  called  the  "  Cataract  of  the  Ganges,"  in 
which  real  water  and  real  horses  were  introduced  as  very  attractive 
adjuncts. 

My  sister,  who  had  passed  the  summer  with  different  friends  in  the 
country,  met  me  on  my  arrival  in  town  at  our  lodgings  in  Conduit 
Street,  and  it  was  of  course  a  matter  of  primary  necessity  to  break  to 
her  my  engagement  with  my  Catherine.  Women  have  an  intuitive 
penetration  in  affairs  of  the  heart,  that  our  less  fine  perceptions  were 
often  blinded  to.  The  interest  with  which  I  had  always  spoken  of 
this  innocent  girl  had  a  significance  in  her  eyes  that  I  had  not  antici- 
pated, and,  though  a  little  startled,  she  was  less  surprised  than  I  ex- 
pected when  I  imparted  to  her  my  intention  of  marrying  Miss  Atkins. 
My  Catherine,  in  parting  with  her  mother,  whose  friends  and  relatives 


1822-23.  SISTER  AND  INTENDED.  209 

were  in  Scotland,  had  taken  up  her  temporary  abode  at  Worthing  as 
a  retired  quiet  watering-place,  where  she  could  await  the  promised 
visit  of  my  sister  and  myself,  which  depended  entirely  on  the  Drury 
Lane  arrangements.  My  sister,  who  was  indeed  a  devoted  friend,  had 
proposed,  that  Catherine,  as  her  guest,  should  spend  some  weeks  with 
us  in  London  previous  to  our  marriage,  in  order  to  improve  their  mut- 
ual acquaintance  and  cement  their  friendship.  All  parties  were  grat- 
ified by  this  proposal,  and  the  opportunity  for  our  journey  soon  oc- 
curred. At  the  request  of  Mrs.  Glover  I  consented  to  act  Virginius 
at  Brighton  for  her  daughter's  benefit.  On  this  our  plan  was  formed 
for  my  sister  to  take  her  seat  with  me  in  the  carriage  to  Worthing, 
and  after  her  introduction  to  my  betrothed,  we  were  to  go  in  company 
to  Brighton,  and  the  next  day  return  altogether  to  London. 

It  is  Byron's  record,  that  the  memory  of  sorrow  is  "  a  sorrow  still," 
and  it  is  but  too  true  that  events  will  happen  in  our  lives  so  painful 
that  their  very  remembrance  is  a  sadness.  My  sister,  I  have  no  doubt, 
through  the  exaggerating  and  deceptive  medium  of  sisterly  partiality, 
believed  that  she  saw  in  me  merits  far  beyond  any  title  I  could  make 
to  them,  and  would  have  thought  a  Sophia  Western,  or  indeed  a  para- 
gon, "  formed  of  one  entire  and  perfect  chrysolite,"  not  above  my  pre- 
tensions. To  some  such  affectionate  extravagance  of  judgment  I  must 
refer,  to  account  for  the  distressing  issue  of  this  fondly  expected  meet- 
ing. Unmistakable  disappointment,  indeed  repulsion,  was  expressed 
in  my  sister's  look  and  manner  as  she  took  Catherine's  hand.  No 
word  in  consequence  was  interchanged  between  them.  Disconcerted 
and  distressed  as  I  was,  my  endeavors  to  reason  with  one  or  console 
the  other  were  alike  unavailing.  The  day  was  one  of  the  most 
wretched  in  my  whole  life.  It  was  not  possible  to  alter  the  plan  de- 
termined on.  We  were  obliged  to  go  forward  to  Brighton,  and  my 
place  in  the  carriage  was  between  the  two  dearest  beings  in  existence, 
alienated  from  each  other,  as  I  feared,  by  a  demonstration  of  aversion, 
uncontrollable,  and  too  probably  mutual.  Arrived  at  the  Clarence 
Hotel,  Brighton,  my  sister  retired  to  her  room  and  lay  till  late  in  the 
afternoon  on  her  bed,  drowned  in  tears.  My  poor  Catherine  was  in 
little  better  plight,  whilst  I,  half-distracted  and  bewildered  in  my  en- 
deavors at  reconciliation,  could  be  but  a  sorry  comforter.  Towards 
evening  in  an  interview  with  my  sister  she  avowed  the  utter  disap- 
pointment of  the  expectations  my  description  of  Catherine  had  led 
her  to  expect,  but  was  strenuous  in  agreeing  to  the  necessity  of  keeping 
my  plighted  word.  She,  however,  strongly  urged  the  postponement 
of  our  marriage,  which  would  afford  opportunity  to  Catherine  to  con- 
tinue the  studies  in  which  she  had  been  lately  engaged ;  Catherine 
herself,  she  was  confident,  with  the  improvement  she  would  make  in 
the  interim,  would  be  happier  in  becoming  my  wife  at  a  period  a  little 
more  distant.  To  this  proposal,  humbling  to  her  pride  and  trying  as 
it  was,  the  gentle  girl  assented  without  murmur  or  reserve. 

It  may  be  thought  I  might  have  taken  a  more  authoritative  tone, 
and  in  justice  to  the  future  partner  of  my  life  might  have  resisted  a 


210  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.         CHAP.  XVIII. 

suggestion  that  tended,  as  a  hope  deferred,  to  make  the  heart  sick ; 
but  rny  sister  was  no  common  friend  to  me,  bound  to  me  in  indissolu- 
ble bonds,  to  whom  I  had  always  looked  to  partake  my  fortunes,  and 
on  whose  opinion  and  advice  I  had  the  firmest  reliance. 

I  had  to  hurry  to  the  theater,  where  I  repeated  by  rote  the  speeches 
of  Virginius,  my  harassed  feelings  not  allowing  me  to  give  a  thought 
to  the  words  I  was  uttering,  or  even  to  have  an  ear  for  the  applauses 
that  followed  them.  Never  on  any  occasion  of  my  life  was  my  mind 
so  absent  from  the  character  I  had  to  portray,  for  among  those  days 
marked  in  my  life's  vicissitudes  by  most  agitating  anxieties  I  can 
reckon  few,  if  any,  more  melancholy,  more  miserable  than  this.  But 
night,  with  rest,  brought  composure  to  our  ruffled  spirits,  and  next 
morning,  pacified,  if  not  quite  conciliated,  we  returned  to  Conduit 
Street,  each  fortified  with  the  resolution  to  make  the  best  of  the  time 
before  us.  My  sister  lent  her  best  assistance  in  aiding  me  in  my 
duties  of  tutorage  to  my  lovely  and  docile  Griselda,  and  certainly 
rendered  essential  service  by  her  co-operation  ;  for  not  only  in  acquire- 
ment from  study  but  even  in  outward  appearance  did  my  dear  pupil 
confirm  by  most  delightful  evidence  the  opinion  I  had  always  main- 
tained of  her  wonderful  aptness  for  improvement. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

1823-1824.  —  Knowlcs's  "  Cains  Gracchus  "  —  Ugo  Foscolo  —  Ke.in  declines  to 
act  with  Macrcady  —  Theodore  Hook  —  Hostility  of  part  of  the  London  press 
—  Purchase  of  the  Granby  Hotel  at  Harrogate  —  Letter  from  sister  to  future 
wife. 

ON  the  18th  of  November,  1823,  Knowles's  tragedy  of  "  Caius 
Gracchus,"  which  had  been  some  time  in  rehearsal,  was  produced. 
This  play,  although  not  one  of  the  best  from  the  gifted  author's  pen, 
abounds  in  passages  of  lofty  thought,  and  is  marked  by  the  impress  of 
liis  genius  with  that  truth  of  character  so  constantly  observable  in  his 
writings.  But  among  scenes  of  striking  power,  pathetic  situations, 
and  bursts  of  heroic  passion,  there  is  great  inequality.  Whole  pages 
are  given  to  the  cavilings  of  the  plebeians,  who  in  their  contentions 
neither  sustain  the  dignity  of  tragedy  nor  recall  the  idea  of  the  Roman 
people.  Indeed  the  mob,  though  advancing  the  action  but  little,  is  too 
prominent  an  agent,  whilst  the  familiar  language  of  their  altercations 
often  descends  to  vulgarity.  But  in  the  poet's  conception  and  draft 
of  Cornelia  we  see  before  us  the  mother  of  the  Gracchi,  the  ideal  of 
the  Roman  matron.  She  gazes  on  her  offspring  with  all  a  mother's 
fondness,  but  with  an  unflinching  eye  looks  through  the  transitory 
brightness  of  the  present  to  the  darker  destiny  that  awaits  the  future; 


1823-24.  "CAIUS  GRACCHUS."  211 

and  steels  her  soul  to  the  inevitable  sacrifice  of  her  beloved  son  upon 
the  altar  of  his  country. 

"  I  did  rear  my  boys 

Companions  for  the  Gods  !     Why  wonder  I 

If  they  will  go  to  them  ere  other  men  ? 

Many  a  time  when  they  have  stood  before  me  — 

Such  things  as  mothers  seldom  look  upon  — 

And  I  have  seemed  to  feed  on  them  with  mine  eyes, 

My  thoughts  have  pondered  o'er  their  bier,  where  they 

Lay  stiff  and  cold  !    I  would  not  see  them  so 

If  I  could  help  it,  but  I  would  not  help  it 

To  see  them  otherwise  and  other  men." 

When,  elevated  to  the  tribuneship,  Caius  meets  and  kneels  before  her, 
the  prayer  she  offers  up  is  worthy  of  the  daughter  of  Scipio : 

"  May  the  great  Gods,  who  crown'd  thee  with  this  triumph, 
Instruct  thee  so  to  use  it  as  to  bless 
Thy  country  !     With  a  firm  and  mighty  hand 
May'st  thou  uphold  the  laws,  and  keep  them  ever 
Above  the  proud  man's  violence,  and  within 
The  poor  man's  reach.     So  shall  thy  mother  —  Eome  — 
Acknowledge  thee  her  son,  and  teach  thy  name 
To  the  applauding  tongues  of  after  ages  !  " 

How  entirely  the  motive  power  of  the  hero's  acts  was  derived  from  the 
superior  mind  of  the  mother  is  beautifully  instanced  in  the  remonstrance 
he  makes  to  her  when  her  fortitude  is  on  the  point  of  giving  way  to 
her  affection : 

"  Remember  you  Misenum,  mother  ? 
Once  from  its  promontory  we  beheld 
A  galley  in  a  storm ;  and  as  the  bark 
Approached  the  fatal  shore,  could  well  discern 
The  features  of  the  crew,  with  horror  all 
Aghast,  save  one.    Alone  he  strove  to  guide 
The  prow,  erect  amidst  the  horrid  war 
Of  winds  and  waters  raging.     With  one  hand 
He  ruled  the  hopeless  helm  —  the  other  strain'd 
The  fragment  of  a  shiver'd  sail ;  his  brow 
The  while  bent  proudly  on  the  scowling  surge, 
At  which  he  scowl'd  again.     The  vessel  struck  ! 
One  man  alone  bestrode  the  wave,  and  rode 
The  foaming  courser  safe  !     'T  was  he,  the  same  ! 
You  clasped  your  Caius  in  your  arms  and  cried, 
'  Look,  look,  my  son  !     The  brave  man  ne'er  despairs, 
And  lives  where  cowards  die  ! '     I  would  but  make 
Due  profit  of  your  lesson." 

But  though  instances  of  power  and  pathos  may  be  multiplied  from  the 
poet's  page,  yet  it  must  be  admitted  there  is  a  want  of  sustained  pro- 
gressive interest  in  the  plot,  the  fluctuation  of  party  triumph  not  very 
actively  agitating  the  hopes  and  fears  of  the  auditors.  The  death  of 
Gracchus,  stabbing  himself  with  the  dagger  concealed  under  the  folds 
of  his  toga,  is  nobly  conceived,  and  was  startling  in  its  effect.  In  Caius 
the  passion  of  the  more  energetic  parts  and  the  tenderness  of  the  do- 
mestic interviews  laid  strong  hold  on  my  sympathies,  and  I  gave  my- 
self to  the  study  of  the  part  with  no  ordinary  alacrity  and  ardor.  In 


212  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XVIIL 

few  original  dramas  had  my  individual  success  been  more  decisive ;  and 
even  with  the  inefficient  support  it  received  —  for  Terry  was  the  only 
artist  that  really  rendered  aid  to  it  —  the  play  would  have  enjoyed  a 
much  longer  run  but  for  the  discreditable  interposition  of  the  stage- 
manager,  who,  from  the  inability  of  his  wife,  an  actress  of  but  moderate 
power,  to  grasp  a  character  that  required  the  commanding  genius  of 
a  Siddons,  insisted  on  its  withdrawal.1 

From  the  theater,  with  the  cheers  of  the  audience  and  the  congratu- 
lations of  friends  still  ringing  in  my  ears,  I  adjourned  with  Talfourd, 
Wallace,  Procter,  and  other  friends  to  Joy's  coffee-house,  our  usual 
retreat  after  such  excitement,  and  there  prolonged  our  festivity  to  a 
very  late,  or  rather  early,  hour  in  libations  of  champagne-punch  to  the 
continued  prosperous  career  of"  Caius  Gracchus."  The  morning  hours 
were  hastening  on  when  I  reached  Conduit  Street,  and  a  severe  head- 
ache, the  consequence  of  my  imprudence,  kept  me  in  bed  until  late  in 
the  day.  It  was  about  ten  o'clock  that  my  servant  awoke  me,  present- 
ing me,  to  my  great  surprise  and  discomfort,  with  the  card  of  my  friend 
Ugo  Foscolo,  who  wished  to  speak  with  me  on  very  urgent  business. 
On  being  informed  that  I  was  still  in  bed,  and  could  not  well  receive 
him  before  noon,  he  posted  off  in  a  violent  hurry  to  our  common  friend 
Wallace,  from  whom  I  afterwards  learned  the  object  of  his  visit,  which 

was  to  ask  me  to  be  the  bearer  of  a  hostile  message  from  him  to  G 

of  whom  I  have  before  made  mention,  and  of  whom  I  had  lost  sight 

for  many  months.     G ,  to  whom  he,  Foscolo,  had  given  an  asylum 

in  his  house,  and  supplied  with  employment  that  was  a  means  of  liveli- 
hood to  him,  had  seduced  one  of  the  maid-servants  of  Foscolo,  an  exceed- 
ingly pretty  young  woman,  in  whom  Foscolo  took  particular  interest. 
His  Italian  blood  was  set  on  fire  by  the  ungrateful  return  of  his  un- 
worthy guest,  and  he  commissioned  Wallace  to  be  the  bearer  of  his 
cartel.  The  time  and  conditions  of  the  meeting  were  arranged  be- 
tween Wallace  and  G 's  second ;  upon  which  Foscolo  stated  his 

determination  to  Wallace  that  the  combat  should  be  a  entrance.  Wal- 
lace on  this  distinctly  told  him  that  on  such  an  understanding  he  could 

1  From  the  Morning  Herald.  —  November  19th,  1823,  Drury  Lane,  "  Caius  Grac- 
chus."—  "  The  main  support  of  the  play,  as  might  be  expected,  was  Macready's 
Caius  Gracchus ;  and  when  we  say  that  it  was  a  piece  of  acting  not  at  all  inferior 
to  his  Virginias,  and  that  the  passages  of  conjugal  tenderness  and  emotion  were  as 
true  to  nature  in  the  present  character  as  those  of  paternal  feeling  in  the  former, 
we  shall  have  said  enough  perhaps  to  satisfy  even  his  most  ardent  admirers.  But 
if  we  proceed  to  more  particular  discrimination,  we  must  point  to  the  scene  with 
his  mother,  in  which  he  extorts  her  reluctant  approbation  to  his  going  forth  to  the 
assembly  of  the  people  to  vindicate  his  Tribumtian  laws,  and  the  final  scene,  in 
which  he  quietly  buries  the  poniard  in  his  heart  under  the  concealment  of  his  robe. 
In  both  of  these  he  exhibited  all  the  effect  of  genuine  acting  without  any  of  the 
trick  or  ostentation  of  the  art.  In  the  former  in  particular  the  contrasted  quiet- 
ness and  mortified  submission  with  which  he  pronounced,  '  I  would  have  shown  I 
was  your  son  if  you  would  have  let  me,'  and  tue  dignified  firmness  with  which,  in 
reply  to  his  mother's  inquiry,  '  If  I  lose  you  what  will  remain  to  me  ? '  he  ex- 
claims, '  My  monument ! '  were  very  finely,  the  latter  even  thrillingly,  expressive  ; 
and  the  manner  in  which  he  first  bows  down  his  head  in  pensive  determination, 
and  afterwards  lifts  it  up  in  farewell  resignation  to  the  Gods,  preparatory  to  the 
fatal  act,  was  not  less  powerfully  excitivc  of  the  noblest  sympathies." 


1823-24.  UGO  FOSCOLO.  213 

not  go  to  the  field  with  him,  that  his  honor  was  in  his  second's  hands, 
and  that  he  must  either  conform  to  the  usage  of  English  gentlemen  on 
such  occasions  or  find  some  other  friend.  Foscolo  was  of  course  ob- 
liged to  submit,  and  therefore,  when  on  the  ground,  as  he  could  not 
gratify  his  revenge  in  a  more  deadly  manner,  he  resorted  to  the  alter- 
native of  expressing  his  supreme  contempt  for  his  adversary  by  receiv- 
ing his  fire  without  deigning  to  discharge  his  own  pistol.  Upon  which 
Wallace  intimated  to  the  other  second  that  he  could  not  allow  his  friend 
to  remain  any  longer  on  the  ground,  and  the  parties  separated  without 

another  word.  There  would  be  every  reason  to  believe  that  G 

was  perfectly  insensible  to  the  romantic  disdain  of  his  high-minded 
antagonist.  A  very  little  time  sufficed  to  bring  to  a  close  his  reckless 
and  desperate  course  in  London.  The  forgery  of  a  bill  —  I  believe 
for  £500  on  the  house  of  Whitaker  and  Co.  —  obliged  him  to  fly  from 
justice,  and  he  soon  after  was  heard  of  as  a  passenger  on  board  a  packet- 
ship  from  Liverpool  to  New  York. 

Poor  Ugo  Foscolo  !  As  a  scholar,  poet,  novelist,  and  critic  he  en- 
joyed a  European  reputation.  In  his  social  relations  he  was  most 
amiable.  Born  of  a  noble  house  in  Venice,  he  had  served  under 
Napoleon,  and  for  one  season  had  been  the  lion  of  the  London  aris- 
tocracy ;  but  experience  has  taught  us  how  short  lived  is  such  a  dis- 
tinction, and  Foscolo  lived  to  feel  the  instability  of  friendships  based 
upon  temporary  popularity.  He  died  neglected,  if  not  forgotten,  in 
one  of  the  London  suburbs.  He  had  his  weaknesses  and  peculiarities 
—  who  is  exempt  from  them?  Personal  vanity  was  among  them. 
Very  plain  in  his  person,  it  was  the  exception  he  made  hi  his  admira- 
tion of  English  women,  to  their  endearing  qualities,  that  none  of  them 
could  be  brought  to  make  the  declaration,  "  Je  vous  aime  !  "  Though 
ordinarily  of  a  most  gentle  disposition,  he  was  liable  to  gusts  of  temper 
which  were  more  provocative  of  laughter  than  of  anger  among  his 
familiars.  He  was  a  great  chess-player,  but  the  loss  of  a  game  was 
too  much  for  his  equability.  His  customary  adversary  was  an  old 
friend  and  neighbor,  who,  knowing'  his  excitability,  always  took  this 
precaution  before  making  the  move  which  was  to  give  him  check-mate : 
he  would  shuffle  himself  half  out  of  his  chair,  getting  ready  for  a  start, 
and  as  he  moved  his  piece  on  the  board  and  muttered  "  Check-mate," 
rush  out  of  the  room  under  the  never-failing  expectation  of  hearing  the 
board  and  its  contents,  sent  by  the  hands  of  Foscolo,  come  rattling  after 
him.  "  Jacopo  Ortis  "  was  his  first  work,  and  that  at  once  established 
his  reputation.  He  published  his  tragedy  of  "  Ricciardetta  "  in  Lon- 
don, where  he  contributed  many  articles  to  the  "  Edinburgh  Review." 

One  object  in  this  Drury  Lane  engagement,  and  that  of  especial 
import,  on  which  the  manager  speculated,  was  the  association  of  Kean's 
magnetic  name  with  my  own  in  a  series  of  plays  agreed  on  between 
Elliston  and  myself,  viz  :  "  Venice  Preserved,"  "  Julius  CaBsar,"  "  King 
John,"  "  Jane  Shore,"  etc.  From  such  a  coalition  Elliston  anticipated 
a  long  and  most  productive  season.  But  although  he  raised  Kean's 
terms  on  this  occasion  from  £30  per  week  to  £20  per  night,  in  order 


214  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.         CHAP.  XVIIL 

to  remove  all  possible  ground  of  complaint,  Kean  remained  firm  in  his 
resolution  not  to  consent  to  the  proposed  combination.  He  paid  me, 
according  to  greenroom  report,  the  compliment  of  saying,  he  "  Did 
not  mind  Young,  but  he  would  not  act  with  Macready."  My  engage- 
ment was  in  consequence  so  far  a  disappointment  that  it  was  limited 
to  its  specified  number  of  nights, —  forty,  —  instead  of  being  extended 
as  was  hoped,  through  the  greater  part  of  the  season.  The  first  divis- 
ion of  those  nights  was  satisfactorily  concluded ;  and  till  the  month  of 
April,  1824,  when  the  second  would  commence,  and  hi  which  the  hope 
was  not  altogether  abandoned  that  Kean  would  yield  to  the  represen- 
tations of  the  management,  my  time  was  to  be  occupied  with  provin- 
cial engagements.  My  lodgings  were  given  up,  and  it  was  agreed  in 
our  little  home  council  that  it  would  be  best  for  my  Catherine  to  con- 
tinue the  prosecution  of  her  studies  in  the  family  of  a  respectable 
widow  lady  at  Kensington,  most  highly  recommended,  until  the  close 
of  my  Drury  Lane  engagement,  which  would  leave  me  with  sufficient 
holiday  to  insure  a  honeymoon,  and  perfect  freedom  from  business  to 
solemnize  most  happily  our  long-deferred  marriage. 

I  have  alluded  to  the  evil  influence  of  a  cabal  that  was  set  on  foot 
against  me  by  the  partisans  of  the  Covent  Garden  management.  From 
the  insidious  calumnies,  which  obtained  wide  circulation,  I  became  ex- 
posed to  the  systematic  hostility  of  a  great  part  of  the  London  press, 
from  which  I  suffered,  and  against  which  I  had  to  contend  for  several 
years.  The  originator  of  the  prejudice  with  which  I  had  to  struggle 
was  Mr.  Theodore  Hook,  a  man  of  ready  powers  of  sarcasm,  of  un- 
blushing effrontery,  with  a  quick  sense  of  the  humorous,  and  if  not 
witty,  was  possessed  of  smartness  that  made  a  very  near  approach  to 
wit.  On  the  occasion  of  my  appearance  this  season  at  Drury  Lane, 
,  when  all  the  papers  were  lavish  in  their  praise,  as  the  editor  of  the 
"  John  Bull "  he  reprobated  the  eulogistic  language  used  towards  me, 
but  was  willing  to  give  me  credit  for  my  humanity  in  rescuing  a  child 
from  the  fire  (Oh  !  that  child  !).  Unwilling  to  accept  unmerited  com- 
mendation, I  wrote  to  the  editor  of  the  "  John  Bull,"  disclaiming  all 
pretension  to  the  romantic  act  ascribed  to  me,  but  desirous  of  avoiding 
(as  I  have  always  been)  the  intrusion  of  my  name  in  reference  to  any 
personal  matter  on  the  public,  I  marked  my  letter  private.  Mr.  Hook 
took  advantage  of  this  to  state  in  a  subsequent  article  that  I  had  writ- 
ten to  him  in  perfect  agreement  with  his  opinions,  expressing  my  con- 
tempt for  and  disgust  at  the  adulatory  notice^s  that  my  friends  had  pub- 
lished. I  need  scarcely  say  how  shocked  and  pained  I  was  by  such  a 
statement,  which  must  make  enemies  of  those  who  in  their  indulgent 
estimation  of  my  performances  had  hitherto  sustained  and  befriended 
me. 

The  principle  that  actuated  this  gentleman  in  his  dealings  with  his 
fellow-men  is  not  to  be  mistaken.  Poor  Conway  allowed  himself  to 
be  the  victim  of  this  man's  abuse,  and,  wanting  in  strength  of  mind  to 
endure  the  sneers  and  derisive  personal  attacks  with  which  he  was 
constantly  assailed,  retired  from  the  stage,  which  afforded  him  a  re- 


1823-24.  PURCHASE  OF  THE   GRANBY  HOTEL.  215 

spectable  income,  and  which  could  ill  spare  the  degree  of  talent  he 
possessed.  Things  that  near  to  the  sight  look  large  become  diminished 
by  distance,  and  matters  that  have  importance  in  our  eyes  at  the  mo- 
ment sink  into  insignificance  with  the  lapse  of  time.  I  wonder  now  at 
my  own  sensitiveness  on  occasions  like  this,  but  this  is  the  player's 
weakness ;  his  reputation  lives  in  the  opinion  of  his  contemporaries, 
and  it  is  with  feverish  jealousy  that  he  watches  the  rise  and  fall  of  pub- 
lic favor.  In  my  own  case  there  was  an  injury  craftily  and  to  a  cer- 
tain point  successfully  inflicted ;  for  it  was  only  natural  that  men  of 
education,  as  the  contributors  to  the  English  press  are  known  to  be, 
should  feel  indignant  at  what  must  seem  iny  insolence  and  ingratitude. 
This  statement  set  abroad  together  with  some  false  and  libelous  asser- 
tions of  my  ill-treatment  of  dramatic  authors,  which,  written,  as  I  have 
good  reason  to  believe,  by  a  London  clergyman,  appeared  some  time 
after  in  "  Blackwood's  Magazine,"  excited  against  me,  as  might  be  ex- 
pected, a  hostile  spirit,  which  only  years  of  patient  and  persevering 
effort  enabled  me  to  live  down. 

Leaving  most  reluctantly  my  future  bride  in  her  strange  temporary 
abode  at  Kensington,  I  set  out  with  my  sister  about  the  middle  of  De- 
cember on  my  provincial  tour.  Our  course  was  to  Exeter,  Plymouth, 
and  Bristol,  from  whence  with  a  rich  harvest  we  proceeded  to  Dublin  ; 
here  was  a  long  engagement  before  me,  which  the  repetitions  of  "  Vir- 
ginius,"  and  the  frequent  performances  of  Cassius  in  "  Julius  Czesar," 
made  a  very  attractive  one.  Belfast  was  my  next  resort,  and  in  re- 
turning through  Dublin  Mr.  Harris  detained  me  for  one  more  repre- 
sentation of  Cassius  by  the  douceur  of  £50.  Our  route  lay  onward  to 
Manchester,  Blackburn,  Halifax,  Glasgow,  Hull,  York,  Newcastle-on- 
Tyne,  Sunderland,  Stamford,  each  of  which  places  contributed  liberal 
additions  to  my  banker's  account,  and  on  the  10th  of  April  we  were 
again  in  London,  where  the  remaining  nights  of  my  engagement  with 
Elliston  were  to  be  played  out.  Our  lodgings  were  taken  in  Morning- 
ton  Place,  then  a  suburban  row  of  houses  looking  over  the  fields 
towards  Highgate. 

In  looking  out  for  investments  for  my  little  savings  I  was  persuaded 
by  George  Robins,  the  famous  auctioneer,  to  bid  for  a  property  then 
advertised  by  him  for  sale,  the  Granby  Hotel  at  Harrogate,  a  large 
establishment,  with  offices  complete,  and  land  and  plantation  attached 
to  it.  He  recommended  the  purchase  for  £6,000,  though  I  had  not 
much  more  than  half  that  amount  to  dispose  of.  The  rest  was  left  on 
mortgage,  and  would  have  been  a  very  profitable  investment  if  I  had 
had  a  solicitor  faithful  to  my  interests  :  as  it  was  it  turned  out  rather 
an  indifferent  speculation.  Some  of  the  newspapers  diverted  them- 
selves and  their  readers  with  the  poor  joke  of  my  "  going  to  the  bar," 
as  the  owner  of  a  great  hotel ! 

Kean  persisting  in  his  refusal  to  appear  in  the  plays  with  me,  the 
repetition  of  the  parts  I  had  before  acted,  with  the  performance  of  the 
Duke  in  "Measure  for  Measure  "  (a  character  in  which  dignity  of  de- 
meanor and  lofty  declamation  are  the  chief  requisites),  brought  me  to 


216  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIX. 

the  end  of  my  engagement  on  the  23d  of  June,  1824,  in  the  part  of 
Cardinal  "VVolsey.  On  leaving  the  stage  I  hurried  on  my  clothes  and 
drove  rapidly  home,  to  prepare  for  an  early  rising  on  the  following 
morning.  My  term  of  penance  and  that  of  my  Catherine's  probation 
and  exemplary  patience  were  happily  accomplished,  and  the  morrow 
was  to  establish  her  as  the  future  mistress  of  my  home.  The  follow- 
ing letter  from  the  excellent  Archdeacon  of  London  met  me  on  my 
return  from  the  theater  : 

"  June  23d. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  shall  not  fail  to  be  in  readiness  for  you  at  a  quarter  past 
eight,  and  rejoice  much  to  be  connected  with  an  event  which  I  trust  will  be  fol- 
lowed by  every  blessing  which  your  kindest  friends  can  wish,  among  whose  num- 
ber pray  include,  Yours  faithfullv, 

•'  J.  W.  POTT." 

In  justice  to  the  beloved  memory  of  her  whose  affection  and  amiabil- 
ity shed  happiness  over  so  many  years  of  my  life,  and  not  less  to  the 
sage  counsel  of  my  dear  sister's  friendship,  I  copy  out  the  letter  ad- 
dressed to  her  a  few  days  before  our  marriage : 

"  Monday  Morning,  34  Mornington  Place. 

"MY  DEAR  CATHERINE,  —  I  have  not  yet  congratulated  you  upon  the  near 
approach  of  your  union  with  my  beloved  brother,  which  I  now  do  with  true  and 
heartfelt  sincerity,  and  with  the  most  ardent  wishes  for  the  happiness  of  you  both, 
and  I  feel  no  doubt  of  those  wishes  being  fulfilled  to  the  utmost.  You  once,  my 
dear  girl,  asked  me  '  if  I  loved  you  : '  it  was  an  abrupt  question,  and  I  made  you 
no  direct  answer,  nor  would  I,  till  I  could  do  it  with  sincerity  and  truth.  You  will 
not  (or  I  am  mistaken)  value  that  love  the  less  because  not  given  hastily.  Now 
you  may  ask  the  question  when  you  like  ;  but  you  need  not  ask  it :  I  do  love  you 
truly,  and  ever  shall,  whilst  you  make  happy  a  brother  so  very  dear  to  me.  Let 
me  no  longer  hear  myself  addressed  by  the  formal  title  of  Miss :  we  shall  soon  be 
sisters,  I  trust,  in  affection  as  well  as  name  —  then  call  me  Letitia. 

"  Adieu,  and  believe  me 

"  Ever  your  sincerely  affectionate 

"  LETITIA  MACKEADY." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

1824-1825.  —  Marriage  —  Wedding  tour  —  Kite-Carriage  on  Salisbury  plain  — 
Country  engagements  —  Drury  Lane  season  —  "Fatal  Dowry"  —  Severe  ill- 
ness —  "  William  Tell "  —  Tour  in  North  Wales  —  Cottage  at  Denbigh  — 
Country  engagements. 

THURSDAY,  June  24th,  1824,  the  day  long  looked  for,  was  at  last 
reached  —  a  day  consecrated  to  memory  by  the  years  of  home  endear- 
ments and  domestic  felicity  that  take  their  date  from  it.  My  friend 
Wallace  and  my  sister  accompanied  the  bride  to  St.  Pancras  Church, 
where  I  was  awaiting  with  my  solicitor,  Barker,  their  arrival.  The 
Archdeacon  was  of  course  punctual  in  his  kind  attendance,  and  with 
his  blessings,  on  the  conclusion  of  the  ceremony,  we  set  out  on  our 
short  wedding-tour.  At  Hounslow,  where  our  breakfast  had  been 


1824-25.  WEDDING   TOUR.  217 

ordered,  we  very  soon  arrived,  and  changed  our  bridal  dresses  for 
traveling  costume.  There  Wallace,  who  had  followed  our  carriage 
from  London,  took  leave  of  us. 

Through  what  varied  scenes,  what  fluctuations  of  feeling,  what  agi- 
tating events,  the  mind  has  to  travel  back  in  recurring  to  that  happy 
day !  Long  years  of  joys  and  sorrows  benignly  alternated  by  the 
Divine  Dispenser  !  "  The  web  of  our  life  is  of  a  mingled  yarn,"  and 
for  the  predominance  of  good  in  mine,  mainly  attributable,  under 
Heaven,  to  the  dear  partner  of  its  trials,  I  can  never  think  without 
emotions  of  the  deepest  gratitude. 

Wedding  tours  "offer  little  variety.  The  mind  is  so  absorbed  in  its 
own  ruminations,  its  consciousness  of  present  happiness,  its  anticipa- 
tions and  reflections,  that  external  objects  lose  much  of  their  interest. 
The  sunshine  we  carried  with  us  could  not  be  dimmed  by  the  morn- 
ing's heavy  rain  ;  and  a  bright  afternoon  was  hailed  by  us  as  an  omen 
of  our  future.  Our  route  lay  through  Basingstoke  to  Andover,  and 
the  next  day  through  Salisbury  to  Stonehenge.  Whilst  loitering  here 
in  contemplation  of  the  rugged  and  sublime  monuments  of  a  barbarous 
superstition  whose  rude  grandeur  rivets  the  gaze  of  the  beholder,  our 
attention  was  drawn  to  faint  sounds  as  of  distant  music,  that  grew 
louder,  as  if  advancing  towards  us  with  great  rapidity.  We  could  soon 
distinguish  the  notes  of  a  key-bugle  well  played,  and,  looking  out  in 
the  direction  from  whence  it  came,  perceived  a  small  dark  mass  moving 
down  the  incline  of  the  road  with  extreme  velocity.  As  it  came  more 
palpably  in  sight  we  perceived  it  to  be  a  rude  carriage,  or  rather  a 
square  box  on  four  wheels,  capable  of  holding  three  or  four  persons. 
As  we  stood  gazing  on  i'£s  rapid  course,  we  could  not  divine  by  what 
means  it  was  impelled,  till,  looking  up  into  the  sky,  we  saw  three  large 
kites  one  above  another  at  equal  distances,  to  which  strong  light  cords 
attached  the  vehicle.  It  came  up  to  where  we  were  standing  by  the 
Druidic  Temple.  Its  conductor  turned  its  side  to  the  draft  of  the 
kites,  and  having  fastened  in  the  earth  an  anchor  or  grappling-iron, 
drew  in  the  kites,  which  were  of  oiled  silk,  or  some  such  light  sub- 
stance, and  between  five  and  six  feet  in  height.  After  an  interesting 
examination  of  this  novel  locomotive,  which  recalled  Milton's  lines,  on 

"  The  barren  plains 
Of  Sericana,  where  Chineses  drive 
With  sails  and  wind  their  cany  wagons  light," 

and  some  conversation  with  the  gentleman  who  managed  it,  we  pro- 
ceeded on  our  journey. 

Five  years  afterwards,  traveling  from  Colchester  to  London,  and  * 
seated  with  my  brother  on  the  dickey  of  the  carriage,  we  met  and 
passed  this  very  same  kite-carriage ;  but  though  the  experiment  was 
perfectly  successful  in  those  two  instances,  I  am  not  aware  that  any 
public  notice  has  ever  been  taken  of  it. 

Our  course  lay  onward  to  Weston-super-Mare,  then  a  small  village 
with  inferior  accommodation,  now  a  very  handsome  and  populous 


218  .MAC READY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIX. 

watering-place.  We  passed  from  thence  to  Congresbury,  the  quirt 
beauty  of  which  little  rural  place  delighted  us  much,  and  detained  us 
till  a  professional  engagement  at  Taunton  compelled  me  to  return  to 
the  business  of  active  life.  My  time  from  this  point  was  given  to  the 
duties  of  my  profession.  Swansea  was  my  next  halt,  thence  to  ^lil- 
ford,  and  across  to  Waterford.  My  summer  was  spent  among  the 
different  theaters  of  Ireland  —  Cork,  Newry,  Belfast,  etc.,  during 
which  I  was  subject  to  a  succession  of  violent  colds,  that  laid  the  foun- 
dation of  an  illness  at  a  later  date  which  nearly  proved  fatal  to  me. 
Engagements  at  Liverpool,  Manchester,  Chester,  Shrewsbury,  Leices- 
ter, and  Sheffield  greatly  improved  my  finances,  and  brought  me  to 
Monday,  November  loth,  1824,  when  I  re-appeared  at  Drury  Lane  in 
the  character  of  Macbeth.  This  was  followed  by  Leontes,  Jaques, 
King  John,  and  Cardinal  Wolsey,  and  a  novelty  of  much  interest  in 
the  revival  of  Massinger's  tragedy  of  "  The  Fatal  Dowry,"  produced 
Wednesday,  January  5th,  1825.  The  original  work  is  one  of  very  great 
power,  but  unhappily  disfigured  by  scenes  too  gross  for  presentation 
before  an  audience  making  pretension  to  any  degree  of  refinement. 
Sheil  undertook  the  task  of  its  purification,  and  in  its  adaptation,  whilst 
maintaining  the  strictest  fidelity  to  the  story,  substituted  scenes  which, 
in  energy,  passion,  and  dramatic  power,  fully  equaled  those  on  which 
they  were  grafted.  The  parts  of  Rochfort  and  Charolois  were  very 
well  represented  by  Terry  and  Wallack,  and  in  Romont  opportunities 
were  afforded  for  the  display  of  energy  and  lofty  bearing,  to  the  full 
height  of  which  I  labored,  not  unsuccessfully,  to  reach  ;  but  though  a 
great  writer  says,  "11  vfy  a  point  de  hasard"  we  often  find  results 
under  the  sway  of  casualties.  The  play  was  well  acted,  and  enthusias- 
tically applauded  :  its  repetition  for  the  following  Tuesday  was  hailed 
most  rapturously  ;  but  Friday  came,  and  with  it  a  crowded  house,  to 
find  me  laboring  under  such  indisposition  that  it  was  with  difficulty  I 
could  keep  erect  without  support.  My  disorder  was  inflammation  of 
the  diaphragm,  which  for  some  time  threatened  the  worst  consequences. 
Earle  was  attending  me,  and  after  ineffectual  resort  to  the  sharpest 
remedies,  became  greatly  alarmed.  Dr.  Maton,  whose  name  has  lived 
in  my  memory  as,  under  God,  my  life's  preserver,  was  called  in.  After 
some  days  of  doubt  and  apprehension  he  pronounced  me  out  of  danger : 
an  announcement  that  brought  relief  and  consolation  to  the  hearts  of 
my  young  wife  and  sister,  worn  down  by  their  watchings  and  constant 
attendance  on  my  sick  bed.  It  was  indeed  from  the  grave's  brink  I 
had  been  rescued,  and  to  the  mercy  that  restored  me  more  than  even 
life  was  owing.  When  at  the  worst  extremity  the  kind  Archdeacon 
visited  me  with  the  sustaining  comfort  of  religion  in  the  administration 
of  the  Holy  Sacrament,  and  from  that  period  I  date  a  more  serious 
contemplation  of  life's  duties.  My  spirits,  which  up  to  this  illness  had 
retained  all  their  boyish  vivacity  and  exuberance,  became  greatly  so- 
bered, and  this  visitation  I  have  ever  since  regarded,  as  an  inestimable 
good  out  of  a  temporary  ill,  in  the  light  of  a  most  especial  grace. 
When  able  to  leave  my  bed,  which  for  several  weeks  I  was  not  per- 


1824-25.  RE-APPEARANCE  AT  DRURY  LANE.  219 

mitted  to  do,  change  of  air  was  recommended,  and  Cheltenham  con- 
sidered as  likely,  by  its  mild  atmosphere,  to  renovate  my  exhausted 
frame.  Here  we  remained  nearly  a  fortnight,  and  thence  proceeded 
to  Little  Malvern,  where  for  upwards  of  two  months  I  enjoyed  the 
quiet  of  a  comfortable  cottage  residence,  and  in  the  pure  air  of  its 
beautiful  hills,  by  constant  exercise  of  riding  and  walking,  was  rapidly 
recruiting  my  impaired  strength. 

In  my  marriage  I  had  realized  all  that  the  most  sanguine  heart 
could  have  pictured  to  itself  of  happiness.  The  studies  my  Catherine 
had  taken  up  with  so  much  earnestness  before  our  union  she  contin- 
ued, I  may  say,  throughout  her  after  life,  and  she  never  entirely  re- 
linquished the  character  of  pupil,  in  wearing  that  which  she  so  grace- 
fully did,  of  "  wife  and  friend,"  improving  her  acquaintance  with  the 
best  writers  in  French  and  Italian,  and  making  herself  conversant 
with  the  works  of  Milton,  Locke,  Bacon,  and  our  leading  authors  in 
poetry  and  prose  ;  so  that  my  in-door  life  most  agreeably  diversified 
my  enjoyments  and  occupations  abroad. 

My  engagement  with  Elliston,  which  my  illness  had  so  suddenly 
broken  up,  was  renewed  for  the  latter  part  of  the  Drury  Lane  season. 
From  the  impression  made  in  the  winter  by  thte  performance  of  the 
"  Fatal  Dowry,"  and  the  high  encomiums  of  the  press,  sanguine  ex- 
pectations were  entertained  of  its  successful  career  on  the  announce- 
ment of  my  return  to  appear  in  the  part  of  Romont,  on  the  llth  of 
April  (1825).  But  here  was  one  among  the  many  instances  of  acci- 
dent baffling  calculation.  In  the  interim  between  the  revival  of  Mas- 
singer's  tragedy  and  my  return  to  London  public  excitement  had  been 
roused  to  an  immoderate  degree  by  occurrences  that  in  their  notoriety 
gave  attraction  which,  in  the  more  regular  course  of  things,  would  not 
have  exceeded  the  ordinary  average.  After  the  publication  of  the 
trials  in  which  Kean  and  Miss  Foote  were  severally  parties,  both 
Drury  Lane  and  Covent  Garden  theaters  were  for  many  weeks 
nightly  crowded  when  those  performers  appeared  ;  and  in  the  interest 
of  their  causes  celebres  the  satiated  public  had  lost  sight  of  the  ill- 
starred  "  Fatal  Dowry,"  the  simple  but  forcible  passion  of  which  was 
forgotten  in  the  tumultuous  contentions  at  one  theater,  and  the  vocif- 
erous cheerings  of  party  feeling  at  the  other.  It  was  a  disappoint- 
ment on  many  accounts  to  be  lamented.  A  house  had  been  taken  for 
us  on  Hampstead  Heath  for  the  sake  of  my  health,  which  as  yet  was 
but  imperfectly  restored,  and  on  my  re-appearance  at  Drury  Lane  in 
the  "  Fatal  Dowry,"  I  had  the  questionable  satisfaction  of  being 
warmly  greeted  by  a  very  thin  audience.  The  play  was  in  conse- 
quence not  repeated  more  than  two  or  three  times,  and  we  had  to  fall 
back  on  "  Macbeth,"  "  Virginius,"  etc. 

Meanwhile  Knowles  had  been  busy  with  his  play  of  "  William  Tell," 
which  he  brought  to  show  me  previous  to  presenting  it  to  Elliston. 
The  principal  scenes  in  it  are  equal  to  the  best  that  the  gifted  author 
has  ever  written;  but  in  its  original  draft  it  could  not  have  been 
more  than  partially  successful.  The  conspirators  before  the  gate  of 


220  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XIX. 

Altorf  deciding  in  brief  and  prosaic  language  on  the  uprising  of  the 
Cantons  against  the  power  of  Gesler,  opened  the  play,  which  was  the 
only  introduction  to  the  character  of  the  hero.  After  the  fall  of  Ges- 
ler, with  which,  of  course,  the  interest  of  the  play  terminates,  the  in- 
vocation to  the  mountains,  a  soliloquy,  was  the  subject-matter  of  a  single 
scene,  and  the  description  of  the  eagle  followed  in  another,  suspending 
with  mere  poetical  language  the  release  of  the  audience.  Knowles 
had  less  of  the  tenacity  of  authorship  than  most  writers.  He  was 
open  to  conviction,  and  immediately  that  it  was  pointed  out  to  him 
how  much  effect  would  be  obtained  by  using  these  speeches  in  the  early 
part  of  the  play  as  developments  of  character  and  arguments  of  the 
story,  he  unhesitatingly  made  them  introductions  to  the  meeting  on  the 
field  of  Grutli,  and  brought  the  play  rapidly  to  a  close  after  the  death 
of  the  tyrant.  The  scene  in  the  second  act,  where  Tell  gives  his  in- 
structions to  his  son,  and  hears  of  the  outrage  on  old  Melchthal,  is 
admirable ;  nor  less  entitled  to  praise  are  those  between  Tell  and  Ges- 
ler, which  end  in  the  archer  striking  the  apple  off  his  son's  head. 
There  is  much  in  parts  of  the  play  that  partakes  of  the  quality  of  melo- 
drama, but  the  scenes  above  mentioned  would  compensate  for  many 
grave  delinquencies.  '  The  evidence  of  the  little  respect  paid  to  the 
actor's  art  by  our  managers,  who  were  for  the  most  part  mere  trades- 
men in  their  craft,  was  instanced  in  the  production  of  this  novelty. 
The  condition  of  the  treasury  made  it  desirable  that  it  should  be  hur- 
ried out,  and  although,  from  the  alterations  required,  the  text  was  not 
given  to  me  in  time  to  perfect  myself  in  the  words  of  the  last  act,  I  was 
importuned  and,  I  may  truly  say,  worried  into  running  the  hazard  of 
its  performance,  trusting  to  momentary  impulse  for  much  of  my  effect 
(a  very  dangerous  reliance),  and  even  under  the  necessity,  during  the 
progress  of  the  performance,  of  learning  what  I  could  of  the  conclud- 
ing scene.  As  it  fell  out  I  did,  however,  manage  to  speak  the  text,  or 
something  near  it ;  and  the  fall  of  the  curtain  was  followed  with  ac- 
clamations of  applause.  For  my  subsequent  representations,  which 
were  frequent,  I  persevered  in  the  study  of  the  character,  and  made  it 
one  of  my  most  attractive  personations.  Dexterity  in .  the  use  of  the 
bow  was  indispensable  to  the  performance,  and  by  dint  of  practice, 
archery  soon  became  a  favorite  exercise  with  me. 

On  the  2d  of  June,  1825,  I  acted  King  Henry  V.  and  Rob  Roy  for 
my  benefit,  and  my  engagement  was  brought  to  a  close  on  the  18th 
with  the  performance  of  William  Tell,  now  fully  established  in  its  at- 
traction. 

My  confidence  in  the  recovery  of  my  strength  had  been,  as  I  soon 
discovered,  too  hastily  assumed,  and  it  was  considered  advisable  that  I 
should  seek  in  further  repose  and  relaxation  a  more  perfect  re-invigor- 
ation  of  my  system  before  launching  again  upon  the  course  of  regular 
professional  work.  Accordingly,  after  fulfilling  the  two  engagements 
long  since  contracted  at  Cheltenham  and  Birmingham,  my  whole  sum- 
mer was  given  up  to  the  amusement  which  a  tour  in  North  "Wales 
afforded  us.  The  heat  this  year  was  intense,  and  as  one  remarkable 


1824-25.  RESIDENCE  IN  WALES.  221 

instance  of  it,  I  recollect  in  a  lane  near  the  town  of  Flint  observing  a 
man  in  pursuit  of  some  swarms  of  bees  that,  as  he  informed  me,  had 
left  their  hives  in  consequence  of  the  sun  having  melted  the  wax  of 
their  combs,  which  was  trickling  down  through  the  crevices  of  the 
wooden  stand  to  the  ground.  The  scenery  of  this  beautiful  country, 
however  familiar  it  may  become,  can  never  pall  upon  the  eye  of  taste, 
and  it  was  with  renewed  interest  I  now  revisited  its  crags  and  peaks, 
its  mountains,  and  its  streams,  blest  as  I  was  with  such  dear  compan- 
ionship. In  our  present  wanderings  there  was  an  object  beyond  the 
mere  gratification  which  the  ever-varying  landscape  could  afford  us. 
My  plans  had  been  formed  to  visit  America  in  the  course  of  the  fol- 
lowing year,  and  as  our  voyage  would  be  made  from  Liverpool,  I 
wished  to  fix  our  residence  for  the  intervening  time  within  au  easy 
distance  of  our  place  of  embarkation.  We  cherished  the  hope  of  fix- 
ing our  permanent  abode  on  our  return  in  one  of  those  lovely  valleys, 
either  that  of  the  Clwyd  or  Llangollen,  and  house-hunting  became 
part  of  the  business  of  our  tour  by  St.  Asaph,  Abergele,  Con  way,  Ban- 
gor,  Llanrwst,  etc. 

At  Llanrwst,  hearing  of  a  neat,  commodious  house  to  be  "  let  fur- 
nished" near  Denbigh,  I  rode  across  the  mountains  with  our  land- 
lord's son  to  see  it,  and  finding  it  very  neatly  and  completely  furnished, 
with  good  stabling,  coach-house,  garden,  and  field,  the  rent  was  soon 
agreed  on,  and  "  The  Cottage,  Denbigh,"  was  decided  on  as  our  ad- 
dress till  the  autumn  of  1826.  This  was  a  happy  period  to  look  back 
upon,  one  of  the  happiest  of  my  life.  Our  cottage  was  all  our  moder- 
ate desires  could  covet :  we  had  books,  archery,  a  little  stud  of  three 
ponies,  good  spirits,  capacity  of  enjoyment,  and  much,  very  much,  to 
enjoy.  My  Catherine's  studies  were  always  a  source  of  interest  and 
pleasing  occupation  for  herself,  and  for  me  in  my  superintendence  of 
them.  We  had  visitors  in  our  neighbors,  and  some  friends  from  a 
distance  as  far  as  St.  Asaph.  Our  home  was  a  little  paradise  to  us, 
and  one  we  should  have  been  contented  never  to  leave.  But  the 
world  had  its  demands  upon  us,  and  as  the  autumn  advanced  I  was 
under  the  necessity  of  resuming  my  professional  duties,  and  of  making 
from  time  to  time  long  absences  from  "  the  happy  valley."  With  the 
end  of  September  I  began  engagements  that  carried  me  to  Southamp- 
ton, Liverpool,  Nottingham,  Shrewsbury,  Chester,  Sheffield,  Leicester, 
Lincoln,  Newark,  and  Edinburgh.  In  some  of  these  places  I  had  the 
company  of  my  wife  and  sister,  and  after  one  week  spent  at  home, 
continuing  my  active  course  to  Plymouth  and  Exeter,  I  ended  there 
the  year  1825.  My  profits  enabled  me  to  pay  off  one  mortgage  on 
the  Granby  property  of  £720,  and  the  year  before  me  opened  with 
the  prospect  of  soon  clearing  away  the  remaining  incumbrance. 


222  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XX. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

1826.  —  Drury  Lane  —  "First  Part  of  King  Henry  IV."  —  Elliston  in  Falstaff— 
His  last  appearance  —  Stephen  Price  of  New  York  —  American  engagement  — 
Farewell  performance  at  Birmingham  —  The  treasury  of  the  theater  robbed  — 
Generosity  of  Macready — Letters  from  Mr.  B  run  ton  and  his  company  —  De- 
parture for  America  —  Passage  —  Arrival  at  New  York. 

THE  year  1826,  up  to  the  date  of  April  10th,  was  devoted  to  country 
engagements,  varied  by  some  short  visits  to  my  cottage  home,  and 
occasionally  by  the  company  of  my  wife  and  sister,  as  my  fellow- 
travelers.  The  management  of  Drury  Lane  theater  had  been  trans- 
ferred from  Elliston  to  his  son,  who,  under  the  committee,  now  con- 
ducted the  establishment,  Elliston  remaining  as  an  actor  of  the  com- 
pany. The  absence  of  Kean,  who  had  gone  to  the  United  States 
again,  made  young  Elliston  very  urgent  with  me  to  return  to  Drury 
Lane ;  but  six  weeks  were  all  I  could  spare  to  London  from  my  .more 
profitable  country  engagements,  by  which  I  was  now  enabled  to  pay 
off  above  £1,200  of  the  mortgage  remaining  on  the  Granby  purchase. 
"  Macbeth  "  was  the  play  advertised  for  my  re-appearance  at  Drury 
Lane  on  Monday,  April  10th,  followed  by  the  repetition  of  William 
Tell,  Jaques,  Leontes,  Othello,  Virginius,  Leonatus  Posthumus,  Hot- 
spur, etc.  An  interest  more  than  ordinary  attached  to  the  reproduc- 
tion of  the  "  First  Part  of  King  Henry  IV.,"  from  Elliston 's  an- 
nouncement in  the  part  of  Falstaff.  The  play  was  acted  on  Thursday, 
May  llth.  Elliston  was  an  actor  highly  distinguished  by  the  versa- 
tility and  power  of  his  performances,  but  of  late  years  he  had  some- 
what "  fallen  from  his  high  estate ; "  still  such  an  announcement 
stimulated  the  curiosity  of  play-goers.  His  rehearsal  gave  me  very 
great  pleasure.  I  watched  it  most  earnestly,  and  was  satisfied  that  in 
it  he  made  the  nearest  approach  to  the  joyous  humor  and  unctuous 
roguery  of  the  character  that  I  had  ever  witnessed,  giving  me  reason 
to  entertain  sanguine  hopes  of  a  great  success  in  its  performance  ;  but, 
alas !  whether  from  failure  of  voice  or  general  deficiency  of  power, 
the  attempt  fell  ineffectively  upon  the  audience,  and  the  character  was 
left,  as  it  has  been  since  the  days  of  Quin  and  Henderson,  without  an 
adequate  representative.  The  play  was  repeated  on  Monday,  May 
15th,  1826.  Before  the  curtain  rose  I  was  in  the  greenroom,  and 
spoke  with  Elliston,  who  complained  of  being  ill,  and  appeared  so, 
smelling  very  strongly  of  ether.  As  the  evening  wore  on  he  gave 
signs  of  extreme  weakness,  was  frequently  inaudible,  and  several  times 
voices  from  the  front  called  to  him  to  "  speak  up."  There  was  not  on 
this  occasion  even  the  semblance  of  an  effort  at  exertion,  and  in  the 
fifth  act  he  remained  silent  for  some  little  time,  then,  in  trying  to  reach 
the  side-scene,  reeled  round  and  fell  prostrate  before  the  foot-lights. 
It  was  a  piteous  spectacle !  A  sad  contrast  to  the  triumphs  of  his 
earlier  popularity !  The  audience  generally  attributed  his  fall  to 
intoxication,  but  without  just  cause.  He  was  really  indisposed,  and 


1826.  STEPHEN  PRICE.  223 

the  remedy  from  which  he  sought  support  was  too  potent.  He  was 
conveyed  to  his  dressing-room  almost  insensible,  and  never  appeared 
upon  the  stage  again. 

The  following  night  was  my  benefit,  when  Young,  never  forgetful  of 
the  like  courtesies  he  had  received  from  me,  acted  lago  to  my  Othello. 
The  house  was  well  filled,  and  on  the  Saturday  following  I  played 
for  the  last  time  in  London  previous  to  my  departure  for  America. 
Leaving  London,  engagements  at  Bristol  and  Bath  detained  me 
another  week  from  my  cottage-home,  whence,  after  the  enjoyment  of 
a  short  holiday,  I  proceeded  to  various  country  theaters.  At  Bir- 
mingham, now  under  the  management  of  Mr.  Richard  Brunton,  a 
truly  worthy  man,  I  acted  one  night  with  the  desire  of  assisting  him 
in  his  difficult  enterprise.  The  receipt  was  £180,  on  which  I  reduced 
my  charge  to  £30,  leaving  him  very  grateful  and  very  happy  at  this 
unexpected  addition  to  his  resources.  My  plan  of  visiting  the  United 
States  this  year  being  now  determined  on,  I  went  by  appointment  on 
the  22d  of  July,  1826,  to  Liverpool,  to  meet  there  Mr.  Stephen 
Price,  the  manager  of  the  Park  Theatre,  New  York,  and  conclude  au 
agreement  with  him. 

The  burly  appearance  and  bluff  manners  of  the  American  manager 
did  not  much  prepossess  me,  nor  was  I  altogether  at  ease  on  finding 
him  reluctant  to  commit  to  paper  the  terms  of  our  contract.  But  I  was 
resolute  in  refusing  to  undertake  the  voyage  on  a  mere  verbal  engage- 
ment ;  and  the  conditions,  £50  per  night,  were  therefore  finally  re- 
corded in  black  and  white.  This  business  was  no  sooner  settled  than 
he  startled  me  with  a  piece  of  intelligence,  as  yet  a  secret,  which  sank 
like  a  dead  weight  on  my  spirits.  He  had  become  the  lessee  of  Drury 
.  Lane  theater;  Bish,  the  lottery-office  keeper,  to  whom  it  had  been  let 
having  made  over  to  him  his  agreement  for  a  lease  on  very  advanta- 
geous terms.  Among  the  many  injurious  measures  that  weighed  upon 
the  theatrical  art  in  our  country  this  was  a  signal  one,  resulting  from 
the  mercenary  character  of  the  patentee.  Objection  to  a  foreigner  as 
director  of  a  national  establishment,  if  qualified  by  talent  and  accom- 
plishment for  the  office,  must  be  considered  narrow-minded  and  illib- 
eral ;  but  Mr.  Price  had  no  pretensions  to  justify  his  appointment. 
He  was  a  reckless  speculator,  his  betting-book  for  Epsom,  Ascot,  etc., 
being  made  up  for  him  by  Gully  the  pugilist,  who  had  amassed  a  for- 
tune by  his  ventures  on  the  turf.  He  was  boastful  and  overbearing, 
not  popular  even  with  his  own  countrymen  ;  of  the  dramatic  art  he 
could  only  judge  by  the  public  appreciation  ;  of  dramatic  literature  he 
knew  nothing ;  of  the  opportunities  of  education  he  had  taken  little 
or  no  advantage ;  in  conversation  his  only  argument  was  a  wager  : 
in  short  he  was  not  a  gentleman,  and  in  an  evil  hour  was  permitted 
to  preside  over  the  fortunes  of  the  British  drama.  But  the  only 
consideration  of  those  to  whom  the  patents  of  the  Drury  Lane  and 
Covent  Garden  theaters  had  been  intrusted  was  the  amount  of  interest 
they  could  obtain  for  their  shares;  the  improvement  of  the  public 
taste,  the  cultivation  of  dramatic  literature,  or  the  respectability  of  the 
audiences  being  subjects  below  their  liberal  and  enlightened  views. 


224  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CIIAI-.  XX. 

The  needful  preparations  for  my  departure  now  engrossed  my  at- 
tention. Having  business  to  transact  in  London,  I  took  leave  of  my 
friends  there  at  a  parting  dinner  at  the  Piazta  coffee-house,  and  made 
arrangements  at  Denbigh  for  the  care  of  my  little  property  left  behind 
during  my  absence.  On  Monday,  August  21st,  1826,  "  Hamlet"  was 
acted  at  Birmingham,  as  a  farewell  performance,  to  a  crowded  house, 
the  receipts  of  which  were  to  be  equally  divided  between  the  manager 
and  myself.  An  abstract  from  a  letter  to  my  dear  wife  on  this  occa- 
sion will  best  relate  the  disastrous  result : 

"  The  house  was  £186  10s.  My  address,  which  was  not  expected,  excited  a  very 
strong  feeling,  and  was  rapturously  received.  When  Brunton  came  into  my  room 
with  the  account,  I  deducted  with  my  pencil  £26  10s.  for  him,  and  divided  the 
remainder  with  him  :  £80  for  myself,  leaving  £106  10s.  for  him  asking  him  if  he 
was  satisfied.  He  was  exceedingly  grateful,  '  much  more  than  satisfied.'  Well, 
all  this  was  very  pleasant.  He  was  to  wait  on  me  at  my  hotel,  Hen  and  Chickens, 
the  following  morning  with  the  cash.  But  on  the  following  morning  the  news 
was  brought  by  Mr.  John  Reynolds  that  the  theater  had  been  entered  by  robbers 
in  the  night  and  £200  taken  out  of  the  treasury.  Poor  Brunton  was  in  a  dreadful 
state,  on  his  own,  and  also  on  my  account.  He  is  much  to  be  pitied,  for  these  two 
nights,  on  which  I  have  acted  here,  are  the  only  ones  that  have  reached  £100 
through  the  whole  season.  To  set  his  mind  in  some  measure  at  rest  I  have  this 
morning  written  him  a  note  as  a  receipt  in  full,  releasing  him  from  the  debt  of  £80 
in  which  he  imagined  himself  engaged  to  me.  The  money  is  a  severe  loss,  but  I 
can  bear  it,  and  I  thank  God  I  can.  To  further  reimburse  poor  Brunton,  who 
would  otherwise  be  unable  to  meet  the  salaries  of  his  actors  on  Saturday,  I  have 
engaged  to  act  Virginius  here  to-morrow  evening.  The  boxes  are  I  understand 
already  all  taken.  I  shall  not  receive  a  shilling  for  either  night :  it  would  not  be 
right  that  I  should  —  and  you  would  be  much  prouder  that  your  husband  should 
be  right  than  rich,  would  you  not  ?  I  shall  be  at  Cheltenham  on  Friday  :  you  will 
I  hope  see  me  on  Tuesday  evening.  Did  you  leave  Denbigh,  our  ponies," and  the 
hills  with  a  heavy  heart  'i  " 

On  August  24th,  1826,  as  I  had  promised,  I  acted  Virginius  to  a ' 
very  full  house,  the  receipt  of  which  was  £170  10s.,  a  sum  that  light- 
ened considerably  the  instant  pressure  on  poor  unfortunate  Brunton. 
The  letter 1  which  he  sent  me  on  the  morning  of  the  23d  is  inserted 

1  "  THEATER  ROYAL,  BIRMINGHAM,  23d  August,  1826. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  If  in  the  agitated  state  of  my  mind,  occasioned  by  the 
variety  of  circumstances  which  have  occurred,  I  should  feel  myself  unable  to  reply 
to  the  unparalleled  generosity  and  kindness  which  you  have  so  generally  manifested 
towards  me,  but  more  particularly  in  your  note  of  this  morning,  you,  I  am  sure, 
will  excuse  it.  Of,  this,  however,  be  assured,  that  your  kindness  shall  ever  live  in 
the  most  grateful  feelings  of  my  heart,  and  it  shall  be  my  greatest  pride  through 
every  action  of  my  life  to  merit  the  high  and  enviable  appellation  you  have  been 
pleased  to  bestow  on  me,  '  your  friend.'  "  RICHARD  BRUNTON. 

"  To  W.  C.  Macready,  Esq.,  Hen  and  Chickens  Hotel." 

"THEATER  ROYAL,  BIRMINGHAM,  August  24th,  1826. 

"DEAR  SIR,  —  Your  truly  liberal  and  disinterested  conduct  towards  the  head 
of  the  establishment  of  which  we  are  members  has  excited  in  us  all  so  warm  a 
feeling  of  admiration  and  esteem,  that  we  are  desirous,  before  you  quit  your  native 
land,  of  offering  you  our  cordial  thanks  for  your  generosity,  in  which  we  all  in- 
directly participate,  and  our  best  wishes  for  your  health,  prosperity,  and  safe 
return.  We  honor  the  motives  which  have  induced  you  to  act  as  you  have  done 
on  the  present  occasion,  and  we  feel  grateful  to  you,  not  only  for  this  individual 
instance  of  your  kindness,  but  for  supporting  by  your  example,  both  in  public  and 


1826.  DEPARTURE  FOR  AMERICA.  225 

below,  with  those  which  passed  between  Mr.  Brunton's  company  and 
myself.  My  wife  and  sister  left  our  cottage  at  Denbigh  on  the  24th, 
and  awaited  my  arrival *at  Liverpool.  One  night's  performance  at 
Bristol  on  Monday,  28th,  and  one  at  Liverpool  on  Wednesday,  30th, 
closed  my  professional  engagements  for  this  year  in  England  before 
audiences  that  received  my  parting  acknowledgments  with  the  warmest 
tokens  of  personal  interest.  The  kind  attentions  of  my  old  school- 
fellow, John  Shaw  Leigh,  previous  to  our  embarkation  are  not  to  be 
forgotten.  The  Canada,  Captain  Rogers,  a  vessel  of  600  tons,  one  of 
the  largest  and  swiftest  of  the  line  then  running  between  New  York 
and  Liverpool,  was  our  ship,  and  Friday,  September  1st,  the  day  ap- 
appointed  for  its  departure  ;  but  whether  to  humor  the  superstition  of 
seamen,  or  from  some  other  cause,  we  did  not  start  till  Saturday. 

Our  passage  was  a  rough  one,  but,  before  the  application  of  steam, 
was  considered  a  good  one,  being  made  in  twenty-six  days,  during 

private  life,  the  respectability  of  a  profession  which  has  heen  too  much  degraded 
by  many  who  ought  to  have  sustained  its  credit  and  character.  We  regret  that 
the  British  stage  should  lose  you,  even  for  a  short  period,  but  earnestly  hope  your 
talents  will  be  as  justly  appreciated,  and  even  more  liberally  rewarded  in  the  New 
World  than  they  have  been  in  Britain,  and  that  you  will  shortly  return  with  a 
large  increase  of  fame  and  fortune.  Accept  the  humble  tribute  of  our  entire 
esteem,  which  we  respectfully  offer,  and  in  bidding  you  farewell  permit  us  to  sub- 
scribe ourselves,  Dear  sir, 

"  Your  obliged,  and  faithful  servants, 
"B.  P.  BELLAMY,         I.  BLAND, 
J.  SALTER,  C.  JONES, 

THOS.  STUART,  H.  MONTAGUE, 

JAS.    DOBBS,  MlSS    HUDDAKT, 

JNO.  GARDNER,  S.  E.  COOK, 

H.  T.  GOUGH,  Miss  E.  TREE, 

I.  T.  JONES,  ELIZA  MIDDLETON, 

W.  LARKIN,  S.  TREE, 

J.  H.  CARTER,  L.  PINCOTT, 

JAMES  WILTON,  H.  MORETON, 

F.  CHARLES,  ELIZA  SOUTHET, 

JNO.  W.  HAYES,  JA.  COOK, 

ED.  SOUTHEY,  H.  LACY, 

C.  PARSLOE,  MRS.  MONTAGUE, 

T.  EICHARDS,  LOUISA  ASHTON. 
"  To  W.  Macready,  Esq." 

"  HEN  AND  CHICKENS  HOTEL,  August  25th,  1826. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  return  you  and  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  Birming- 
ham theater  my  heartfelt  acknowledgments  for  the  kind  and  flattering  letter  which 
you  put  into  my  hand  last  night.  If  I  did  not  feel  honored  and  gratified  by  ex- 
pressions  so  full  of  regard  I  must  be  insensible  indeed.  But  you  overrate  an  act 
of  ordinary  good  feeling.  A  far  greater  sacrifice  than  any  I  can  have  made  would 
be  more  than  compensated  by  your  liberal  estimation  of  it.  I  am  therefore  the 
more  indebted  to  you,  and  through  my  life  I  shall  treasure  this  friendly  testimony 
of  your  approbation.  From  my  heart  I  wish  you  generally  and  individually  every 
success,  and  again  thanking  you  most  sincerely,  and  bidding  you  farewell, 
"  I  am,  dear  sir, 

"  Yours  and  the  ladies  and  gentlemen,  most  obliged,  etc., 

"  W.  C.  MACREADY. 

"  To  B.  P.  Bellamy,  Esq.,  Theater  Royal,  Birmingham." 
15 


226  MACREADYS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XX. 

most  of  which  we  were  confined  to  our  berths  by  the  tempestuous 
weather,  so  that  there  was  little  opportunity  for  observation,  one  day 
only  differing  from  another  in  the  degree  of  rolling  and  tossing  that 
we  had  to  endure  from  the  time  we  passed  Cape  Clear  to  our  reach- 
ing the  Narrows,  the  entrance  to  the  beautiful  bay  of  New  York. 
Captain  Rogers  was  a  noble  specimen  of  an  American  seaman ;  he 
had  been  sailing-master  of  Commodore  Decatur.  Our  fellow-passen- 
gers were,  with  the  exception  of  two  British  officers,  commercial  men, 
and  not  particularly  interesting.  Our  chief  acquaintance  was  Cap- 
tain Lang  of  the  71st.  He  came  down  to  my  state-room  (as  the  little 
closet  in  which  I  lay  was  called)  one  morning,  to  ask  me  if  I  had  ever 
seen  the  maneuver  of  wearing  a  ship,  and  begged  me  to  come  up,  as 
they  were  preparing  for  the  work.  It  was  blowing  very  hard,  and  I 
had  no  great  curiosity  in  respect  to  the  operation ;  but  I  would  not 
seem  to  undervalue  his  courtesy,  and  made  the  best  of  my  way  to  the 
deck,  where,  holding  fast  by  the  companion,  I  saw  our  craft,  that  ap- 
peared in  port  of  a  conspicuous  size,  now  tossed  like  a  little  cork  in 
the  deep  trough  of  the  sea,  which  was,  in  sea-phrase,  running  mount- 
ains high.  I  expected  to  see  it  submerged  every  minute  ;  but  she  was 
brought  round  very  cleverly,  and  I  was  glad  to  hurry  down  to  my 
berth  again. 

We  had  been  twenty-five  days  at  sea,  when,  on  the  27th  of  Sep- 
tember, the  cry  of  "land  in  sight"  was  repeated  by  numerous  voices, 
and  produced  a  sensation  through  the  ship  that,  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  I  did  not  share.  I  felt  pleasure  in  the  delight  and  animation 
that  brightened  and  laughed  in  every  countenance,  and  the  land  itself, 
the  breaking  up  of  the  level  line  of  the  horizon,  the  dim  blue  hill, 
towards  which  every  eye  was  strained,  was,  as  if  by  sympathy,  an  ob- 
ject of  interest  to  me ;  but  the  "  home  "  which  my  shipmates  were 
approaching  I  felt  more  distant  from  me  than  before.  Every  one  was 
soon  actively  engaged  in  arranging  his  trunks  and  changing  his  ship 
dress  for  gayer  apparel.  One  gentleman,  who  during  the  voyage  had 
skipped  about  the  deck  in  a  smart  frock,  emerged  from  his  cabin,  to 
my  great  surprise,  in  the  single  breast  and  upright  collar  of  a  Quaker's 
drab  suit.  The  afternoon  was  beautiful ;  the  sun  was  setting  in  mild, 
subdued  splendor  as  we  neared  the  light-house.  The  blackfish  were 
tumbling  about  around  the  ship  ;  the  land  gave  distinctly,  as  we  ad- 
vanced, the  colors  of  the  soil  and  foliage.  The  pilot  being  taken  on 
board,  all  crowded  around  him,  as  if  he  had  b«en  an  admiral  come  to 
hoist  his  flag  over  us.  lie  was  an  old  Dutch  skipper,  and  had  a  habit 
of  spitting  on  his  hands  before  every  order  he  gave,  as  if  the  effort 
was  a  manual  exertion.  At  his  command  the  man  was  slung  to  heave 
the  lead.  The  day  was  now  fast  closing,  and  the  land  lay  in  deep 
shadow  around,  from  which  a  light  looked  out  now  and  then  from 
some  house  on  the  shore  like  a  friend  we  had  missed  for  many  a  day. 
The  vessel  moved  beautifully  through  the  sea ;  the  sun  went  down, 
and  in  the  deep  obscurity  of  the  twilight  I  could  sit  apart  and  meditate 
upon  the  various  states  of  mind  around  me,  and  my  own  absence  from 


1326.  ARRIVAL  AT  NEW  YORK.  227 

my  native  land.  The  melodious  cry  of  the  seaman  as  he  heaved  the 
lead  —  "  Quarter  less  nine  —  a  ha'  less  seven  "  —  so  musical,  so  mel- 
ancholy, increased  the  dejection  I  felt.  I  sat  listening  to  his  chant 
until  we  passed  the  Narrows,  a  channel  which  the  meeting  points  of 
the  shore  reduced  to  about  half  a  mile  in  breadth,  and  from  which  the 
bay  spreads  open  in  grandeur  and  beauty.  The  dancing  lights  of  the 
city,  which  multiplied  as  we  approached,  the  steamboats,  like  fireworks 
on  the  waters,  pouring  from  their  chimneys  streams  of  fiery  sparks,  the 
shouts  and  questionings  as  we  passed  the  boats  and  shipping  in  the 
East  River,  made  a  scene,  strange,  picturesque,  and  interesting,  and 
yet  to  us  alone  mournful. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

1826.  —  T.  A.  Emmett  —  First  appearance  in  Virginias  at  the  Park  Theatre,  New 
York —  Society  in  New  York —  Visits  to  the  public  buildings,  etc. —  The  Falls 
of  the  Passaic  —  Moving  houses — Conway  acting  in  New  York  —  Forest  — 
Boston  —  Baltimore  —  Charles  Carroll  —  New  Year  customs  in  New  York. 

WHEN  alongside  of  the  Quay,  Captain  Lang  went  up  to  the  Park 
Place  Hotel  to  bespeak  rooms  for  us,  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I 
was  glad  when  his  messenger  returned  to  say  we  could  not  be  accom- 
modated before  the  next  day :  my  reluctance  to  go  on  shore  was  so 
great,  and  I  seemed  to  hold  on  to  the  good  ship,  as  if  with  the  feeling 
that  there  was  something  of  England  still  about  it.  The  next  morning 
a  very  neat  carriage,  that  might  have  put  to  shame  the  hackney- 
coaches  of  London,  came  to  take  us  to  our  new  residence,  a  well- 
furnished  and  comfortable  suite  in  an  hotel  looking  on  the  park,  an 
open  space  of  some  extent  planted  with  trees,  having  the  City  Hall, 
the  Park  Theater,  and  some  good  houses  on  the  different  sides  of  it. 
Simpson,  the  partner  of  Price,  and  manager  of  the  Park  Theater,  lost 
no  time  in  calling  on  me,  and  urging  the  expediency  of  an  early  public 
appearance ;  it  was  settled  for  Monday,  October  the  2d,  in  the  char- 
acter of  Virginius.  The  objects  I  had  in  view  in  coming  to  the  United 
States  were  not  confined  to  the  single  one  of  making  money.  The 
government  of  the  country,  its  society,  the  manners  of  its  citizens,  and 
its  scenes  of  grandeur  and  beauty,  so  unlike  what  we  had  left  behind 
in  our  own  dear  land,  had  claims  on  my  curiosity  and  interest.  I  had 
besides  resolved  to  spare  no  pains  in  the  cultivation  of  my  art,  and 
from  noticing  in  other  actors,  as  in  myself,  the  injurious  effect  of 
grasping  at  gain  by  playing  every  night  in  the  week,  leaving  no  time 
for  meditation  and  study,  I  laid  it  down  as  a  rule  to  limit  my  perform- 
ances to  three  or  at  most  four  nights  in  each  week,  and  steadily  to 
keep  a  watch  on  my  improvement.  It  was  my  practice  never  to 
undervalue  my  audiences  ;  and,  though  I  often  found  them  in  America 
less  sensitive  and  more  phlegmatic  than  those  at  home,  I  wrestled 
with  the  tendency  to  yield  to  their  apparent  want  of  sympathy,  and 


228  MACREADY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XXI. 

by  acting  determinedly  to  the  character  I  had  to  represent,  my  hearers 
gradually  kindled  into  excitement. 

The  mornings  of  my  two  first  days  were  given  to  rehearsals  of  my 
plays.  The  afternoons  were  occupied  with  the  delivery  of  my  letters 
of  introduction.  One  of  these  was  of  peculiar  interest,  addressed  by 
Sheil  to  Thomas  Addis  Emmett,  who  after  his  participation  in  Irish 
rebellion  now  stood  at  the  head  of  the  New  York  bar.  In  our  many 
acquaintances  we  found  very  ready  and  agreeable  cicerones,  eager  to 
point  out  what  was  remarkable  in  the  city  and  its  institutions,  for 
which  a  moderate  share  of  admiration  would  have  sounded  dull  and 
disappointing  to  American  ears,  as  you  are  expected  in  this  country  to 
praise  without  stint ;  and  it  was  a  complaint  of  Basil  Hall's,  who 
arrived  shortly  after  us,  that  his  friends  would  not  wait  for  his  delib- 
erate judgment,  but  exacted  unqualified  commendation  for  whatever 
they  might  draw  his  attention  to.  There  was  much  to  admire  and 
interest  in  the  novel  scenes  presented  to  us  ;  but  to  note  a  description 
of  the  streets  and  buildings  as  they  appeared  to  us  in  1826,  when  the 
line  of  Broadway  had  its  utmost  limit  in  Canal  Street,  would  be  to 
give  a  picture  that  few  now  living  would  recognize,  so  extensive,  so 
surprising,  have  been  its  alterations  and  improvements. 

On  my  appearance  at  the  Park  Theater,  a  spacious  and  handsome 
building,  the  house  was  crowded,  and  my  reception  all  I  could  desire. 
The  only  occurrence  to  remind  my  wife  and  sister,  who  occupied  a 
private  box,  that  they  were  not  in  an  English  theater  was  the  rough 
treatment  of  a  black  woman,  who  by  some  mistake  had  got  into  the 
pit,  and  for  a  length  of  time  was  hustled  about  from  one  to  another 
amidst  shouts  of  laughter  from  the  white  spectators,  until  at  last  she 
got  into  a  corner,  and,  nestling  down  there,  was  suffered  to  remain 
unmolested  during  the  remainder  of  the  evening.  No  colored  person 
was  at  that  time  allowed  to  sit  either  in  the  boxes  or  pit.  My  per- 
formances being  limited  to  the  repetition  of  the  characters  in  which  I 
had  gained  reputation  at  home,  gave  occasion  to  little  remark.  The 
houses  were  nightly  crowded,  my  emoluments  were  most  satisfactory, 
and  thus  three  weeks  passed  away  agreeably  enough.  The  hospitality 
of  our  many  friends  gave  us  ample  opportunity  of  gaining  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  society  of  New  York,  dinners  and  evening  parties 
following  in  quick  succession.  Customs  have  much  changed  since 
then,  but  at  the  time  of  which  I  write  a  stranger  going  to  a  dinner- 
party would  probably  find  the  street  door  open,  without  a  servant  to 
answer  either  knocker  or  bell ;  or  if  one  did  come  to  open  the  door,  he 
would  leave  the  visitor  to  make  his  way,  unheralded  and  unannounced, 
to  the  reception-room.  I  have  more  than  once  suffered  great  embar- 
rassment in  entering  a  room  full  of  people  whom  I  did  not  know,  and 
have  been  recognized  as  a  guest  by  the  courtesy  of  host  and  hostess 
from  being  the  only  stranger  present  The  round  of  introduction  that 
follows  your  recognition,  and  which  you  are  then  condemned  to 
undergo,  every  individual  shaking  your  hand,  merely  in  conformity 
with  his  own  notions  of  good-breeding,  and  not  caring  one  pin  for  you, 


1826.  THOMAS  ADDIS  EMMETT.  229 

is  something  of  an  annoyance.  But  I  found  the  entertainment  almost 
always  unexceptionable ;  £heir  tables  are  usually  arranged  with  good 
taste  and  elegance  ;  freedom  and  cheerfulness  give  life  to  their  con- 
versation, which  is  generally  interesting  and  amusing.  The  scarcity 
of  servants  is  a  common  inconvenience,  and  where  one  is  almost  as 
much  an  incumbrance  as  a  help  one  is  not  surprised  that  families  dis- 
pense with  all  the  hands,  as  in-door  residents,  not  absolutely  necessary. 
Coffee  is  introduced  at  the  dinner-table,  it  not  being  customary  to 
return  to  the  drawing-room  to  partake  it  with  the  women  (I  am 
writing  of  the  year  1826).  When  the  ladies  rise  from  table  they 
vanish,  "  and  no  man  sees  them  more."  This  is  odious,  and  a  remnant 
of  barbarism  that  I  am  glad  to  say  is  losing  part  of  its  detestable  char- 
acter in  the  growing  disuse  of  cigars  with  wine. 

The  indefatigable  attention  of  our  many  friends  did  not  allow  my  lei- 
sure days  to  be  idle  ones.  They  were  diligently  and  agreeably  employed 
in  visiting  whatever  was  worthy  of  notice  in  or  about  the  city.  The 
principal  public  building  at  that  time  was  the  City  Hall,  in  which  the 
courts  of  justice  were  held.  A  trial  of  great  interest,  the  State's  pros- 
ecution of  some  bubble  companies,  gave  occasion  to  Thomas  Addis 
Emmett,  who  was  retained  in  the  defense,  for  a  display  of  his  pow- 
ers, and  it  was  with  admiration  and  rapt  delight  I  listened  to  the  ener- 
getic accents  of  "  the  old  man  eloquent."  On  leaving  the  court  we 
passed  through  the  vaulted  passages  underneath.  A  solitary  figure 
was  slowly  dragging  his  steps  along,  close  to  the  wall :  he  was  below 
the  middle  size,  dressed  in  a  light  gray-colored  suit,  which,  with  his 
pale  complexion,  gave  him  in  his  loneliness  somewhat  of  a  ghostly 
appearance.  When  we  had  passed  him,  one  of  my  friends  in  a  sig- 
nificant whisper  asked  me  if  I  knew  who  that  was.  On  my  replying 
in  the  negative,  he  told  me  he  was  Colonel  Burr,  who  shot  Hamilton, 
the  Secretary  of  State,  and  who  had  been  under  prosecution  for  high 
treason.  He  looked  a  mysterious  shadow  of  unrepented  evil.  Once 
seen  the  vision  was  not  one  to  be  forgotten.  The  schools,  of  which 
Americans  are  justly  proud,  of  course  came  under  our  inspection. 
In  one  of  these  the  principal  teacher  ordered  the  boys  to  stand  up, 
and  made  an  American  harangue  to  them  which  severely  taxed 
our  gravity.  Pointing  to  us,  the  visitors,  he  emphatically  charged 
them  to  remember  that  "  the  eyes  of  Europe  were  looking  down  upon 
them.' " 

An  excursion  was  proposed  to  the  Falls  of  Passaic,  and  a  party 
was  formed,  consisting  of  the  Wilkes's,  and  Coldens,  Captain  and 
Mrs.  Basil  Hall,  and  ourselves.  Having  to  wait  the  ferry-boat's  re- 
turn to  cross  the  Hudson,  we  employed  the  half-hour's  delay  in  visit- 
ing the  new  streets  at  the  rear  of  the  Exchange,  and  in  admiring  the 
structure  of  that  marble  building.  On  our  return,  in  passing  down 
William  Street,  we  were  stopped  by  an  apparatus  of  heavy  frame-work 
of  timber  with  large  screws,  laid  across  the  street.  Our  inquiries 
were  soon  satisfied  in  learning  that  these  preparations  were  for  push- 
ing from  their  original  site,  to  a  foundation  built  for  their  reception 


230  MACREADTS  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XXI. 

ten  yards  behind,  two  large  brick  houses.  They  had  been  moved 
part  of  the  way  along  the  soaped  beams  ttfe  previous  night,  and  with 
so  little  agitation  or  disturbance,  that  a  cup  of  milk  on  the  dining- 
room  chimney-piece  of  one  did  not  spill  a  drop  in  its  journey !  The 
whole  distance  was  completed  in  a  few  days,  and  the  two  houses  were 
to  be  seen  occupying  a  different  plot  of  ground  from  that  on  which 
they  were  first  erected.  Our  wonder  was  not  participated  in  by  the 
citizens  of  New  York,  to  whom  a  more  extraordinary  removal  of  a 
brick  house  some  time  before  had  familiarized  the  present  experi- 
ment, That  building  was  not  only  moved  from  the  foundation  on 
which  it  originally  stood,  but  was  actually  let  down  upon  another 
some  feet  below  its  original  basement.  Our  road  to  the  Passaic  Falls 
lay  beyond  the  Ferry  of  Paul's  Hook,  across  some  salt-marshes, 
clustered  with  irises  and  alive  with  fish,  frogs,  and  terrapins,  and 
through  a  rich  country  beautified  with  orchards  and  the  fiowers  of 
the  tulip  and  locust  trees.  We  slept  at  the  town  of  Paterson,  and 
on  the  morrow  made  an  examination  of  the  extraordinary  geological 
phenomenon  which  gives  such  peculiar  singularity  to  the  falls  of  this 
river,  but  which  a  more  scientific  vocabulary  than  mine  is  required 
to  depict  and  explain.  It  must  suffice  to  say  that  we  were  amply 
repaid  for  our  journey  by  the  wonderfully  curious  fractures  of  the 
earth's  crust  which  it  presented  to  us,  and  the  rushing  of  the  broken 
stream  through  its  various  fissures. 

A  new  theatre  in  the  Bowery,  a  low  quarter  of  the  city,  was  opened 
during  my  sojourn  in  New  York.  It  was  handsome  and  commodious  ; 
but  its  locality  was  an  objection  insuperable  to  the  fashion  of  the  place. 
Messieurs  Conway  and  Forrest  were  members  of  the  corps  dramatique, 
which  was  composed  of  some  of  the  best  actors  in  the  country.  I 
was  very  anxious  for  poor  Conway's  success  in  the  States,  holding 
him  in  great  esteem  as  a  thoroughly  gentlemanly  man,  and  entitled 
to  credit  for  considerable  talent.  The  part  he  acted  on  the  night  I 
saw  him  was  Brutus,  in  "  Julius  Crcsar."  The  performance  was  even, 
perhaps  too  tame ;  unrelieved  by  any  start  of  enthusiasm,  and  cor- 
rectly described  by  that  chilling  word  "respectable."  Forrest  AVU> 
the  Mark  Antony.  He  was  a  very  young  man,  not  more,  I  believe, 
than  one  or  two  and  twenty.  The  "  Bowery  lads,"  as  they  were 
termed,  made  great  account  of  him,  and  he  certainly  was  possessed 
of  remarkable  qualifications.  His  figure  was  good,  though  perhaps 
a  little  too  heavy ;  his  face  might  be  considered  handsome,  his  voice 
excellent ;  he  was  gifted  with  extraordinary  strength  of  limb,  to 
which  he  omitted  no  opportunity  of  giving  prominence.  He  had 
received  only  the  commonest  education,  but  in  his  reading  of  the 
text  he  showed  the  discernment  and  good  sense  of  an  intellect  much 
upon  a  level  with  that  of  Conway ;  but  he  had  more  energy,  and  was 
altogether  distinguished  by  powers  that  under  proper  direction  might 
be  productive  of  great  effect.  I  saw  him  again  in  "  William  Tell." 
His  performance  was  marked  by  vehemence  and  rude  force  that  told 
upon  his  hearers ;  but  of  pathos  in  the  affecting  interview  with  his 


1826.  BOSTON.  23] 

son  there  was  not  the  slightest  touch,  and  it  was  evident  he  had  not 
rightly  understood  some  passages  in  his  text.  My  observation  upon 
him  was  not  hastily  pronounced.  My  impression  was  that,  possessed 
of  natural  requisites  in  no  ordinary  degree,  he  might,  under  careful 
discipline,  confidently  look  forward  to  eminence  in  his  profession. 
If  he  would  give  himself  up  to  a  severe  study  of  his  art,  and  improve 
himself  by  the  practice  he  could  obtain  before  the  audiences  of  the 
principal  theaters  in  Great  Britain,  those  of  Edinburgh,  Liverpool, 
Glasgow,  Birmingham,  Manchester,  etc.  (then  good  dramatic  schools), 
he  might  make  himself  a  first-rate  actor.  But  to  such  a  course  of 
self-denying  training  I  was  certain  he  never  would  submit,  as  its 
necessity  would  not  be  made  apparent  to  him.  The  injudicious  and 
ignorant  flattery,  and  the  factious  applause  of  his  supporters  in  low- 
priced  theatres,  would  fill  his  purse,  would  blind  him  to  his  deficiency 
in  taste  and  judgment,  and  satisfy  his  vanity,  confirming  his  self-opin- 
ion of  attained  perfection.  I  spoke  of  him  constantly  as  a  young 
man  of  unquestionable  promise,  but  I  doubted  his  submission  to  the 
inexorable  conditions  for  reaching  excellence.  The  event  has  been 
as  I  anticipated.  His  robustious  style  gains  applause  in  the  coarse 
melodramas  of  "  Spartacus "  and  "  Metamora ; "  but  the  traits  of 
character  in  Shakespeare,  and  the  poetry  of  the  legitimate  drama  are 
beyond  his  grasp.  My  forebodings  were  prophetic. 

From  New  York,  where  I  left  my  wife  and  sister  in  their  com- 
fortable hotel,  my  next  engagement,  which  began  on  the  30th  of  Oc- 
tober, led  me  to  Boston,  where  upon  the  same  terms,  £50  per  night, 
I  represented  the  same  plays,  using  my  leisure  days  in  making  ac- 
quaintance with  Bunker's,  or  rather  Breed's  Hill,  Faneuil  Hall,  the 
Capitol,  the  Common,  and  the  various  institutions  and  sites  that  laid 
claim  to  my  attention.  The  theater  was  nightly  crowded,  and  the 
boxes  were  let  by  auction  at  premiums  exceeding  $200.  A  traveler 
would  very  often  at  that  time  hear  complaints  of  the  intractability 
and  rudeness  of  Americans.  My  experience  did  not  then  justify  me 
in  admitting  the  correctness  of  the  accusation.  In  New  York,  where 
I  had  frequently  to  make  inquiries  of  passers-by,  I  observed  that  the 
courtesy  with  which  they  were  answered  was  not  surpassed  by  the 
politesse  with  which  a  stranger's  appeals  are  usually  responded  to  in 
the  streets  of  Paris.  A  young  Englishman  with  whom  I  was  ac- 
quainted was  never  weary  of  inveighing  against  the  coarseness  and 
unaccommodating  spirit  of  "  the  Yankees,"  which  my  own  experience 
warranted  me  in  discrediting.  We  drove  together  one  morning  in  a 
cab  to  Salem,  a  pretty  town  about  twelve  miles  from  Boston,  and 
were  frequently  under  the  necessity  of  applying  to  those  we  met,  or 
to  persons  living  on  the  roadside,  for  information,  or  assistance  in  re- 
gard to  the  harness  or  vehicle  in  which  we  were  embarked.  In  every 
instance  the  readiest  and  most  obliging  answers  were  given,  and  the 
most  efficient  help  afforded.  On  each  several  occasion  I  appealed  to 
my  fellow-traveler  :  "  What  will  you  say  of  that  man  ?  "  "  Oh,  that 
one  was  civil  enough  ! "  The  next  ?  "  Yes,  he  was  very  well."  An- 


232  MAC  READY'S  REMINISCENCES.  CHAP.  XXI. 

other.  "  lie  was  one  of  the  better  sort."  Another,  and  another,  to 
at  least  half  a  dozen  cases,  in  which  he  finally  reconciled  himself  to 
his  persistency  of  depreciation  by  the  general  remark,  "  Ah,  you  have 
the  luck  to  hit  upon  the  good  ones  ! "  The  simple  fact  being  that 
civility  meets  with  civility. 

But  I  now  find  it  necessary,  if  I  am  to  make  a  record  of  my  pro- 
fessional career,  to  limit  myself  to  the  bare  facts  of  time  and  place,  leav- 
ing any  collateral  remarks  or  descriptions  to  a  possible  future. 

The  success  of  this  engagement  induced  the  managers  to  secure  me 
for  its  repetition  in  the  ensuing  March,  and  with  most  agreeable  re- 
membrances of  the  puritanical  old  city,  which  more  intimate  acquaint- 
ance only  endeared  to  me,  I  set  out  on  my  journey  to  Baltimore,  on 
my  way  joining  company  at  New  York  with  my  wife  and  sister.  Our 
residence  at  Baltimore  was  Barnum's  Hotel,  at  that  time  distinguished 
in  the  States  for  its  superiority  in  elegance  and  comfort  to  all  others. 
My  professional  performances,  commencing  November  20th,  were  in 
the  same  plays  in  which  I  had  acted  at  New  York  and  Boston ;  but 
very  serious  illness  mulcted  me  of  one  half  of  the  nights  on  which  I  had 
calculated.  We  received  attentions  from  many  families,  among  the 
rest  from  that  of  Dr.  Potter,  my  physician,  a  very  skillful,  intelligent, 
and  agreeable  man,  who  accompanied  me  in  a  visit  which  I  paid,  on 
his  own  particular  invitation,  to  Charles  Carroll,  of  Carrolltown,  a 
man  most  interesting  from  his  varied  and  extensive  acquirements,  and 
especially  as  being  the  last  surviving  signer  of  the  Declaration  of  In- 
dependence. He  was  a  rare  instance  of  extreme  old  age  (being  then 
in  his  ninetieth  year)  retaining  all  the  vivacity  and  grace  of  youth  with 
the  polish  of  one  educated  in  the  school  of  Chesterfield.  In  my  life's 
experience  I  have  never  met  with  a  more  finished  gentleman.  At  his 
advanced  age  he  kept  up  his  acquaintance  with  the  classics.  He  spoke 
of  England  with  respect,  and  of  his  own  country,  its  institutions,  its 
prospects,  and  its  dangers,  with  perfect  freedom,  anticipating  its  event- 
ual greatness,  it  not  marred  by  faction  and  the  vice  of  intemperance 
in  the  use  of  ardent  spirits,  detaining  me,  not  unwillingly,  more  than 
two  hours  in  most  attractive  conversation.  When  at  last  I  was 
obliged  to  take  my  leave,  he  rose,  and  to  my  entreaty  that  he  would 
not  attempt  to  follow  me  down-stairs,  he  replied  in  the  liveliest  man- 
ner, "  Oh,  I  shall  never  see  you  again,  and  so  I  will  see  the  last  of 
you  !  "  He  shook  hands  with  me  at  the  street  door,  and  I  bade  a  re- 
luctant adieu  to  one  of  the  noblest  samples  of  manhood  I  had  ever 
seen,  or  am  ever  likely  to  look  upon. 

But  for  my  unlucky  illness  our  visit  to  Baltimore  would  have  been 
in  all  respects  satisfactory.  On  the  nights  when  I  was  able  to  act,  the 
houses  were  well-filled ;  but  my  stay  there  could  not  be  prolonged,  as 
my  engagements  with  Simpson,  at  New  York,  required  my  re-appear- 
ance at  the  Park  Theater  on  Monday,  December  llth,  1826.  Return- 
ing there,  we  took  up  our  residence  in  the  City  Hotel.  With  ten 
nights'  performances,  at  £50  per  night,  my  professional  labors  for  1826 
came  to  an  end.  The  arrival  of  the  New  Year  is  welcomed  in  New 


1826.  NEW  YEAR'S  DAY  IN  NEW  YORK.  233 

York  by  a  celebration  of  old  date,  but  one  that  ought  never  to  be  suf- 
fered to  grow  into  disuse,  so  sensible  is  its  object,  so  genial  and  so 
Christian  is  its  influence.  On  the  1st  of  January  it  is  the  custom  for 
the  ladies  of  each  family  to  sit  at  home  to  receive  visitors.  It  is  un- 
necessary to  say  they  are  not  on  such  an  occasion  altogether  indiffer- 
ent to  their  toilets.  The  street  door  is  left  open,  and  refreshments  are 
laid  out  in  an  inner  room.  Every  gentleman  of  their  acquaintance 
who  may  have  a  leg  to  stand  on,  or  a  carriage  to  ride  in,  presents  him- 
self in  the  course  of  the  morning  to  shake  hands  and  to  wish  his  fair 
friends  and  their  families  a  happy  New  Year.  The  whole  city  is  alive 
and  radiant  with  good-humor,  smiles  on  every  face,  and  the  spirit  of 
good-fellowship  brightening  every  eye.  The  streets  present  a  most 
animating  sight,  swarming  as  they  do  with  well-dressed  men  hurrying 
in  every  direction  in  and  out  of  the  hospitable  doors,  snatching  a 
hasty  grip  of  hands  from  friends  and  acquaintances  as  they  make  their 
way  through  the  moving  crowd,  and  almost  shouting  as  they  pass  the 
benediction  of  the  day.  In  the  utterance  of  this  day's  good  wishes  old 
friendships  are  confirmed,  new  ones  are  cemented,  social  slights  and 
offenses  are  condoned,  misunderstandings  are  composed ;  where  inter- 
course has  been,  from  whatever  cause,  accident  of  shyness,  suspended, 
this  clay,  if  taken  advantage  of,  replaces  all  on  an  amicable  footing. 
Many  and  great  changes  have  taken  place  in  New  York  since  the  day 
when  I  enjoyed  this  exciting  and,  as  I  felt  it,  this  touching  spectacle. 
My  friend  Mr.  Wilkes  did  not  expect  me  to  sympathize  with  this  out- 
break of  social  feeling,  but  it  quite  carried  me  away.  It  was  a  demon- 
stration that  made  one  feel  one's  kindred  with  mankind,  and  I  trust, 
if  every  other  celebration  in  this  country  were  to  be  discontinued,  that 
this  will  last  whilst  there  is  a  heart  .to  kindle  with  enthusiasm  at  its 
Christian  catholicity. 


SELECTIONS   FROM  DIARIES. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  DIARIES. 


[THE  autobiographical  reminiscences  (commenced  in  1855)  are  not 
carried  beyond  the  year  1826,  but  there  remains  a  series  of  diaries 
affording  Macready's  own  contemporary  records  of  his  daily  life. 

From  1827  to  1832  the  diary  was  kept  in  small  pocket-books,  ad- 
mitting only  of  a  short  daily  entry.  From  1833  and  onwards,  it  was 
kept  in  books  of  larger  size  (Dunn's  8vo  Daily  Remembrancer),  with 
space  for  longer  entries.] 

1827. 

[The  entries  for  1827  are  very  few,  beginning  only  in  September, 
and  furnishing  no  account  of  the  return  from  America,  or  of  the  oc- 
cupations of  the  first  eight  months  of  the  year.] 

September  8th.  —  Leave  Paris  for  Italy. 

(Lyons  —  Avignon — Nismes  —  Marseilles — Nice  —  Genoa  —  Pisa 
—  Florence  —  Bologna  —  Milan  —  and  back.) 

October  30th.  —  London. 

November  6th.  —  House  in  "Weymouth  Street  taken  for  six  months, 
for  £210,  and  carriage  hired  for  same  time  for  £16  16s. 

November  12th.  —  Drury  Lane  begins.  [Macbeth.  First  appear- 
ance for  two  years.] 

Auxilium  viresque  et  animi  et  corporis,  0  Deus  omnipotens  !  mihi  affer ;  labori.s 
patientis,  verique  scrutatorem  diligentissimutn,  prsemia  laudis  me  sumere  precibus 
mcis  concede.  Sine  te  enim  impotentia  robora,  inutilis  occasio,  futile  est  hominis 
ingenium.  Tutamen  adsis  mihi  in  aeternum,  O  Deus,  precor.1 

[The  cash  account  for  1827  shows  a  total  income  from  all  sources 
(including  repayments  of  loans),  of  £3,285  5s.  lid.  and  a  total  ex- 
penditure (including  investment)  of  £3,106  5s.  10c?.] 


January  1st.  —  Manchester. 
?.  — Bath  (4  nights). 


1828. 


1  Almighty  God,  give  me  help  and  strength  of  mind  and  body.  Grant  to  my 
prayers  the  reward  of  praise,  as  a  most  assiduous  disciple  of  patient  labor,  and  of 
the  truth.  For,  without  thee,  strength  is  weakness,  opportunity  is  useless,  and 
the  understanding  of  man  is  a  vain  thing.  Be  thou  my  defense  for  ever,  0  God, 
is  my  prayer.  —  ED.  TBANS. 


238  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1828. 

February  llth.  —  Bristol  (5  nights). 

26tk.  —  Harrogate. 

March  5th.  —  Lynn  (4  nights). 

ISth.  —  Norwich  (7  nights). 

April  3d.  —  Start  for  Paris. 

[The  English  performances  in  Paris  in  1828  took  place  in  the  (then 
existing)  Salle  Favart,  and  Macready  had  the  support  of  Miss  Smith- 
son,  who  afterwards  married  M.  Berlioz,  the  well-known  musical  com- 
poser, and  of  Mr.  Webster  and  Mr.  Abbott.  Miss  Smithson  obtained 
a  great  success  with  the  Parisian  public.  In  "  Othello  "  the  French 
critics  made  much  laudatory  remark  upon  the  innovation  introduced 
by  Macready  of  withdrawing  the  actual  murder  of  Desdemona  from 
the  sight  of  the  audience,  and  letting  it  take  place  within  the  curtains 
of  the  alcove  containing  the  bed. 

The  witches  in  "  Macbeth  "  excited  laughter.  In  the  scene  of  the 
caldron  an  auditor  exclaimed  at  the  enumeration  of  the  ingredients 
thrown  into  it :  "  Oh,  mon  Dieu !  quel  melange ! " 

A  burlesque  of  "  Virginius  "  was  produced  at  the  Theatre  des  Va- 
rietes,  in  which  Odry,  a  French  actor  of  broad  comedy,  imitated  Ma- 
cready, dressed  as  a  Roman  centurion,  but  adding  an  English  element 
to  the  costume,  by  wearing  leather  breeches  and  top-boots. 

In  a  letter  from  Paris  to  his  wife,  of  this  date,  Macready  wrote :  "  I 
am  considerably  fatigued,  as  I  play  in  earnest  here  and  feel  it  for  some 
days  afterwards  ;  but  I  am  more  than  repaid  in  the  sort  of  transport 
that  seems  excited  among  the  literary  and  fashionable.  I  endeavor  to 
procure  every  paper  for  you,  that  you  may  yourself  judge  of  the  de- 
gree and  interest  of  the  sensation." 

The  criticisms  which  Macready  forwarded  from  Paris  to  his  wife  are 
well  considered,  thoughtful,  and  appreciative,  and  show  a  real  knowl- 
edge of  English  literature  and  art.  The  following  extracts  will  give 
some  idea  of  their  value,  and  the  last  one  supplies  the  account  of  an 
occasion  when  Macready  was  "  recalled,"  contrary  to  the  regulations 
of  the  French  theater.] 

La  Reunion.     18  avril,  1828. 

"  Salle  Favart  — '  Virginius '  —  Tragedie  en  cinq  actes,  de  Knowles. 

—  C'est  a  Macready  que  je  m'attache :  lui  seul  est  Tame  de  la  piece. 
....  Qui  croirait  que  cet  homme,  a  qui  la  nature  a  tout  refuse 

—  voix,  port  et  physionomie  —  put  atteindre  aussi  haut   que  notre 
Talma,  pour  qui  elle  avait  tout  fait  ?     Ce  prodige,  qu'on  raconte  de  Le 
Kain  Macready  le  realisait  hier.   Jamais  acteur  n'a  plus  completement 
disparu  pour  faire  place  au  personnage :  jamais  de  plus  terribles  Emo- 
tions ne  se  sont  presse"es  sur  le  visage  d'un  homme,  pour  passer  dans 
le  coeur  de  ceux  qui  le  regardaient ;  1'illusion  etait  complete,  et  deven- 
ait  presque  une  souffrance.     Expliquer  de  telles  impressions  qui  1'es- 
saierait  ?    C'est  beaucoup  de  pouvoir  les  soutenir  ;  et  j'avoue  que  pour 
moi,  qui  n'arrive  pourtant  pas  tout  neuf  aux  effets  du  theatre,  cet  effort 


1828.  PERFORMANCES  IN  PARIS.  239 

a  fini  par  m'etre  entierement  impossible.  On  a  honte  de  dire  qu'on  a 
sanglotte  au  spectacle ;  cependant,  quelques  personnes  m'ont  avoue 
que  leur  emotion  avait  ete  poussee  jusque-la  ;  et  j'aime  mieux  mettre 
ici  leur  confidence  que  la  mienne.  On  m'a  dit  que  Miss  Smithson  a 
ete  admirable  au  moment  de  1'agonie  dans  la  lutte  de  1'honneur  contre 
1'amour  de  la  vie :  je  n'en  ai  rien  vu ;  il  y  avait  deja  quelques  instants 
que  je  ne  pouvais  plus  regarder." 


L?  Incorruptible.    19  avriL  1828. 

"Macready  dans '  Virginius'  —  Ce  trage*dien  n'excelle pas  seulement 
dans  un  genre  exclusif :  presque  egal  a  Talma  dans  les  passages  tou- 
chants  et  terribles,  il  se  montre  aussi  beau  que  Lafont  dans  les  mouve- 
ments  chevaleresques.  II  a  fait  verser  des  larmes  dans  la  scene  des 
fiangailles  ;  .  .  .  .  je  n'essaierai  pas  d'exprimer  les  affreuses  emotions 
qu'on  eprouve  au  moment  de  la  catastrophe.  Macready  abuse  peut-etre 
un  peu  de  cet  horrible  situation  :  il  dent  trop  longtemps  le  couteau 
suspendu  sur  le  spectateur  ;  on  1'admirerait  plus  si  Ton  souffrait  moins. 
....  1'ame  dechiree  avait  besoin  de  voir  perir  1'infame  Appius  :  Vir- 
ginius  en  demence  1'etrangle  dans  sa  prison.  Nous  conseillons  a  quel- 
que  peintre  d'aller  voir  Macready  dans  la  derniere  scene,  lorsque,  agen- 
ouille  pres  du  cadavre  d' Appius  qu'il  vient  d'etouffer,  les  yeux  fixes,  la 
bouche  beante,  il  semble  frappe"  d'une  epouvantable  stupeur :  ce  ta- 
bleau est  de  ceux  qui  ne  sortent  jamais  de  la  memoire." 

Journal  des  Debats. 

"  Othello.  —  Le  role  d'Othello  n'a  pas  e*te  moins  favorable  hier  a 
Macready  que  1'avaient  ete  precedemment  ceux  de  Virginius,  de  Wil- 
liam Tell  et  d'Hamlet.  L'anonnce  que  cette  representation  etait  la 
derniere  dans  laquelle  nous  verrions  ce  grand  acteur  avait  rempli  la 
salle,  et  Macready  semble  avoir  voulu,  en  redoublant  d'efforts  et  de 
talent,  redoubler  les  regrets  que  son  depart  doit  exciter.  Sans  etablir 
de  parallele  entre  lui  et  les  deux  celebres  tragediens  anglais  qui  Font 
precede  dans  le  meme  role  (Kean  et  Kemble),  on  a  generalement  re- 
rnarque  que  par  des  moyens  differents  Macready  savoit  arriver  au 
meme  but,  et  devenir  leur  egal  sans  etre  leur  imitateur.  Non  moins 
admirable  dans  les  mouveinents  d'une  douce  sensibilite  ....  que 
dans  les  transports  d'une  jalousie  effrenee  et  dans  les  exces  de  1'epou- 
vantable  vengeance  qu'elle  lui  inspire,  il  a  tour  a  tour  attendri,  emu, 
effraye  les  spectateurs,  et  n'a  point  laisse  a  la  reflexion  le  temps  de 
s'arreter  aux  inegalities  bizarres  qui  defigurent  1'un  des  chefs-d'oeuvre  de 
Shakespeare.  Le  triomphe  de  1'acteur  a  ete  complet,  et  apres  la  piece 
il  a  e"te  redemande  avec  des  acclamations  si  franchement  unanimes  que 
Ton  ne  congoit  pas  qu'on  ait  voulu  s'opposer  a  un  vceu  aussi  sincere  et 
aussi  innocent  au  reglement  de  police,  qui  par  sa  tyrannique  absurdite 
devroit  etre  considere  comme  aboli  avec  le  pouvoir  d'ou  il  tiroit  son 


240  UACREADT'S  DIARIES.  1828. 

existence.  Cependant  Abbot  s'est  cru  oblige*  de  venir  la  rappeler  au 
public,  qui  a  trouve  un  moyen  tres-plaisant  de  I'dluder,  sans  que  M.  1(3 
Commissaire  de  police  put  s'en  offenser  ou  se  croire  compromis.  Un 
grand  nombre  de  jeunes  gens  se  sont  rendus  au  theatre,  et  ont  invite' 
Macready  a  descendre  avec  eux  a  1'orchestre  des  musiciens.  A  la  vue 
de  1'acteur,  que  son  costume  faisait  facilement  reconnaitre,  les  bravos 
et  les  battements  de  main  ont  eclate  dans  toutes  les  parties  de  la  salle, 
et  les  amis  qui  entouraient  Macready,  interpretant  les  desirs  du  public, 
ont  saisi  Macready  a  bras-le-corps,  et  malgre  une  resistance  modeste, 
1'ont  porte  sur  1'avant-scene.  C'est  la  qu'il  a  regu  de  1'assemblee  des 
adieux  qui  ont  paru  produire  sur  lui  une  vive  impression." 

[Macready's  engagement  in  Paris  on  this  occasion  was  for  three 
weeks,  at  £100  a  week.] 

April  28th. —  Drury  Lane  engagement. 

May  23d.  —  Last  night  at  Drury  Lane,  and  benefit. 

[The  receipts  of  this  engagement  of  four  weeks  were  £440.] 

May  2Qth.  —  Birmingham. 

June  9lh. — Taunton. 

12th.  — Bridge  water. 

23d.  —  Second  engagement  at  Paris. 

[£100  a  week  for  four  weeks.] 

July  2±th.  —  London. 

28th.  —  Exeter  (5  nights). 

August  7th.  —  Swansea. 

llth.  —  Birmingham  (1  fortnight). 

September  8th.  — Yarmouth  (4  nights). 

1 5th.  —  Cambridge  (1  week). 

29th.  —  Lincoln  (3  nights). 

October  Qth.  —  Shrewsbury  (3  nights). 

13th.  —  Liverpool  (1  fortnight). 

27th.  —  Nottingham  (5  nights). 

[From  Nottingham  Macready  wrote  to  his  wife,  who  had  been  urg- 
ing him  to  leave  the  stage,  and  discussing  the  place  of  their  future  res- 
idence :  "  Where  to  live  ?  "  "  Will  you  go  to  Rotterdam,  Seringapa- 
tam,  Chippenham,  any  f  ham  ?  '  We  young  fellows  roam  about.  Are 
we  to  return  to  Wales,  or  vegetate  at  Pinner  ? 1  Settle  where  you 
like.  Wherever  thou  art  will  seem  Erin  to  me ! "] 

November  10th.  —  Bury  St.  Edmunds  (4  nights). 

17th.  —  Sheffield  (5  nights). 

24/A.  —  Cardiff  (4  nights). 

December  1st.  —  Bristol  (6  nights). 

9M.  —  Wolverhampton  (3  nights). 

17th.  —  Colchester  (4  nights). 

26^. —  Ipswich  (4  nights). 

[Total  receipt  of  year,  £2,361  IGs.  3d. 

1  Macready  was  now  residing  at  Pinner  Wood,  Middlesex,  three  miles  beyond 
Harrow,  and  about  fifteen  miles  distant  from  Covcnt  Garden  and  Drury  Lane 
Theaters.  —  ED. 


1830.  DEATH  OF  FATHER.  241 

Expenditure,  £1,953  4s.  Wd. 

The  plays  chiefly  performed  during  the  English  provincial  engage- 
ments in  1828  were,  "  Othello,"  "  Virginius,"  "  Macbeth,"  "  William 
Tell,"  "  Hamlet."] 

1829. 

January  1st.  —  Ut  bene  merear  de  hominibus  gestisque  bonis 
favorem  tuum  adipiscar,  O  Deus  omnipotens  !  precibus  meis  concede 1 

January  oth.  —  Plymouth. 

18th. —  Bath. 

22rf,  etc.  [Engagements  at  Bristol,  Stratford,  Warwick,  Grantham, 
Pontefract,  Halifax,  Newcastle,  Shields,  Greenock,  Kilmarnock.] 

March  6th. —  Belfast  (6  nights). 

23d  to  April  1st. —  Worcester,  Northampton,  Stamford. 

April  llth.  —  On  this  day  my  dear  father  died.  May  the  God  of 
Mercy  give  grace  to  his  departed  spirit,  and  receive  him  into  his  eter- 
nal peace. 

April  18th. —  Followed  my  dear  father's  body  to  his  grave.  0 
God,  bless  and  receive  him,  and  spare  me  further  trials  of  such  a  nat- 
ure. Amen. 

April  19th.  —  Reached  my  dear,  dear  home.  Praised  and  blessed 
be  the  name  of  God  for  all  His  mercies  and  goodness  to  me. 

May  llth. —  Bristol  —  close  the  theatre  —  [for  his  father's 
widow.] 

[No  entries  —  time  apparently  spent  at  home.] 

August  24th.  —  Swansea. 

September  3d.  —  Returned  home. 

October  Q(h.  • —  Brighton  (4  nights). 

12th.  —  Liverpool  (6  nights). 

19th.  —  Birmingham  (5  nights). 

28th.  —  Leicester. 

November  1  Qth.  —  Glasgow  (6  nights). 

25th.  —  Edinburgh.  Performing  "  Virginius,"  "  Hamlet,"  "  Mac- 
beth," «  Othello,"  "  William  Tell,"  "  Cymbeline,"  "  Venice  Preserved," 
"  King  John." 

[The  year  ends  with  a  short  Latin  prayer  of  thanks  and  praise. 
Total  receipts  for  1829,  £2,265  10s.  2d. 
Expenditure,  £2,223  16s. 


1830. 

[In  the  pocket-book  for  1830,  commences  the  practice,  yearly  con- 
tinued, and  with  occasional  additions,  of  copying  certain  sentences  and 

1  Almighty  God,  grant  to  my  prayers,  that  I  may  deserve  well  of  men,  and  by 
my  good  actions  obtain  thy  favor.  — "ED.  TBANS. 
16 


242  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1830. 

maxims  for  the  guidance  of  life,  into  the  blank  leaves  at  the  beginning 
of  the  book.     In  the  present  book  occur  the  following  :] 

O  teach  us  to  number  our  days  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom. 


The  art  of  life  consists  very  much  in  not  suffering  ourselves  to  be  annoyed  by 
trifles.  The  detail  of  an  account  is  of  little  consequence,  if  the  sum  total  is  in 
our  favor.  A  wise  man  will  not  stop  to  vex  himself  about  petty  items,  but  turns 
at  once  to  the  bottom  of  the  page. 


[There  are  also  a  couplet  of  short  prescriptions  of  laudauum  and 
antimonial  wine  for  a  cold ;  and  of  sal  volatile  as  a  lotion  for  a  re- 
laxed throat.  A  list  of  prompt  books  is  copied,  indicating  the  plays 
in  which  Macready  was  chiefly  performing  during  the  year  :  "  Mac- 
beth," "  Othello,"  "  Virginias,"  "  Hamlet,"  «  King  John,"  "  Corio- 
lanus,"  "Henry  VIIL,"  "William  Tell,"  "Henry  V.,"  "Werner," 
"  Fatal  Dowry,"  "  Damon  and  Pythias,"  "  Venice  Preserved,"  "  Re- 
venge," "  Julius  Caesar,"  "  Cymbeline,"  "  Rob  Roy,"  "  King  Lear," 
"  Jane  Shore,"  "  As  you  Like  It."] 

January  1st.  —  Anno  ineunte,  tibi,  Deus,  precor,  tutamen,  auxilium, 
solamenque  semper  mihi  adsis !     Revereri  et  amare  te,  O  magne  vir- 
tutis  Spiritus  !  virtutemque,  dum  vivo,  me  colere,  precibus  meis  con 
cede.    Amen.1 
.    January  llth.  —  Portsmouth  (4  nights). 

18th.  —  Bristol  (1  week). 

February  5th.  —  Bristol  again  (1  night). 

8th.  —  Bath. 

15th.  —  Manchester  (5  nights). 

22d.  —  Dublin. 

26th.  —  Sold  my  engagements  at  Dublin  and  Cork  (altering  the 
fortnight  at  Cork  to  Dublin),  to  Mr.  Bunn  for  £600,  to  conclude  on 
Saturday,  April  3d,  to  be  paid  £300,  Saturday,  March  13th,  and  the 
remaining  £300  on  April  1 3th. 

April  2d.  —  Gave  up  £100  to  Mr.  Bunn  in  consequence  of  the  ill 
success  of  the  engagement 

April  4th.  —  Saw  my  Catherine  and  Letitia  sail  for  England. 

5th.  —  Belfast.     [Giant's  Causeway,  etc.,  visited.] 

Sth.  —  Coleraine. 

17th.  —  Dublin. 

18th.  —  Sailed  for  England. 

May  8th.  —  Hereford  (4  nights). 

14/A.  —  Ludlow  (2  nights). 

1  With  the  opening  year,  I  pray  thee,  O  God,  be  with  me,  ever  my  defense,  my 
aid,  and  my  comfort,  and  grant  to  my  prayers  that  I  may  revere  and  love  Thee, 
Great  Spirit  of  goodness  ;  and  while  I  live  that  I  may  seek  after  goodness.  Amen 
—  ED.  TRANS. 


1831.  BIRTH  OF  ELDEST  DAUGHTER.  243 

31st.  —  Birmingham  (7  nights). 

June  8th,  etc.  —  Lichfield,  Stem-bridge,  Ashby. 

24th.  —  Sponsalis  dies  meus.  Beatum  sit  nomen  Dei  optimi,  qui 
mihi  tantam  felicitatem  prasbuit  permisitque.  Auctor  virtutis,  om- 
nisque  boni,  in  me  meosque  caritatem  tuam  ostendas  perennem  humil- 
iter  te  oro  ! l 

July  31st.  —  Entered  into  an  engagement  with  Mr.  A.  Lee,  for  three 
years  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre.  £30  per  week  and  half  a  clear  benefit 
for  the  first  season  ;  £40  per  week  and  half  a  clear  benefit  for  the  two 
following  seasons. 

August  4th. —  "Went  to  London.  Saw  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence's 
gallery. 

1  ±th.  —  Cork.    Macbeth.    Played  it  naturally  and  forciby  (8  nights) . 

30th.  —  Yarmouth  (5  nights). 

September  6th.  —  Margate  (3  nights). 

24Jh.  —  Leicester. 

27th.  —  Scarborough. 

October  4th.  —  Liverpool  (1  week). 

llth.  —  Reached  Elstree 2  from  Birmingham  :  arrived  at  Elm  Place. 
L.  D. 

13th.  —  Open  at  Drury  Lane. 

14th.  —  Went  to  London  to  read  "  Werner  "  to  Mr.  Morton.  —  Re- 
turned  to  Elm  Place. 

loth.  —  Saw  Mr.  Ainsworth  on  Arteveldt. 

1  Qth.  —  Went  to  London.     Rehearsed  "  Virginius." 

November  15th. —  Plymouth  (5  nights). 

17th.  —  Dined  with  Macaulay. 

21st.  —  Arrived  in  London. 

25th.  —  Werner.     Succeeded.     L.  D. 

December  2Qth.  —  This  morning  it  pleased  Almighty  God  to  bless 
me  with  the  gift  of  a  beloved  daughter.3 

[The  professional  receipts  of  the  year  1830,  are  entered  separately, 
and  show  a  total  of  £1,817  15s.  Id.  for  thirty-nine  weeks'  perform- 
ances in  the  provinces  and  at  Drury  Lane.] 


1831. 

[In  the  blank  leaves  at  the  commencement  of  the  pocket-book  for 
1831,  a  passage  from  Cicero's  "  Offices  "  (I.  25,  28)  is  added  to  the 
entries  of  the  preceding  year  :] 

1  My  wedding  day.    Blessed  be  the  name  of  God,  who  has  given  and  permitted 
to  me  so  much  happiness.     Author  of  excellence  and  of  all  good,  I  humbly  be- 
seech Thee  to  show  Thy  never-failing  love  to  me  and  mine.  —  ED.  TEANS. 

2  Macready  was  now  living  at  Elm  Place,  Elstree,  on  the  borders  of  Middlesex 
and  Hertfordshire,  three  miles  beyond  Edgware,  and  about  thirteen  miles  from 
the  two  great  theaters.  —  ED. 

8  Christina  Letitia  (Nina)  :  died  24th  February,  1850.  —  ED. 


244  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1831. 

Nihil  laudabilius,  nihil  magno  et  praeclaro  viro  dignius,  plncabilitate  atque  de- 
mentia. ....  Exercenda  eat  etium  facilitas  et  altitude  animi  ....  ne,  si 
irascamur  aut  intempestive  acccdentibus  aut  impudentcr  rogantibus,  in  morosita- 
tcm  inutilem  ct  odiosam  incidamus.1 


January  IGth. —  Catherine  comes  down  to  dinner.  Laus  gratiaeque 
Deo!  - 

24^.  —  "  William  Tell."  Called  for  by  the  audience.  [And  the 
same  entry  occurs  on  the  29th.] 

31st. —  Bristol.     Bath  (1  week). 

February  21th.  —  Lodgings  in  Norton  Street.  Dine  with  Mr. 
Harley,  14  Upper  Gower  Street,  six  o'clock. 

28th.  —  Saw  Kean  in  Brutus. 

March  2d.  —  Breakfast  with  Fred.  Reynolds.  Met  Bernal,  Colonel 
Cradock,  Lady  Blessington,  Comte  and  Comtesse  D'Orsay. 

14th.  —  Macbeth.     Called  for  by  the  audience.     L.  D. 

April  8th.  —  "  Pledge." 2  [New  tragedy  (performed  8  nights).] 

llth.  —  Talfourd,  Birch,  Cooper,  and  Knowles  supped. 

23d.  —  Sign  Lease  of  Elm  Place.     Shakespeare's  B.  D. 

18^.  — Alfred  the  Great8  (15  nights). 

May  10th.  —  Sent  excuse  and  donation  (£5)  to  the  Literary  Fund. 

llth.  —  Literary  Fund  Dinner  —  "  Werner." 

18th.  —  Sent  advertisements  for  benefit.     Sent  bills  for  ditto. 

24th.  —  "  Virginius."     Called  for  by  the  audience.     L.  D. 

27th.  —  Benefit.  Deus  benigne  adsis.  "  Coriolanus,"  "  Critic,"  "  Blue 
Beard."  [The  proceeds  of  the  benefit  appear  to  have  been  £176  2s.] 

30th.  —  Dine  with  O'Hanlon4  half-past  6  o'clock. 

June  1st.  —  "Coriolanus."  Played  better  than  first  night.  My 
friend  Jackson  died.  Requiescat. 

2d.  —  "  Jealous  Wife."  Received  a  note  from  Captain  Polhill  offer- 
ing £30  per  week  for  next  season. 

7th.  —  Dine  with  Talfourd  quarter  past  six  o'clock. 

9th.  —  Went  to  poor  Jackson's  funeral. 

13th.  —  Last  night,  Drury  Lane. 

14th.  —  Mr.  Lee's  benefit. 

July  1st.  —  Went  to  town.     Dined  with  H.  Smith. 

2d.  —  Town.     Dined  with  Bourne. 

3d.  —  Came  home. 

1  Nothing  is  more  excellent,  nothing  more  worthy  of  a  noble  and  great  man 
than  forbearance  and  a  placable  disposition.  We  should  also  be  mindful  to  ob- 
serve a  certain  courtesy  not  uncombined  with  reserve,  and  to  avoid  anger  at  ill- 
timed  visitors  and  impertinent  requests ;  otherwise  we  incur  the  risk  of  falling 
into  an  habitual  ill-humor  as  annoying  as  it  is  unprofitable  —  ED.  TRANS. 

8  The  Pledge ;  or,  Castilian  Honor,  an  adaptation  from  Victor  Hugo's  Her- 
nani —  Macready's  part  was  Don  Leo.  —  ED. 

8  By  Sheridan  Knowles.  —  ED. 

*  Hugh  Marmaduke  O'Hanlon,  afterwards  counsel  to  the  Irish  Office  in  Lon- 
don. —  ED. 


1831.  EARLY  RAILWAY  TRAVELING.  245 

llth.  —  Insured  my  life  for  £2,999. 

August  4th.  —  Wrote  to  Edward.  Came  to  town.  Saw  ancient 
masters.1  Went  to  House  of  Commons.  Dined  H.  Smith. 

8th*  —  Swansea  (4  nights). 

15th.  —  Leeds  (6  nights). 

21s^.  —  Came  by  coach  to  Manchester,  and  thence  hy  railway  to 
Liverpool  in  less  than  an  hour  and  a  half. 

22d.  —  Liverpool  (6  nights). 

September  10(h.  —  Settled  with  Mr.  Bunn  an  engagement  with  Cap- 
tain Polhill  for  two  years  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  at  £30  per  week  in- 
cluding Lent,  with,  at  the  same  time,  leave  of  absence  during  Lent 
and  half  a  clear  benefit.  Benefit  on  Monday.  Orders. 

14th.  —  Mr.  Knowles  undertakes  to  do  for  me  scenes  in  "  Maid's 
Tragedy  "  for  half  the  profits. 

[The  following  entry  is  one  of  several  similar  ones  and  shows  how 
closely  Macready  attended  to  his  farming  affairs  in  the  country  :] 

22d.  —  Vacca  impregnata. 

26th.  —  Shrewsbury  (3  nights). 

October  1st.  —  Drury  Lane  Theater  opens.  Take  lodgings,  £1  5s. 
per  week,  Is.  each  fire,  for  one  month. 

10^.  —  Walked  to  St.  Alban's.  Saw  Abbey,  St.  Michael's,  Lord 
Bacon's  monument,  Roman  Wall,  etc.  Returned  in  chaise. 

14th.  —  Saw  Kean  in  "  Othello." 

15^.  —  Read  the  "  Bridal"  to  Morton.  Approved.  Kean  in  -Sir 
Edward  Mortimer. 

18th.  —  Signed  an  agreement  with  Captain  Polhill.  Went  to  Els- 
tree. 

20th.  —  Delivered  MS.  of  "  Bridal  "  to  the  managers. 

29th.  —  Read  the  "  Bridal."     Middling  effect. 

November  10th.  —  "  Bridal"  rejected. 

28th.  —  Saw  Young  in  "  Zanga."     Very  good. 

December  1st.  —  Agreed  for  Dublin.  £300  secured  for  three  weeks. 
Terms  :  clear  thirds,  Mondays  and  Saturdays  ;  clear  fourths,  Tuesdays 
and  Thursdays.  Divide  the  benefit. 

9th.  —  Came  to  town  and  returned  to  Ellstree  in  the  evening. 

22d.  —  Ellen's  2  half  year  due.     Walked  down  to  Elstree. 

26th.  —  Filia  mea  amatissima  nata  est.  Deus  parens  protege,  dirige, 
et  adjuva  earn  !  3  (Nina's  birthday). 

[The  total  of  receipts  from  all  sources  in  1831,  is  entered  at  £2,026 
2s.  Id.  ;  of  payments,  at  £2,267  11s. 


1  The  exhibition  formerly  held  annually  at  the  British  Gallery,  Pall  Mall  —  on 
the  site  now  occupied  by  the  Marlborough  Club.  —  ED. 

2  Macready's  sister,  to  whom  he  made  a  yearly  allowance.  —  ED. 

3  My  dearest  daughter  born.     May  God  protect,  direct,  and  help  her  as  a  par 
ent  !  —  ED.  TRANS. 


246  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1832. 


1832. 

[In  the  book  of  1832,  the  following  sentences  appear  for  the  first 
time:] 

"  The  elevation  of  the  mind  ought  to  be  the  principal  end  of  all  our  studies 
which  if  they  do  not  in  some  measure  effect,  they  are  of  very  little  sen-ice  to  us." 


h&V  iptffTfVflV.1 


February  6th.  —  "  Hamlet."     Played  naturally  and  considerately. 

23d.  —  My  darling  child  walked  alone.     L.  D. 

28th.  —  "  Richard  III."     Acted  naturally  and  earnestly. 

March  1st.  —  "  Macbeth."     Played  really  well. 

5th.  —  Bath.     Bristol  (4  nights). 

12th.  —  Manchester  (5  nights). 

19th.  —  Dublin  (4  weeks). 

April  3d.  —  "  Winter's  Tale."  Acted  indifferently.  Violent  and 
indiscriminate. 

4th.  —  Dined  with  Colonel  D'Aguilar. 

6th.  —  Dine  with  Captain  Bolton.  Invited  by  the  60th  Rifles' 
mess. 

7th.  —  "  Werner."  Not  acted  well.  Distressed  by  people  round 
me. 

10th.  —  "  Virginius."  Bespeak  of  Garrison.  My  cold  still  very 
bad,  and  little  expectation  of  losing  it  while  here.  Very  low  and  un- 
well. Acted  feebly  but  not  altogether  ineffectually.  Very  ill. 

llth.  —  No  play  to-night  in  consequence  of  my  health. 

12th.  —  "  Macbeth."  Very  unwell  indeed.  Much  disinclined  to 
act,  but  acted  well  —  really  well.  Thought  of  an  improvement  in 
third  act.  Tenderness  to  Lady  Macbeth.  Physician  came  on  too 
late,  half  undressed,  holding  his  clothes  ! 

13th.  —  "Pizarro."  Better,  but  not  well.  Acted  with  effect,  and 
not  altogether  badly. 

14th.  —  "  Rob  Roy."  Acted  indifferently.  Called  for  by  audience, 
and  spoke  pretty  well. 

ISth.  —  Traveled  from  Shrewsbury  to  St.  Alban's  in  the  Wonder 
coach.  Reached  my  dear  home  at  half-past  eight.  All  well,  thank 
the  good  God. 

21st.  —  Went  to  London.  Saw  Bunn.  Business.  Took  lodgings, 
19  Argyll  Street,  at  £2  12*.  Gd.  per  week. 

26^.  —  "  Merchant  of  London."  8     Play  went  very  greatly. 

1  Strive  ever  to  excel.  —  ED. 

2  By  Serle.    Macready's  part  was  Scroope.  —  ED. 


1832.  YOUNG'S  FAREWELL.  247 

30th.  —  Farren's  benefit.     Home.     Rabbits  bought.     Cough  bad. 

May  5th.  —  "  Merchant  of  London."  Acted  pretty  well.  Wretched 
house. 

1th.  —  Late  for  coach.  Stayed  at  Elstree.  Day  of  idlesse  and 
sunshine  in  the  garden.  Walked  over  to  Edgware. 

12th.  —  Dine  at  Garrick  Club.  Dinner  to  Lord  Mulgrave.  Very 
kindly  noticed  in  his  speech.  Came  away  as  they  were  about  to 
drink  my  health.  Not  nerve  for  it. 

14th.  —  Benefit.  "Winter's  Tale,"  "Catherine  and  Petruchio." 
Acted  with  tolerable  spirit  to  the  worst  benefit  house  I  ever  played 
before  in  London ;  but  thank  God  for  all  He  gives. 

15th.  —  Went  home  by  Crown  Prince.  All  well.  Very  much  fa- 
tigued. Spent  the  day  in  the  garden. 

19th.  —  "  Virginius."  Selected  model  of  vase  for  Young.  Acted 
coldly  and  ill.  Played  with  naked  arms. 

21st. —  Harley's  benefit.     "Devil's  Bridge."     Inscription  for  vase. 

23d.  — "  Werner."  Dined  with  H.  Smith.  Acted  very  well. 
Preserved  an  erect  deportment  in  the  midst  of  passion,  and  let  the 
mind  act. 

24Jh.  —  Ordered  boat.  Laporte  took  Co  vent  Garden  Theater. 
"  School  for  Scandal."  Acted  pretty  well.  After  play  settled  pro- 
ceedings about  Young's  vase. 

25th.  —  Last  night.     Gave  inscription  and  names  to  Gass. 

28th.  —  Wrote  speech.     Garden  boat  arrived.     Launched  her. 

29th.  —  Went  to  London.  Rehearsed  with  Young,  Mathews,  etc. 
Strange  effect  on  entering  Co  vent  Garden  Theater  first  time  nine 
years.  Garrick  Club.  Dined  with  J.  Birch. 

30th.  —  Young's  benefit  and  last  night.  Act  for  him,1  "  Hamlet." 
Well  received  by  audience.  Went  into  orchestra.  Heard  Young's 
farewell.  Presented  vase  to  him.  Walked  home  with  Cooper. 

31st.  —  Dinner  to  Mr.  Young  by  Garrick  Club.  Proposed  Lord 
Clanricarde's  health. 

June  1st.  —  Rose  an  hour  too  soon.  Went  to  King's  Arms,  Snow- 
hill.  Crown  Prince  full.  Came  by  Hemel  Hempstead  coach.  Very 
unwell,  with  bad  headache  as  on  the  two  previous  days.  Soothed  and 
relieved  by  being  at  home.  Thank  God  for  my  home  ! 

2d.  —  Rowed  on  the  reservoir. 

9th.  —  Walked  to  Edgware  to  buy  plants.     Bees  swarmed. 

10th.  —  Talfourd,  etc.,  to  dine,  and  returned  to  town  in  the  evening. 
Talfourd  informed  me  of  Young  giving  my  health,  and  of  his  speech 
on  the  occasion. 

13th.  —  Paid  Gass  for  Young's  vase.  Lunched  at  Garrick  Club. 
Saw  Abbott,  Bartley.  Called  on  Young.  Gave  me  two  dresses. 

15th.  —  Go  to  Rugby  and  Birmingham.  At  Dunstable,  roasting 
oxen,  etc.,  to  celebrate  Reform.  Delight  to  see  human  happiness. 
Read  "  Quarterly  Review "  of  Mrs.  Trollope.  Slept  at  Hen  and 
Chickens. 

1  Macready  played  the  Ghost  for  Young's  benefit.  —  ED. 


248  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1832 

16th.  —  Went  to  Coventry.  St.  Mary's  Hall.  Costume  of  Henry 
VI.  St.  Michael's  Church.  Full  suit  of  plated  armor,  Henry  VII. — 
easy  to  imitate.  Trinity  Church.  Curious  fresco  of  Day  of  Judg- 
ment. Went  to  Rugby.  Melancholy  reflections  on  time  misspent 
through  ignorance  of  one's  own  capabilities.  Twenty-three  years  since 
I  left.  Slept  at  S.  Bucknill's. 

17th.  —  Rugby  so  altered.  Rural  character  quite  gone.  Saw  Birch. 
At  church,  heard  Moultrie  and  Page. 

18th.  —  Breakfasted  at  Bucknill's.  Posted  to  Daventry.  Crown 
Prince  coach  to  Elstree. 

20th.  —  An  idle  day.  Very  much  fatigued,  owing  to  bad  night 
through  the  dogs  barking.  Went  to  bed  early.  Finished  "  L'Jngenu." 

22d.  —  Read  in  "  Childe  Harold."  Cannot  like  the  style  or  senti- 
ment. 

23d.  —  Read  "  King  Lear."  Wordsworth  on  "  Imagination  and 
Fancy,"  also  some  of  his  poems.  "L'homme  aux  quarante  ecus" 
Very  tempestuous  day. 

24th. —  My  wedding  day. 

25th.  —  Went  to  London.  Looked  for  lodgings  for  Catherine.  Dined 
with  Cooper.  Went  to  the  Haymarket.  Saw  Kean  in  "  Richard." 
Pleased  with  his  energy.  Felt  his  want  of  abstraction  in  his  soliloquies, 
and  his  occasional  tricks. 

2Gth.  —  Went  to  the  exhibition.  Wilkie's  pictures.  Mulready, 
Etty,  Phillips  Saw  the  Fleas ;  offensive  and  frivolous.  Saw  "  Robert 
le  Diable."  Much  pleased  with  the  Nourrit *  and  Levasseur.  A  bad 
plan  of  amusement. 

27th.  —  Called  on  Sheil.  Not  at  home.  Went  to  Committee  of 
House  of  Commons.  Examined.2  Home  by  Billing's. 

1  Nourrit,  the  great  tenor,  for  whom  the  opera  was  written.  —  ED. 

2  Macready  does  not  appear  to  have  prepared  any  statement  for  the  Committee, 
but  simply  answered  the  questions  put  to  him.  His  evidence,  as  printed  in  the  "  Re- 
port of  the  Select  Committee  of  the  House  of  Commons  on  Dramatic  Literature, 
1832,"  is  not  long,  and  it  may  be  interesting  to  state  shortly  the  opinions  obtained 
from  him.    He  thought  that  due  effect  could  not  be  given  to  most  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  in  a  small  theater,  but  wished  Covent  Garden  and  Drury  Lane  somewhat  re- 
duced in  size.     He  considered  it  almost  impossible  to  congregate  an  efficient  com- 
pany in  any  one  small  theater  ;  and  that  more  theaters  open  would  not  make  more 
good  actors.     He  said  there  was  not  then  the  same  quantity  of  dramatic  talent  in 
the  provincial  theaters  as  fifteen  or  twenty  years  previously,  and  believed  the  pro- 
fession of  an  actor  to  be  so  unrequiting,  that  no  person  who  had  the  power  of  do- 
ing anything  better  would,  unless  deluded  into  it,  take  it  up.     He  would  not  allow 
the  minor  theaters  to  perform  the  legitimate  drama,  but  would  let  them  purchase 
new  five-act  plays,  so  as  to  extend  the  market  to  dramatic  authors;  but  admitted 
that,  during  two  years  of  his  existing  engagement  at  Drury  Lane,  "  Macbeth  " 
had  only  been  given  six  times,  "  Richard  "  five  times,  and  ''"Hamlet "  once.     To 
moderate  any  expectation  of  a  better  supply  of  good  actors  to  be  promoted  by  the 
multiplication  of  theaters,  he  pointed  out  that  in  a  nation  so  dramatic  as  France 
no  great  actor  had  appeared  since  the  death  of  Tulma.     He  attributed  the  decline 
of  the  drama  partly  to  the  greater  diffusion  of  books  and  facilities  for  reading,  and 
he  was  in  favor  of  giving  to  dramatic  authors  the  right  to  remuneration  from  all 
theaters  performing  their  pieces  ;  and  this  was  in  fact  afterwards  provided  for  by 
the  Dramatic  Authors'  Copyright  Act.  —  ED. 


1832.  MARS  AND  TAGLIONI.  249 

28th.  —  Cut  hay.  Went  over  garden  and  ground.  Read  a  little 
of  "  Hamlet."  Went  on  the  water.  Delightful  day.  Took  tea  in  the 
summer-house.  Read  over  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra."  Have  much 
doubt  of  its  effects.  Read  Wordsworth's  "  Female  Vagrant." 

29th. —  All  hay  carted,  looking  well.  Lovely  summer  day.  Home 
looks  and  feels  comfortable.  L.  D.  Began  copying  "  Antony  and 
Cleopatra."  Read  very  little  of  "  Lear."  Read  over  "  Maid's  Trag- 
edy." Much  pleased  with  it.  Read  with  attention  Alison  "On 
Taste."  Much  gratified,  though  not  always  agreeing  with  his  conclu- 
sions. 

30th.  —  Gave  James  a  notice  to  quit  —  one  month.  Resolved  to  do 
with  one  man-servant. 

July  2d.  —  Read  "  Hamlet "  and  practiced.  Sold  my  old  rick  of 
hay,  £3  10s.  per  load.  Tried  my  bows  in  the  field. 

5th.  —  Wrote  part  of  a  letter  to  the  Committee  on  Dramatic  Liter- 
ature, correcting  evidence.  Read  and  practiced  for  two  hours.  Un- 
packed and  deposited  fourteen  dozen  wine. 

7th.  —  Took  exercise  with  quoits. 

17 'th.  —  Letter  from  Bunn  and  offer  from  Newcastle  manager. 
Read  "  Lear "  for  upward  of  two  hours.  A  day  to  picture  sum- 
mer by.  Rowed  on  the  water  with  dear  Catherine.  Tended  my 
slips.  Wrote  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra." 

19th.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden.  Saw  Mars  and  Taglioni. 
Thought  highly  of  Mars  and  as  pleased  as  I  could  be  with  the  grace 
of  Taglioni. 

24:th.  —  Bathed.  Gardened.  Read  Pope.  Finished  Voltaire's 
"  Princesse  de  Babylone" 

25th.  —  Read,  thought,  and  practiced  in  my  profession.  The  re- 
ported marriage  of  L 's  daughter,  and  the  simultaneous  recol- 
lection of  an  air  sung  by  a  particular  person  in  my  younger  days,  led 
me  into  a  long  and  serious  meditation  on  the  ends  of  my  being. 
"  Perfectionner  mon  etre  "  ought  to  be  my  motto.  Is  it  ? 

27th.  —  Began  to  read  Juvenal.  Tried  to  read  the  review  of  Mrs. 
Somerville's  astronomical  work.  Found  it  too  scientific  to  be  intelli- 
gible to  me. 

28th.  —  Rose  and  bathed.  Read  and  practiced  Hamlet  and  Lear 
three  hours.  Wrote  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra."  Practiced  with  the 
bow.  Rowed  on  the  water.  Paid  James's  wages,  who  goes  on 
Monday.  Garden.  Read  Pope's  "  Epilogue  to  the  Satires."  Read 
Homer,  "  Antilochus  slaying  Melanippus.  Ajax's  speech.  Have  not 
been  very  idle  this  week. 

30th.  —  Read  and  practiced  Hamlet  and  Lear  three  and  a  half 
hours.  In  future  must  give  more  time  to  the  exercise  of  my  voice 
and  the  manner  of  my  voice.  A  most  lovely  evening,  the  thin  cres- 
cent of  the  moon  above  the  soft  orange  tints  in  the  west. 

3lst.  — Two  hours'  theatrical  studies.  Read  Livy's  character  of 
Hannibal  and  a  portion  of  Johnson's  "  Swift." 

August  2d.  — Rose,  5.30.     Garden.      Planted  shoots.      Read  and 


250  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1832. 

practiced  three  hours  professional.  Good.  Read  two  books  of  Pope's 
"  Dunciad."  Dissatisfied  with  the  coarseness  and  little  spite  of  the 
work  itself,  and  with  the  descent  of  so  great  a  man  to  such  a  revenge. 
Bed,  ten  minutes  past  11. 

4th.  —  Continued  "  Burke  on  the  Sublime."  Conjectural,  fanciful, 
and  unconvincing. 

1th.  —  Birth  of  a  son. 

8th.  —  An  idle  day,  which  in  duty  to  myself  and  my  dear  chil- 
dren must  not  be. 

13th.  —  Finished  Second  Satire  of  Juvenal.     A  lash  of  spikes. 

20th. —  Go  to  London.  Read  Tasso  on  journey  to  town.  Hair 
cut.  Ordered  wig  for  Lear.  British  Gallery,  gratified.  Walked  with 
Blanche*  to  panorama  of  Milan.  Went  to  Haymarket  to  see  the 
Hunchback  "  —  a  beautiful  play,  very  indifferently  acted. 

21st.  —  Dulwich  Gallery.     Wrote  criticism  on  the  "  Hunchback." 

23d.  —  To  Crayford.  Bourne  absent  —  left  note  and  followed  him. 
Saw  again  Wilson's  splendid  transparent-like  picture  —  bathers  and 
tower  reflected  in  the  stream,  etc.  A  pleasant  day  ;  returned  in  chaise 
to  town. 

28th.  —  Finished  writing  out  the  MS.  of  "Antony  and  Cleopatra." 
Finished  arrangement  of  "  Lear."  O'Hanlon  called. 

30th.  —  Rowed   for  some  time  on  the  water.     Rainy  and  stormy. 

31st.  —  To  London.  Went  to  Bedlam.  Kept  waiting  half  an  hour. 
Nerves  not  able  to  bear  it ;  came  away.  Bought  dressing- box  for 
Lotty.  Clock  for  kitchen. 

September  3d.  —  Brewster  sent  a  wig  for  Lear. 

4ith.  —  Mr.  Chalk  churched  my  dearest  Catherine,  and  named  my 
dearest  infant,  William  Charles.1  May  God  protect  and  bless  him. 
Read  Juvenal,  Hudibras,  Nardini's  "  Roma  Antica." 

7th.  —  Looked  through  "  Hamlet."  Read  some  of  Barry  Cornwall's 
poems. 

12th.  —  Lord  Grimston  and  friend  to  canvass.  Promised  not  to 
vote  against  him,  but  refused  to  vote  for  him.  Mr.  Alston  and  friends 
called.  Vote  declined. 

18th. —  Read  Harris's  "  Hermes."    Much  pleased  with  it. 

20th.  —  Theater.  Settled  plays,  etc.  Gave  in  "  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra." Called  on  H.  Smith.  Met  Cooper,  Harley. 

22d. —  Drury  Lane  opens.     Quod  felix  faustumque  mihi  sit 

23d.  —  Went  to  church  in  the  afternoon.  Packed  up  property 
box.  Arranged  and  settled  papers  for  my  departure. 

24th.  —  To  town.     Theater  at  two. 

25th.  —  Newspapers.  Read  of  Walter  Scott's  death  on  Friday  last. 
Whatever  his  defects,  a  very  great  man,  whose  loss  brings  sorrow  with 
it  Xalpc,  fjLcyd\r)  ^v^q  \  2  Walked  with  Mr.  Cooper  to  my  chambers, 
61  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  Signed  agreement,  £2  5s.  per  week.  Came 

1  Afterwards  in  the  Ceylon  Civil  Service.    Died  November  26th,  1871,  at  Put- 
talam,  Ceylon,  and  was  buried  at  Kandy.  —  ED. 

2  Farewell !  great  spirit !  —  ED.  TRANS. 


1832.  ACTS   WITH  KEAN.  251 

home  by  Reeves's  coach  outside.  Ordered  rick  to  be  cut.  Walked 
over  garden. 

28th. — Rehearsed  "  Pizarro."  News  of  robbery  of  geese  at  Elstree. 
Dined  on  sausage,  brown  bread,  and  soda-water.  Lay  down  on  bed. 
Acted  middlingly.  Very  much  cut  in  the  arms. 

30^.  —  Read  Colberg.1     Discovered  that  my  room  has  echoes. 

October  1st.  —  Breakfasted  at  Garrick  Club.  Colberg.  Acted  par- 
tially well.  Mr.  Bunn  gave  out. 

2d.  —  Newspapers,  middling,  middling.  They  persecute  me.  Why 
should  I  regard  them  ?  Acted  indifferently  —  Wallace,  O'Hanlon, 
Talfourd  came  to  my  room. 

3d.  —  Left  chambers.  Came  to  Elstree  by  Crown  Prince.  Moored 
my  boat  in  deep  water  to  secure  it  from  the  ruffians  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. 

4th.  —  Listened  to  Mr.  P 's  play.  Looked  at  him  attentively 

as  he  read,  considering  what  is  genius  ;  what,  vice  ;  what,  virtue  ? 

2th.  —  Read  Mr.  Oakley  the  whole  afternoon.  Played  it  a  little 
better  than  before. 

10th.  —  Read  over  "  Rolla."  Slept.  Acted,  not  well  —  not  col- 
lected —  not  taking  time  and  very  stiff.  Why  do  I  not  break  myself 
of  this  horrid  habit  ? 

13th.  —  Dined  at  Garrick.  Saw  Fladgate,  Calcraft,  Finch,  etc.  Saw 
Miss  A.  Smithson,  who  made  offers  for  Paris.  Answered  Pocock, 
declining  a  "  Scott "  character.  "  Rob  Roy."  Acted  tolerably  well, 
and  well  received.  The  procession  a  most  stupid  business ;  carried 
through  by  the  feeling  of  the  audience. 

15th.  —  "Macbeth."  —  Acted,  how?  took  pains  and  tried  to  be 
earnest,  but  the  audience  was  dull.  Was  it  not  my  fault  ?  I  am  in- 
clined to  think,  partially,  yes.  But  it  was  a  pageant 2  audience.  I 
roused  them  at  last. 

17th.  —  Came  by  Crown  Prince  to  Elstree.  Meditated  on  the 
nature  and  end  of  life.  On  the  beauty  and  vivifying  qualities  of  the 
physical  world.  Who  dares  say  it  is  not  undesigned  or  unsustained  ; 
looked  over  the  fences,  etc.,  of  the  fields,  and  gave  directions  about 
farm,  etc.  Read  some  of  Wycherly's  plays  —  coarse  and  obscene. 

November  26th.  —  Read  lago  in  bed.  Rehearsed  lago.  Met  Kean. 
Lay  down  on  bed.  Acted,  not  satisfactorily,  nervous.  Called  by  the 
audience.  Bourne,  Braham,  and  others  came  to  congratulate  me.3 

27th.  —  Looked  at  lago.    Played  well.    Chaise  to  Elstree. 

28th.  —  Pleasant  and  grateful  day  of  relaxation. 

2Sth.  —  Acted  lago  better  than  first  night.     Called  for  by  audience. 

1  In  Serle's  play,  called,  The  House  of  Colberg.  —  ED. 

2  A  procession  of  the  dramatic  characters  in  Scott's  novels,  was  introduced  upon 
the  stage  in  honor  of  the  great  author,  recently  deceased,  and  is  alluded  to  on  13th 
October,  above —  ED. 

8  On  this  occasion  Kean  and  Macready  acted  together  for  the  first  time.  They 
had  been  announced  to  alternate  the  parts  of  Othello  and  lago,  but  did  not  in  fact 
do  so.  Kean  played  Othello  only,  and  Macready  played  lago  only  during  their 
joint  performances.  —  ED. 


252  MACREADyS  DIARIES.  1832 

30th.  —  Rehearsed  Hotspur.  "Wrote  to  Marianne  Skerrett.  Let- 
ter from  Horace  Twiss.  "William  Tell."  Acted  my  best. 

December  1st.  —  Acted  Hotspur.  Hissed  by  a  Wolf,1  as  I  suspect, 
in  my  first  speech.  Played  with  much  spirit  at  the  end.  Supped 
with  Wallace  at  Piazza. 

2d. —  Dined  with  Harley,  6  o'clock,  Bannister,  Cartwright,  C. 
Mathews,  Hill,  Laporte,  etc. 

3d.  —  Went  to  see  carriage  at  Houlditch's.  Garrick  Club.  The- 
ater. Rehearsed,  not  well.  Went  home.  Read  lago.  Not  well. 
Played  well  and  ill.  With  more  self-possession,  but  less  finish  and 
ease.  Home  to  Elstree. 

October  21st.  —  Read  Mr.  Oakley. 

November  1st.  —  Rehearsed  "  School  for  Scandal."  Joseph  Surface 
and  Kitely.  Acted  pretty  well.  Came  home  to  tea.  Introduced  to 
Captain  Marryatt. 

Qth.  —  Heard  that  I  had  been  announced  two  days  for  lago.  An- 
gry :  foolishly  so. 

10th.  —  Lost  much  time  and  thought  in  useless,  vain,  and  bad  imag- 
inations referring  to  people  indifferent  to  me,  not  turning  my  eyes  to 
the  good  I  possess,  but  lashing  myself  into  a  state  of  irritation  which, 
if  it  were  wise  or  just  to  despise  anything  in  humanity,  should 
awaken  my  contempt.  Let  me  be  wiser,  0  God  ! 

12th.  —  Saw  two  acts  of  Kean's  "Hamlet."  Imperfect,  spiritless, 
uncharacteristic  recitation. 

loth. —  Read  lago.  Bought  toys  for  children.  Dined  at  Garrick 
Club.  Kitely.  Acted  very  well. 

22d.  —  Rehearsed  lago.  Very  nervous,  in  extremely  low  spirits. 
Came  home.  Thought  over  lago,  a  very  unhappy  state  of  mind. 
Little  beyond  my  home  to  comfort  me,  but  much  there. 

24th.    Went  to  town  by  Billing's.     Rehearsed  lago  in  saloon. 

December  10th.  —  lago.  Acted  well  when  Kean  did  not  interfere 
with  me.  Called  for  by  the  audience. 

llth.  —  Acted,  or  rather  repeated,  the  commonplaces  of  poor  Don 
Trueban,2  for  whom  I  felt  great  sorrow. 

12th.  —  Wrote  to  the  City  of  London  Literary  and  Scientific  In- 
stitution declining  to  lecture. 

loth.  —  "Men  of  Pleasure."     Acted  very  tamely. 

1 9th.  —  Rolla.  Acted  tolerably,  considering  I  had  no  previous 
thought  upon  it 

23d.  —  Talfourd,  Serle,  Fred.  Reynolds,  etc.,  at  Elstree.  Went  to 
St.  Alban's  in  carriage.  Spent  a  pleasant  holiday,  but  omitted  prayers 
in  the  evening, — wrong. 

1  The  "  Wolves  "  was  the  name  given  to  a  club,  or  supposed  club,  composed 
of  Kean's  supporters  and  admirers,  as  already  mentioned  in  the  Reminiscences. 
—  Bo. 

1  A  contemporary  criticism  states  that  "  Drury  Lane  management  gave  a  speci- 
men of  their  short-sighted  judgment  by  an  attempt  to  revive  that  senseless  pro- 
duction of  Don  Trueban,  called  Men  of  Pleasure.  Its  production  was  an  insult  to 
the  audience,  and  the  piece  was  condemned  at  once."  Macready's  part  was  Lord 
Bcllenden.  — ED. 


1833.  ADVANTAGES  OF  A   COUNTRY  HOME.  253 

24th.  - —  Talfourd  and  I  went  up  by  coach.  Party  went  in  carriage 
to  town. 

27th.  —  New  cow  bought.     (Cost  £13.) 

28^.  —  Read  over  lago.  Acted  very  well.  Kean  quite  strong  on 
his  legs  and  in  his  voice.  Called  for  by  the  audience  and  much  ap- 
plauded. L.  D.  Returned  to  Elstree  in  carriage. 

3lst. —  "Jane  Shore," — Acted  indifferently  from  want  of  previous 
study. 

[The  total  receipts  of  the  year  1832  passing  through  Messrs.  Ran- 
som and  Co.'s  books  appear  to  have  been  £1,680  Is.  9of. ;  and  the  ex- 
penditure, £1,423  3s.  5d.] 

1833. 

Elstree,  January  l$t.  —  "With  God's  merciful  help  I  trust  to  make 
my  conduct  and  use  of  time  during  this  year  more  acceptable  in  His 
sight  than  that  of  my  previous  life  has  been  ;  and  I  enter  upon  it  with 
prayers  for  His  blessings  on  my  children,  my  wife,  friends,  and  myself. 
Amen. 

2d.  —  My  performance  this  evening  of  Macbeth,  afforded  me  a 
striking  evidence  of  the  necessity  there  is  for  thinking  over  my  char- 
acters previous  to  playing,  and  establishing  by  practice,  if  necessary, 
the  particular  modes  of  each  scene  and  important  passage.  I  acted 
with  much  energy,  but  could  not  (as  I  sometimes  can,  when  holding 
the  audience  in  wrapt  attention)  listen  to  my  own  voice,  and  feel  the 
truth  of  its  tones.  It  was  crude  and  uncertain,  though  spirited  and 
earnest;  but  much  thought  is  yet  required  to  give  an  even  energy 
and  finished  style  to  all  the  great  scenes  of  the  play,  except,  perhaps, 
the  last,  which  is  among  the  best  things  I  am  capable  of.  Knowles  is 
ravished  with  his  own  acting,  and  the  supposed  success  it  has  met 
with.  I  wish  I  was  with  mine. 

3d.  —  Went  home  to  breakfast.  Spent  an  idle  but,  in  all  other 
respects,  a  happy  day.  A  well-spent  day  is  pleasing  while  it  lasts,  and 
pleasant  to  remember  when  forever  gone ;  a  day  of  mere  pleasure  is 
agreeable  in  its  passage,  but  regret  attends  its  close  in  the  reflection 
that  time  which  God  has  given  for  employment  has  been  squandered 
or  lost  in  idleness.  Compunction  is  injurious,  if  unproductive  of  im- 
provement. Let  my  revision  of  this  day  enable  me  to  be  more  reso- 
lute in  my  resistance  of  future  temptations,  and  teach  me,  for  my  own 
and  my  children's  good,  the  necessity  of  blending  activity  with  enjoy- 
ment. In  my  absence  from  home  I  am  sometimes  inclined  to  question 
the  prudence  of  living  so  far  from  town  ;  but  when  on  reaching  home 
I  taste  the  fresh  air  of  the  country,  look  over  its  extent  of  prospect, 
feel  in  a  manner  the  free  range  of  thought  and  sense  through  the  ex- 
panse of  earth  and  sky  surrounding  me,  I  confess  to  myself,  in  the 
delightful  sensations  I  experience,  that  such  enjoyment  is  worth  some 
sacrifice. 


254  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1833. 

4th.  —  My  acting  to-night  was  coarse  and  crude  —  no  identification 
of  myself  with  the  scene,  and,  what  increased  my  chagrin  on  the  sub- 
ject, some  persons  in  the  pit  gave  frequent  vent  to  indulgent  and  mis- 
placed admiration.  The  consciousness  of  unmerited  applause  makes 
it  quite  painful  and  even  humiliating  to  me.  I  thought  this  day  of 
taking  the  Bath  and  Bristol  theaters  :  it  will  probably  go  no  farther. 

5th.  —  I  have  made  a  proposal  to  take  the  Bath  and  Bristol  theaters 
for  a  short  season  during  Lent.  I  hope  my  vanity,  or  sanguine  desire 
of  gain,  has  not  misled  me  in  my  anticipations  and  dependencies.  I 
wish  to  procure  an  independence  for  my  dear  children,  and  I  think  this 
speculation  likely  to  be  productive  of  good  in  itself,  and  to  offer  me  a 
certainty  of  remoter  benefit. 

I  have  had  some  doubts  as  to  the  sum  in  which  I  should  subscribe 
to  Mrs.  Jackson's  print :  but  I  have  decided  upon  the  larger,  which  is 
still  much  less  than  I  wish  to  give.  I  know  that  I  expose  myself  to 
the  charge  of  imprudence  and  extravagance,  but  am  I  to  endeavor  to 
feed  the  widow  and  the  orphan  literally  with  the  crumbs  that  fall  from 
my  table  ?  I  cannot  so  interpret  the  text  of  that  Teacher,  Whose 
name  be  blessed  by  all  who  have  hearts  to  feel  the  love  He  taught. 

London,  8th.  —  Paid  some  visits  of  ceremony  —  unmeaning  hollow 
practices,  irksome  and  embarrassing  in  act  and  productive  of  no  good 

result.  I  allude  entirely  to  the  G s,  who  are  incomprehensible  to 

me :  if  they  like  me,  why  do  they  not  cultivate  my  society ;  if  they 
are  indifferent,  why  not  relinquish  my  acquaintance  ?  "  What  art 
thou,  thou  idol,  ceremony  ? "  Why  is  it  that  my  spirits,  rather  de- 
pressed before,  rose  when  I  saw  an  expression  of  discontent  on  the 

face  of  Mrs. at  the  retired  life  she  led  ?  Is  it  an  evil  feeling  ? 

I  think  not  —  or  that  principle  of  our  nature  that  makes  all  human 
happiness  comparative. 

$th.  —  In  attending  the  book-club  last  night,  I  was  furnished  with 
another  instance  of  that  silly  and  unamiable  ambition  so  common  in 
men,  particularly  little  men,  of  directing  and  legislating  for  others. 
Observation  of  the  errors  of  others  is  wise  or  uncharitable  according 
to  its  result  —  either  as  it  affords  us  a  practical  lesson  or  a  subject  to 
descant  upon.  This  morning  I  rose  betimes,  and  rode  outside  to  Els- 
tree.  I  felt  pleasure  in  this  little  instance  of  economy  both  in  time 
and  money.  A  beautiful  morning,  and,  though  misty  afterwards,  giv- 
ing me  the  opportunity  of  a  delightful  walk  with  my  wife  and  sister. 
In  the  afternoon  I  read  much  of  Frederick  II.'s  life :  an  evidence  of 
selfish  vanity  abusing  great  abilities,  and  brutal  subserviency  in  the 
men  who  tolerated  his  dominion  over  them. 

lltk.  —  Little  to  comment  on  to-day  beyond  my  own  loss  of  it. 
Rose  late,  and  omitted  dinner,  in  order  to  have  my  powers  more  at 
command  during  my  performance,  which  was  certainly  better  for  my 
abstinence.  I  n'nd  the  good  effect  of  that  natural  manly  tone  of  dia- 
logue, with  which  I  must  endeavor  to  improve  the  colloquial  ground- 
work of  my  acting.  This  evening  I  left  at  the  theater  for  the  man- 
agers a  tragedy  by  a  Mr.  Heraud,  a  dramatic  poet,  in  his  own  confident 


1833.  LORD  DOVER'S  "FREDERICK  II."  255 

opinion,  secure  of  success ;  perhaps  misled  by  the  injudicious  recom- 
mendation of  Mr.  Southey  which  led  him  to  experiment  in  tragic  com- 
position. Such  advice  leads  me  to  a  reluctant  doubt  of  the  Laureate's 
sincerity,  for  it  is  scarcely  possible  in  this  case  to  suppose  defect  of 
judgment.  Can  that  be  called  good-nature  which  shrinks  from  inflict- 
ing a  slight  pique  to  the  amour-propre  of  a  friend,  with  intent  to  cure 
his  mind  of  a  dangerous  and  still  strengthening  delusion  ?  it  is  selfish- 
ness, worldliness  —  anything  I  think  but  justice  or  kindness,  yet  how 
universally  practiced ! 

Ehtree,  January  12th.  — My  thoughts  wandering  on  idle,  vain,  un- 
profitable subjects ;  and  only  occasionally  resting  on  the  important 
consideration  of  economy  in  my  expenditure  for  the  sake  of  my  dear 
children.  Resumed  my  consideration  of  Othello,  to  which  my  mind 
must  be  given  up.  Visited  by  a  lady  (who  mistook  me  for  a  relation 
of  Mr.  Macready),  a  writer  of  seven  tragedies  and  various  farces  :  this 
is  one  of  the  many  who  waste  life  and  paper  in  their  hopeless  mockery 
of  employment.  Happy  to  return  home ;  began  with  great  delight 
Lardner's  volume  on  mechanics. 

\4dh.  —  This  day  I  had  marked  down  as  one  of  active  employment; 
began  the  morning  with  late  rising  and  lost  what  was  left  of  it  be- 
tween indolent  indecision,  perplexity  at  the  little  progress  made  in  ac- 
cumulating surplus,  and  considerations  of  means  to  economize  more 
effectually  in  our  general  expenses.  I  look  at  my  own  age,  the  un- 
certainty of  my  professional  income,  my  dear  children,  and  I  come  to 
the  resolution  that,  for  my  own  continued  happiness,  it  is  essential 
money  should  be  put  by  to  insure  a  provision  for  them.  May  the 
blessing  of  God  confirm  my  good  intentions,  and  prosper  my  en- 
deavors. 

15^.  —  Finished  Lord  Dover's  "  Life  of  Frederick  II."  —  a  book 
of  extracts  from  the  various  amusing  memoirs  of  that  king's  con- 
temporaries —  a  compilation,  whose  only  merit  is  that  of  bringing 
together  scattered  anecdotes  of  that  ill-named,  heartless  man,  offering 
no  glimpse  of  rational  elucidation  of  such  points  of  character  as  have 
perplexed  inquirers,  and  never  attempting  to  penetrate  beyond  the 
surfaces  of  such  men  and  things  as  the  narration  brings  under  his  no- 
tice. Such  treatment  of  a  character  so  fertile  in  lessons  of  political 
and  moral  science  to  the  keen  observer  or  the  contemplative  philoso- 
pher, exhibits  the  author  as  a  mere  gossip  without  any  pretensions  to 
the  title  of  historian. 

London,  January  22d.  —  Not  altogether  so  dissatisfied  with  the 
labor  of  to-day,  though  I  might  have  done  my  duty  better  by  rising 
earlier.  My  walk  to  London  was  real  enjoyment,  from  the  beauty  of 
the  day ;  my  thoughts,  too,  were  not  idle,  for  I  went  through  several 
scenes  of  "  Othello."  Taking  into  consideration  the  employment  of 
my  time  in  the  study  of  that  character,  the  benefit  of  the  air  and  exer- 
cise, and  the  money  saved  in  my  walk,  I  cannot  set  down  the  three 
hours  and  a  half  it  cost  me  as  misused  or  laid  out  to  waste. 

I  acted  to-night  with  spirit  and  in  a  manly  tone,  better,  perhaps, 


256  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1833. 

than  ordinarily  in  the  part,  Rob  Roy.  A  curious  evidence  of  egotism, 
and  importunate  demand  of  attention  to  business  of  no  concern  to  me, 
was  afforded  me  to-night  in  Mr.  Heraud's  letter.  The  universe  is  but 
an  atom  before  the  vastness  of  one's  self! 

23d.  —  Although  I  cannot  boast  a  victory  over  my  lazy  habits  in 
the  morning,  the  day  has  not  been  an  idle  one :  indeed  too  active  in 
reference  to  its  principal  object  —  principal  as  respects  my  means  of 
life,  of  educating  and  providing  for  my  children  —  viz.,  my  per- 
formance, which  I  may  here  observe  was  "  weary,  stale,  flat,  and  un- 
profitable," a  lack  of  energy,  of  heartedness,  with  more  than  enough  of 
muscular  exertion,  and  all  attempts  at  effect  in  expression  overclouded 
by  the  perpetual  scowl  that  contracted  and  darkened  my  countenance : 
a  bad  performance.  Again  I  reproach  myself  with  exhibiting  that 
odiosam  et  inutilem  morositatem  against  which  I  am  so  anxious  to 
guard  myself:  in  the  instances  both  of  a  proposed  election  to  the  Gar- 
rick  Club,  and  of  the  performers'  incorrectness  in  "  William  Tell." 
Could  I  sober  or  improve  the  latter  ?  Whom  but  myself  could  I 
affect  by  such  moroseness  ?  Why  cannot  I  act  upon  my  "  own  gained 
knowledge  ?  "  In  the  other  case  both  person  and  thing  were  equally 
beneath  me :  why  should  not  a  person  like  Mr.  F.  belong  to  such  a 
society  ?  Why  cannot  I  hold  my  peace  and  stay  away  ?  Such  should 
be  my  course  ;  I  dread  the  effects  of  my  own  intolerant  and  impetuous 
temper.  God  be  my  friend,  for  I  am  too  often  an  enemy  to  myself! 

24th.  —  In  turning  over  the  leaves  of  Johnson's  Dryden,  I  find 
this  remark,  "  He  is  always  angry  at  some  past,  or  afraid  of  some 
future  censure."  Is  not  this  a  key  to  the  causes  of  my  own  dis- 
quietudes ?  And  should  I  not  add  to  my  happiness  if  I  would  think 
more  of  enjoying  or  employing,  for,  well  done,  it  is  synonymous,  the 
present  hour  without  reference  to  what  is  irremediable  or  apprehension 
of  what  is  uncertain  ?  I  have  done  one  act  of  duty,  I  hope,  to-day,  in 

sending  money  for  G 's  board  and  clothes  with  letters  to  him  and 

Dr.  Woodroff;  it  will  be  a  "brand  from  the  burning"  if  he  turns  out 
well.  W.  Birch  walked  out  with  me ;  I  was  much  struck  with  the 
scene  of  the  canal  and  the  skaters  in  the  Regent's  Park :  the  kind  of 
indian-ink  landscape  that  the  colorless  view  presented,  and  the  gayety 
extorted  from  the  vigor  of  winter,  amused  my  thoughts.  Rather  ex- 
ceeded in  my  lonely  dinner  and  wine,  as  much  from  the  ill  effects  of  the 
two  days'  previous  abstinence  as  from  anything  else  ;  this  kept  me  gaz- 
ing on  a  star  and  speculating  on  the  purposes  of  our  being  when  I 
should  have  been  better  at  rest. 

25th.  —  In  discussing  the  propriety  of  Mr. 's  admission  to  the 

Garrick  Club  this  morning,  I  so  far  improved  upon  my  late  violence 
of  language  as  to  refrain  from  any  exhibition  of  temper :  a  very 
negative  praise.  Quite  made  up  my  mind  to  leave  the  managers  to 
their  own  course  in  the  particular  of  their  pledge  to  me  on  the  alter- 
ation of  Othello  and  lago.  Why  did  I  feel  excited,  and  stung  into  a 
kind  of  nervous  alacrity  by  Kean's  inability  to  act  ?  Our  interest  in 
this  profession  came  too  frequently  into  collision  to  insure  without 


1 833.  DR  YDEN'S  "  CLEOMENES."  257 

•steady  vigilance,  that  magnanimity  which   makes  the  "peace  of  con- 
science. 

Elstree,  January  26th.  —  Rose  betimes,  and  set  out  fresh  from  my 
bath  with  elastic  spirits  and  happy  thankfulness  of  heart  to  walk  to 
Elstree.  Checked  in  -my  course  by  the  thaw  and  rain,  I  rode  about 
five  miles  of  the  road.  The  fresh  air  of  the  country  is  an  enjoyment 
to  me.  Employed  my  day  in  examining  Colonel  D'Aguilar's  transla- 
tion of  "  Fiesco,"  settling  my  accounts,  making  up  arrears  of  entries, 
etc.  Felt  the  happiness  of  my  home  in  seeing  the  health  and.  comfort 
of  my  family  around  me.  If  men  could  but  unlearn  the  lessons  of 
vanity  which  are  taught  by  dictation,  example,  and  the  influence  of  cur- 
rent events  to  their  youth,  how  truly  happy  could  they  make  themselves 
by  industry  and  charity.  '  But  to  be  certain  of  our  own  good,  we  cal- 
culate our  neighbors'  possessions  or  expenses  instead  of  inquiring  of 
our  own  wants,  and  are  only  contented  by  that  vain  and  envious  stand- 
ard of  comparison.  Is  not  health,  an  income  beyond  my  necessities,  a 
beloved  family,  a  quick  imagination,  considerable  acquirements,  and  the 
knowledge  of  the  value  of  these  blessings,  enough  to  enforce  content 
and  inspire  gratitude  ? 

29^A.  —  Am  compelled  to  blame  severely  in  myself  that  want  of  de-1 
cision  and  independent  resolution,  which  should  give  birth  to  action 
without  respect  to  the  occurrences  of  the  hour.  The  lamps  of  the 
wise  virgins  were  dressed  against  the  coming  of  their  Lord,  while  the 
fools  began  to  prepare  them  when  their  light  was  needed.  Read  over 
scenes  of  "  Othello,"  but  did  not  discharge  my  duty  by  it.  Arranged 
in  my  mind  the  alterations  to  be  suggested  in  Colonel  D'Aguilar's 
"  Fiesto." 

Although  often  opposed  to  the  critical  opinions  of  Scott,  I  have 
pleasure  in  noting  down  the  liberality  and  justice  of  his  observations 
on  Le  Sage  and,  in  nearly  an  equal  degree,  on  Fielding.  His  descrip- 
tion of  the  various  effects  produced  on  our  minds  by  different  portions 
of  the  novel  of  "  Gil  Bias  "  as  we  advance  from  childhood  through 
youth  to  manhood,  shows  him  to  be  a  close  observer  and  a  faithful  re- 
porter of  his  own  emotions.  Read  Dry  den's  "  Cleomenes,"  a  play  that 
has  all  the  marks  of  a  decaying  intellect  upon  it.  Images  are  forced 
most  ungracefully  upon  the  dialogue,  and  the  portfolio  of  the  author 
appears  to  have  rendered  up  its  last  stock  of  common-places  and  in- 
congruous similes.  The  frequency  of  coarse  and  vulgar  expressions 
(perhaps  meant  as  characteristic  of  Spartan  conversation)  excites  the 
surprise  of  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  usually  happy  selection 
of  his  words.  The  play  possesses  no  one  passage  worthy  of  him. 

30^.  —  Was  awake  at  a  very  early  hour  by  the  sickness  of  my  be- 
loved child.  With  what  anxious  fondness  one  watches  the  change  of 
every  shade  in  the  complexion  of  these  precious  gifts  of  Heaven  !  and 
how  every  day  adds  to  the  love  with  which  we  regard  them.  My 
hours  of  occupation  were  divided  between  a  letter  to  ColoneL  D'Agui- 
lar,  and  reading  some  critical  treatises  by  Dryden.  S.  and  G,  Bucknill 
arrived  to  dinner.  They  are  gentlemanly  and  natural  boys.  Feel  my 
17 


258  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1833. 

mind  fettered  by  the  state  of  suspense  in  which  it  is  held  in  regard  to 
Othello.  Must  give  my  attention  to  the  performance  of  it. 

31  st. —  Had  the  delight  of  seeing  my  darling  child  smiling  upon 
me  with  her  usual  health  and  spirits,  when  I  awoke  this  morning.  My 
heart  turns  in  gratitude  to  the  Giver  of  these  blessing  for  the  com- 
fort it  enjoys  in  their  continued  health.  To-day  I  had  experience  of 
the  truth  that  much  of  the  difficulty  of  every  task  lies  in  our  own  dis- 
inclination to  labor,  and  in  the  magnifying  effect  of  our  own  appre- 
hension. I  read  over  some  part  of  Othello  to-day,  which  loses  its 
awful  appearance  as  it  is  more  confidently  approached.  I  entered  some 
memoranda  from  Drydeu's  critical  and  dedicating  epistles  in  my  com- 
monplace book. 

February  1st.  —  "  Minute  change  in  principles  leads  to  mighty  change 
in  effects."  A  deduction  of  Harris  in  his  "  Hermes  "  bearing  analogy 
to  the  immense,  not  to  say  infinite,  distance  caused  between  two  lines 
by  the  slightest  divergence  from  their  parallel.  Employed  the  morn- 
ing left  to  me  by  Kean's  illness  in  reading  two  chapters  of  Harris's 
"  Hermes,"  and  some  pages  of  Dryden's  "  Critical  Essays."  Took  a 
walk  of  two  hours,  during  which  I  returned  the  call,  or  card,  of  Mrs. 
' .  From  the  slovenly  appearance  of  neglect  I  do  not  wish  to  im- 
prove the  acquaintance.  Continued  Dryden's  "  Essay  "  after  my  walk, 
which  amused  me  in  the  facts  it  affords  me  for  a  history  of  the  varia- 
tion of  critical  opinion.  From  Harris's  work  much  matter  for  thought 
is  to  be  obtained,  and  very  close  reasoning  to  be  followed  in  the  analysis 
of  universal  language. 

2d.  —  I  finished  Dryden's  "Defense  of  Dramatic  Poetry,"  which 
he  has  conducted  more  in  the  spirit  of  a  disciple  of  a  theory  than  as  an 
indifferent  lover  of  truth.  Took  some  exercise  on  the  water,  which 
was  too  rough  for  pleasure  when  out  of  practice.  Began  Gray's  works, 
in  which  I  have  particularly  noted  the  conceited  and  egotistical  de- 
livery of  commonplace  by  Mason.  Pleased  with  the  earnest  tone  of 
Algarotti's  letter  on  Gray's  odes,  though  not  more  influenced  by  his 
opinions  than  by  Dryden's. 

Sunday,  February  3d.  —  Brought  me  several  letters  on  business  ; 
the  answers  to  some  of  them,  attendance  at  church,  and  a  walk  round 
the  reservoir  occupied  all  of  my  morning  that  was  not  given  to  the 
newspapers  and  playing  with  my  children.  There  is  some  uncertainty 
on  the  arrangements  of  the  next  fortnight,  but  my  resolution  is  taken 
to  do  the  best  I  can  under  whatever  disposition  of  things,  and,  trust- 
ing in  Providence,  to  commit  results  to  its  will.  Finished  the  remain- 
ing answers  to  my  letters,  and  read  over  a  few  pages  of  Gibbon,  which, 
with  two  or  three  chapters  in  the  Greek  Testament,  has  made  up  my 
study  to-day. 

oth.  —  Was  on  the  point  of  getting  up  at  an  early  hour  this  morn- 
ing, but  lay  to  revolve  and  mention  the  outline  of  a  plan  which  had 
occurred  to  me  for  taking  the  Drury  Lane  Theater.  I  doubt  the  co- 
hesiveness  of  the  materials  which  it  would  be  necessary  to  combine  for 
the  purpose.  Enjoyed  a  most  delightful  walk  through  the  beautiful 


1833.  DRYDEN'S  "INDIAN  QUEEN."  259 

country  lying  between  this  place  and  Mill  Hill.  Saw  W there 

(while  S.  and  G-.  Bucknill  lunched  at  the  inn),  and  talked  over  his 
affairs  ;  found  him  as  resolute  in  choosing  his  mode  of  extrication,  al- 
though by  others'  means,  as  if  he  were  the  active  person.  Is  this  right  ? 
He  has  incurred  a  penalty  and  refuses  to  undergo  it.  Is  this  pride  or 
wisdom  ?  It  is  his  second  offense  against  prudence  attended  with  bur- 
dens of  self-reproach,  if  he  thinks  at  all.  I  think  him  wrong  in  incur- 
ring the  necessity  of  humiliation,  and  still  more  so  in  shrinking  from 
it.  Were  I  so  situated,  I  would  stoically  encounter  privation  and  the 
pain  of  wounded  pride  to  demonstrate  by  actions  of  lofty  principle. 

Qth.  —  Read  Harris's  "  Hermes,"  which  continues  to  please  and  in- 
struct me.  A  dedication  by  Dryden  to  the  Earl  of  Orrery  is  a  repeti- 
tion, almost  verbal,  of  his  defense  of  rhyme  in  dramatic  poetry  from 
his  essay  on  that  subject.  The  prologue  is  smooth  and  smart ;  but  the 
play  of  the  "  Rival  Ladies  "  is  not  worth  the  time  and  trouble  of  peru- 
sal. Byron's  letter  on  Pope  v.  Bowles  is  an  ample  vindication  of  the 
poet's  fame  from  an  aspersion  that  few  would  read,  and  none  who 
could  judge  would  yield  to.  He  makes  a  clear  case  of  what  was  mani- 
fest before. 

1th.  —  Had  the  pleasure  of  being  in  the  garden  before  breakfast  to 
overlook  my  servant's  labors.  After  some  short  letters  on  business,  I 
gave  my  attention  to  my  professional  studies,  in  which  the  greater  part 
of  the  morning  was  spent.  Employed  three  hours  of  a  beautiful  after- 
noon in  exercise  upon,  the  water,  where  I  more  particularly  enjoy  the 
freshness,  the  quiet,  and  beauty  of  the  country.  Read  Dryden's  trag- 
edy of  the  "  Indian  Queen,"  which,  besides  the  merit  of  versification, 
frequently  melodious  and  almost  always  easy,  has  nothing  to  recom- 
mend it.  The  language  is  as  uncharacteristic  as  the  persons  are  out  of 
nature,  or  as  the  plot  is  impossible  —  improbable  would  be  compli- 
mentary.  Fielding  has  parodied  some  parts  in  his  "  Tom  Thumb."  It 
is  a  play  of  rhyming  repartee  and  quixotic  sentiment  that  wearies  the 
reader  in  his  search  for  those  gems  of  thought  and  expression,  which 
are  sometimes  to  be  found  among  the  rubbish  which  Dryden  has  heaped 
together  so  hastily  and  inconsiderately. 

8th.  —  It  is  a  strange  weakness,  whether  imputable  to  some  physi- 
cal cause  or  to  an  insuperable  distrust  of  myself,  I  know  not,  that,  on 
arriving  in  town  to  play  a  part  often  done  before,  as  lago,  I  should 
feel  a  trepidation  and  sudden  sinking  of  heart  as  I  got  sight  of  the  bill 
announcing  my  performance.  But  it  is  so,  and  though  my  reason 
soon  subdues  the  emotion,  I  go  to  the  theater  with  as  much  restless- 
ness and  more  uncertainty  than  many  untried  and  less  favored  actors 
know.  To-night,  however,  it  did  not  affect  my  energy  or  skill ;  per- 
haps I  have  not  played  lago  with  more  entire  self-possession,  more 

spirit,  and  in  a  more  manly  unembarrassed  tone.  I  fear  poor  W 's 

fate  is  sealed !  He  is  far  beyond  my  reach,  even  if  I  had  not  stretched 
out  a  hand  to  him  before  ;  his  present  prospects  do  not  warrant  a  fur- 
ther subtraction  from  my  earnings.  His  want  of  forethought  and  cal- 
culation has  been  deplorable.  Franklin  says  "  if  you  want  to  know 


260  MACREADrS  DIARIES.  1833 

the  value  of  money  try  to  borrow  it,"  this  should  have  taught  poor 

W worldly  wisdom.  It  is  one  of  the  first  steps  towards  wisdom 

to  judge  of  others'  actions,  especially  as  they  affect  ourselves,  as  a  third 
person.  This  would  prevent  much  of  that  unjustifiable  spleen  and 
chafing  of  spirit  with  which  we  see  our  peculiar  interest  treated  by 
them  as  secondary  to' their  own. 

12th.  —  How  sensibly  I  feel  the  pleasures  and  comforts  of  my  home 
as  the  day  of  my  departure  from  it  approaches.  I  have  read  little  to- 
day. Made  an  effort  to  conform  in  my  opinion  to  Dryden's  on  the 
surpassing  excellence  of  Ben  Jonson's  comedy  of  the  "  Silent  Woman," 
but  was  wearied  in  the  second  act.  Bead  a  few  of  Wordsworth's 
"  Sonnets  on  the  Duddon,"  abounding  in  pictures  for  thought  to  dwell 
upon  and  moral  truths  that  tend  to  direct  or  confirm  the  mind.  Walked 
out  with  my  dear  Catherine  and  met  our  little  Christina  singing  lustily 
along  the  road.  Received  letters  in  the  evening,  the  answers  to  which 
engrossed  what  remained  of  the  day. 

London,  February  14lA.  —  A  very  busy  day  after  a  very  disturbed 
night.  My  spirits  became  depressed  after  taking  leave  and  losing  sight 
of  my  dear  wife  and  children,  but  the  active  employment  of  to-day  at 
chambers  and  abroad  has  dissipated  the  gloom  which  hung  upon  me. 
I  found  myself  announced  for  "  the  ensuing  week  "  in  the  bills.,  but  Mr. 
Bunn  said  it  "  meant  nothing."  My  divinings  were  just !  In  writing 
to  W I  have  adhered  to  my  resolution  of  advancing  nothing  with- 
out security.  I  am  right.  His  failings  are  not  misfortunes,  or  I  would 
distress  myself,  as  I  have  done,  to  relieve  him. 

Exeter,  February  l$th.  —  My  morning  was  cut  into  as  many  portions 
as  I  had  boxes,  bags,  notes,  messages,  and  hundreds  of  et  celeras.  I 
gave  too  much  to  the  porter  at  the  coach  :  this  is  a  very  silly  fault,  and 
a  wrong  to  any  poor  creature  that  may  need  one's  charity.  There  was 
nothing  remarkable  in  the  three  passengers  with  whom  I  started ;  the 
woman  was  very  vulgar,  which  was  not  her  fault ;  her  husband,  an 
outsider,  was  equally  so  and  rather  drunk,  but  redeemingly  civil.  I 
passed  Edwarde's  Place  (Kensington),  and  marked  the  house  where 
I  left  my  dearest  Catherine  nine  years  ago ;  never  shall  I  forget  my 
feelings  in  quitting  her.  I  looked  with  extreme  interest  too  at  the  inn 
at  Hounslow  where  we  breakfasted  and  changed  our  clothes  on  the 
morning  of  our  marriage.  Few  have  more  cause  to  bless  that  im- 
portant day  than  I. 

Sunday,  February  17 th.  —  I  read  Racine's  two  prefaces  to  his  "Bri- 
tannicus,"  one  of  which  is  a  repetition  of  the  substance  of  the  other, 
purged  of  the  pettish  smartnesses  which,  in  the  jealous  temper  and 
sometimes  in  the  very  expressions  of  Dryden,  he  shoots  out,  porcupine 
like,  around  him.  It  would  be  better  had  Racine  republished  his  crit- 
ic's exceptions  with  lu's  own  "  Britannicus,"  he  would  have  been  spared 
the  necessity  of  insinuating  that  they  were  dunces,  he  would  have 
proved  them  so.  It  is  a  beautiful  play.  I  also  read  his  prefaces  to 
"•Berenice,"  "Bajazet,"  and  "Mithridate."  I  could  see  little  of  the 
beautiful  country  through  which  I  passed  to-day  for  the  mist.  Arrived 
at  my  lodgings,  I  entered  immediately  on  business. 


1833.  TEMPTATIONS  OF  ACTORS.  261 

18th. —  G -called  as  I  was  on  the  point  of  going  out  to  seek 

him.  I  had  been  looking  at  the  ivy  leaves  playing  in  the  sunshine 
upon  the  city  wall  before  my  window,  and  thinking  how  easy  was  the 
lesson  of  content  with  health,  when  he  produced  himself  as  an  in- 
stance. He  showed  me  the  Institution,  and  we  walked  upon  the 
Castle  walls  together.  What  long  recollections  he  brings  to  me ;  he 
was  what  I  may  term  the  first  cordial  admirer  in  my  art  that  I  had ; 
and  he  has  been  as  unchanging  as  the  laurel  leaf.  I  acted  pretty  well 
this  evening,  but  in  the  dagger  scene  wanted  that  fresh  natural  manner 
so  real  and  impressive  on  an  audience.  Thank  God,  was  not  angry 
or  harsh. 

19^. —  G was  waiting  to  intercept  me,  as  I  came  down,  and 

carried  me  off  to  breakfast.  I  had  the  sense  to  ask  for  my  account 
to-day,  which  otherwise  would  have  been  a  maitre  d'hotel  I  suspect. 
What  a  silly  shyness  is  that  which  seems  to  shrink  from  being  thought 
prudent  and  careful !  The  essay  I  read  yesterday  on  the  drama  and 
its  professors  will,  I  hope,  sustain  me  in  my  desire  of  upholding  in 
myself  and  for  my  dear  children  a  respectable  as  well  as  honorable 
character.  But  an  actor  has  more  temptation  than  other  men.  I  can 
scarcely  enter  a  theater  without  seeing  beauty  that  too  often  cares  not 
to  conceal  a  flattering  approval  of  one's  talent,  and  that  would  not 
receive  with  avidity  a  reciprocal  homage.  What  other  condition  in 
life  brings  you  into  personal  contact  with  beauty  under  such  dangerous 
circumstances  ?  It  is  my  fortune,  not  my  merit,  God  knows,  to  have 
escaped  unscathed  in  reputation. 

20th.  —  Disturbed  in  my  bed  by  the  violence  of  the  storm  (which 
carried  away  slates,  chimneys,  and  blew  down  more  than  twenty  trees 
on  the  Castle  Hill)  I  thought  to  pass  my  day  within,  and  opened  my 
Virgil  at  the  Sybil's  prophetic  fury,  and  read  to  the  preparation  for 
Misenus's  obsequies.  Began  a  letter  of  advice  to  my  dear  wife,  which 

was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  G ,  who,  in  our  conversation, 

repeated  to  me  his  recommendation  of  preparing  materials  for  my 
Memoir.  It  is  worth  thinking  of.  From  the  scene  of  devastation 
made  by  the  storm  on  the  Castle  Hill,  we  returned  to  the  Institution, 
where  I  spent  some  time  in  looking  over  the  plates  of  Stuart's  "  An- 
tiquities of  Athens,"  with  which  I  was  much  disappointed.  On  the 
contrary,  the  accuracy  of  Gell's  "  Sketches  of  Pompeii "  gave  me 

much  pleasure.  After  a  short  walk  with  G —  to  the  river,  red  and 

swollen,  I  went  to  dinner. 

21st.  —  Read  the  first  part  of  a  paper  on  the  Druidical  religion  in 
Scotland  ;  was  not  previously  aware  that  the  "  rocking-stones  "  are  ar- 
tificially disposed,  and  that  they  are  Druidical  monuments.  Re- 
hearsed with  civility ;  had  occasion  to  observe  how  much  country 
practice  is  likely  to  induce  slovenly  habits  unless  caution  is  constantly 
used.  In  my  walk  with  G afterwards,  was  struck  with  the  com- 
manding position  of  the  Castle  Hill ;  remarked  the  mound  behind  the 
jail  to  be  either  Danish  or  British.  How  easy  it  is  to  be  happy  is  ob- 
vious from  G — — 's.  state  of  enjoyment ;  careless  of  any  doctrine  be- 


2G2  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1833. 

yond  that  of  duty  to  one's  neighbor,  he  revels  in  the  liberty  of  field 
and  sky,  indifferent  to  a  religion  and  thoughtless  on  an  hereafter.  I 
have  thought  on  our  conversation  of  last  night :  real  chastity  and  the 
charity  of  Christ  are  to  be  found  in  no  scheme  of  philosophy.  My 
performance  of  lago  to-night  was  an  example  of  what  I  wrote  this 
morning.  There  was  a  want  of  sustained  earnestness  and  spirit ;  there 
was  no  proper  direction  of  the  sight,  and,  in  consequence,  a  scowl  in- 
stead of  clear  expression,  besides  a  want  of  abstraction  in  the  solilo- 
quies. 

22d.  —  Yesterday  I  omitted  to  rebuke  myself  for  the  petulance  with 
which  I  rated  the  man  who  carries  my  clothes.  If  we  examine  our 
relations  with  mankind,  we  have  no  right  to  show  anger  to  any  man  ; 
it  is  the  right  only  of  the  tyrant  over  his  slave,  and  there  is  first  the 
right  of  tyranny  in  the  abstract  to  be  established.  To  be  angry  with 
any  one  is  to  assume  a  pretension  to  superiority  that  men  are  least 
disposed  to  allow.  Why  cannot  I  reflect  before  I  commit  myself  in 
word  or  action  ?  My  morning  has  been  passed  in  rehearsing,  after 

which  I  called  on  G .  I  was  amused  with  the  Othello  last  night 

speaking  the  word  "  veritable  "  with  the  French  accent  as  "  Most  ver- 
itarble."  I  feel  tired,  and  perhaps  have  no  real  cause  for  regret  at  the 
quantity  of  leisure  time  left  to  me  in  this  vacation.  Packing  and  a 
mind  in  an  unsettled  state  have  not  allowed  me  to  derive  much  benefit 
from  books  to-day.  Vanity  and  a  diseased  imagination,  the  evil  result 
of  a  neglected  youth,  are  the  sources  of  my  errors  and  my  follies.  My 
engagement  concluded  with  eclat  to  a  well  filled  house;  I  acted  well, 
and  am  grateful  for  what  I  have  gained.  Went  to  tea  and  say  adieu 
to  G after  the  play. 

Liverpool,  Angel  Inn,  February  27th.  —  More  attention  to  economy 
is  necessary ;  more  attention  to  my  professional  studies.  Read  the 
two  first  odes  of  Horace's  Book  of  Epodes.  One  speaking  the  very 
throbs  of  friendship's  heart,  the  other  presenting  picture  after  picture 
of  the  joys  and  charms  of  nature  and  a  rural  life  :  it  is  quite  beautiful. 
Gave  an  attentive  reading  to  the  "  Merchant  of  London." 

Dublin,  Sunday,  March  3d.  —  I  am  forty  years  of  age  !  Need  I 
add  one  word  to  the  solemn  reproof  conveyed  in  these,  when  I  reflect 
on  what  I  am  and  what  I  have  done  ?  What  has  my  life  been  ?  a 
betrayal  of  a  great  trust,  an  abuse  of  great  abilities !  This  morning, 
as  I  began  to  dress,  I  almost  started  when  it  occurred  to  me  that  it 
was  my  birthday. 

5th.  —  Finished  Schiller's  "Thirty  Years'  War,"  which  is  little 
more,  if  more,  than  an  extended  gazette.  It  has,  however,  made  me 
acquainted  with  the  actions,  and  in  some  instances  the  characters  of 
men,  whose  names  were  only  known  to  me  before.  Tilly,  Mansfeldt, 
Elector  Palatine,  Maximilian  Wallenstein,  Pappenheim,  Oxenstiern, 
Horn,  Banner,  Jorstensohn,  Weimar,  etc.,  etc.  Noted  two  emenda- 
tions in  rehearsing  Macbeth  this  morning.  Acted  Macbeth  with  spirit, 
earnestness,  and  self-possession:  carried  into  effect  the  corrections  I 
had  thought  of  in  the  morning.  Was  obliged  to  appear  before  the 


1833.  DUBLIN.  263 

audience  after  the  play.  To  what  end  is  thought  or  care,  when  next 
morning  we  read  notices  of  our  labors  by  the  ignorant  and  incompe- 
tent? 

6th.  —  Deliberated  for  some  time  on  a  very  polite  invitation  to  din- 
ner this  day  from  Sir  Hussey  Vivian  :  reflected  that  I  must  relinquish 
altogether,  or  imperfectly  complete  my  letter  of  advice  and  consolation 
to  my  beloved  wife  ;  and  also  distress  myself  in  the  accumulation  of 
business  that  must  result  from  this  indulgence  of  my  inclination  and 
curiosity.  The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man,  and  I  like  to  con- 
template him  under  his  various  phases.  But  I  concluded  against  the 
pressing  entreaties  of  Calcraft  to  remain  at  home.  I  neglected  my 
calls  to-day,  but  after  a  long  walk  wrote  to  my  Catherine  and  after- 
wards gave  a  reading  which  was  much  wanted  to  the  "  Merchant  of 
London."  I  was  right  in  remaining  to  attend  to  my  duties.  Per- 
ceive that  much  improvement  is  to  be  obtained  by  attention  at  re- 
hearsals ;  and  in  my  profession,  as  in  my  observation  of  Catherine's 
progress,  discern  the  meaning  and  admit  the  truth  of  the  metaphysi- 
cian, who  defines  genius  to  be  patience. 

Sth.  —  Passed  a  very  agreeable  evening  in  dining  at  the  Artillery 
Mess  with  Colonel  Michell.  Met  Colonel  Hustler,  Major  Gordon, 
whom  I  had  known  before  at  Twiss's,  Du  Plat,  Colonel  Webber  Smith, 
Horse  Artillery,  just  returned  from  the  siege  of  Antwerp,  who  gave 
an  amusing  account  of  the  gallantry  of  a  vivandiere  attached  to  the 
25th  Regiment.  Du  Plat  spoke  of  Fitzgerald,  long  since  dead,  and 
others  of  James,  now  on  duty  here.  Were  I  a  man  of  the  world,  how 
easy  to  enjoy  the  world  and  retirement  together ! 

Sth.  —  I  acted  not  equal  to  myself ;  I  fancied  the  audience  were 
restless  and  indisposed  to  listen,  which  made  me  nervous  and  hasty 
and  deprived  me  of  my  self-possession.  As  I  advanced,  I  improved, 
and  ended  with  effecting  a  tolerable  impression.  In  Puff  I  was  ear- 
nest and  animated :  the  farce  went  well.  My  chief  paragraph  was  a 
"  forth-coming  refutation  of  Malthus,  by  the  Due  de  Berri."  On  being 
drawn  out  after  the  play,  I  said :  "  It  is  a  very  poor  requital  of  the 
kind  approbation  which  I  have  always  received  in  this  city,  to  assure 
you  that  as  I  invariably  revisit  it  with  pleasure,  so  I  never  leave  it 
without  regret.  The  tragic  actor  addresses  himself  to  the  feelings  of 
his  auditors,  and  as  yours  are  never  slow  in  responding  to  the  tones 
of  truth  and  nature,  I  may  justly  be  proud  when  honored  with  your 
approval.  To  merit  it  will  be  my  earnest  wish,  and  with  a  faithful 
recollection  of  how  much  I  am  your  debtor,  I  respectfully  take  my 
leave."  Supped  with  Calcraft :  quite  worn  out. 

10th.  —  With  a  violent  effort  I  extracted  myself  from  my  bed,  and 
without  delay  proceeded  to  the  preparations  for  my  journey.  Again 
I  refused  the  petition  of  a  woman,  whom  I  had  before  relieved,  in 
consequence  of  the  vile,  hypocritical  cant  she  addressed  to  me,  asking 
me  "  If  I  was  a  parent ;  "  and,  in  another  note,  hoping  "  As  it  was  the 
Sabbath,  I  should  not  refuse."  Calcraft  paid,  but  reverted  to  the  sub- 
ject of  the  command.  I  was  resolute ;  for  I  felt,  had  I  offered,  he 


264  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1833. 

ought  not  to  have  received  an  abatement.  After  completing  my 
arrangements,  leaving  cards  for  Mrs.  Hemans  and  Mr.  Colles,  I  set 
off  in  a  carriage  with  Mr.  Calcraft  and  Miss  Huddart  to  Kingstown  ; 
as  we  passed,  the  horse  of  an  outside  car  ran  away,  and  rushed  against 
another  hack  car,  overturning  horse,  carriage,  and  passenger:  much 
fright,  but  fortunately  little  injury.  The  Bay  of  Dublin  was,  as  usual, 
beautiful ;  it  was  high  tide,  and  a  London  steamer  crossed  and  entered 
the  harbor  close  to  Howth.  The  mountains  and  the  sea  so  immedi- 
ately within  view  of  the  city  and  greatly  to  its  beauty  and  salubrity. 
We  dined  at  the  Koyal  Hotel.  How  disenchanting  in  the  female 
character  is  a  manifestation  of  relish  for  the  pleasures  of  the  table ! 
On  board  the  Thetis  I  took  leave  of  Calcraft,  and  was  indebted  to  the 
kindness  of  Captain  Townley  for  a  state  cabin,  which  I  found  most 
convenient.  We  had  northeast  and  east  winds  blowing  fresh  through 
the  night  with  hail  and  rain.  The  evening  was  clear  and  the  scene 
with  the  passing  vessels  interesting.  I  turned  in  early. 

Manchester,  March  \\th.  —  After  a  tossing,  wakeful  night,  the  only 
solace  to  which  was  the  thoughts  of  my  Catherine,  I  made  a  tolerably 
comfortable  toilette  and  breakfast,  and  enjoyed  the  prospect  of  a  calm 
sea  weltering  in  the  sunshine,  the  Welsh  line  of  coast  from  the  snow- 
clad  heights  of  Penmanmawr  to  the  opening  of  the  Clwyd,  the  peak  of 
Moel  Famma,  the  mouth  of  the  Dee,  and  the  Lancashire  shore  with 
the  beacons  on  it,  and  the  vessels  of  various  kinds  moving  within  our 
view.  We  entered  by  the  middle  channel.  I  found  Townley  to  be  a 
friend  of  Knowles.  We  landed  after  ten  o'clock,  and  with  some  trouble 
got  our  luggage  to  the  railway  station,  whence,  after  waiting  half  an 
hour,  we  rushed  along  to  Manchester.  At  my  lodgings  I  found  a  very 
loquacious  landlady,  who  oppressed  my  exhausted  spirits  with  the 
history  of  her  family.  I  tried  to  play,  but  effort  must  have  been  too 
perceptible  throughout  the  performance.  The  company  is  very  indif- 
ferent, "  two  of  the  eleven  "  in  a  state  of  intoxication. 

\'2th.  —  There  is  little  time  for  thought,  when  morning  and  evening 
are  consumed  in  the  theatre.  Nothing  particular  occurred  at  the  re- 
hearsal. In  the  afternoon  I  wrote  letters  of  business,  and  devised 
plans,  which  after-thought  induced  me  to  pause  upon.  I  did  think  of 
returning  home  next  week :  subsequent  reflection  shows  me  that  I 
may  both  save  and  earn  money  by  remaining  absent.  I  acted  "  the 
Stranger  "  tolerably  well,  but  was  too  much  in  appearance  on  the  stage ; 
not  direct  nor  careless  enough  in  action  and  carriage.  On  returning 
home  I  sat  down  to  read  over  Othello ;  the  idea  of  which,  even  here, 
gave  me  a  sensation  of  nervousness.  I  am  inclined  to  reproach  myself, 
for  my  precipitation  in  declining  the  reduced  terms  offered  me  at  Bath 
and  Newcastle.  Perhaps,  however,  I  was  not  wrong. 

13th.  —  Have  given  up  the  entire  day  to  the  rehearsal,  considera- 
tions, and  preparation  of ''  Othello."  The  lago  of  Cooper  was  a  very 
bad  performance,  neither  distinctness  of  outline,  nor  truth  of  color.  Of 
my  own  Othello  I  am  inclined  to  speak  in  qualified  terms.  There  was 
not  exactly  a  lack  of  spirit  in  the  early  scenes,  but  a  want  of  freshness 


1833.  MANCHESTER.  265 

and  freedom  in  its  flow  must  have  been  manifest.  I  was  nervous,  and 
under  that  oppression  effort  will  show  itself.  The  audience,  as  cold  as 
the  snow  that  was  falling  at  the  beginning,  waxed  warmer  and  warmer, 
and  actually  kindled  into  enthusiasm  at  the  burst  in  the  third  act, 
which  was  good,  but  the  part  still  requires  much  study.  The  address 
to  the  Senate,  the  arrival  at  Cyprus,  the  second  scene  of  the  fourth  act 
and  the  last  act,  demand  all  my  care  and  energy.  The  house  was  very 
thin,  and  I  am  yet  irresolute  as  to  my  further  course. 

14th.  —  I  lay  late  this  morning,  having  slept  little  in  the  night,  and 
feeling  much  fatigued.  Rehearsed  Pierre  ("  Venice  Preserved  ")  bet- 
ter than  I  expect  to  act  it.  I  perceive  how  very  much  of  the  effect 
of  acting  depends  on  earnestness  and  spirit.  Quite  overcome  by  drow- 
siness, the  effect  of  last  night's  wakefulness  or  this  day's  dinner,  which 
was  very  moderate,  I  slept  half  an  hour.  Acted  correctly,  but  rawly  ; 
to  do  justice  to  myself  in  Pierre,  I  ought  to  give  the  part  a  thorough 
revival  and  practice.  Was  made  very  happy  in  my  mind  by  a  letter 
from  my  dear  wife.  Wrote  to  her  chiefly  on  domestic  arrangements. 

loth.  —  At  rehearsal  this  morning  could  not  give  much  attention 
for  the  cold  that  depressed  me.  My  thoughts  are  sickly  as  well  as 
my  body.  Would  I  could  relieve  them  !  The  afternoon  of  a  dinner 
maigre  was  necessarily  given  to  a  perusal  of  "  Werner."  My  acting 
of  the  character  I  scarcely  ought  to  notice,  so  dependent  are  its  efforts 
on  the  other  parts,  that  their  inefficiency  or  incorrectness  neutralizes 
his  best  efforts.  I  quite  suffered  during  the  play.  My  mind  too,  in 
consequence  of  my  bodily  ailment,  is  not  under  my  control :  I  am  long- 
ing for  home,  yet  cannot  in  prudence  purchase  my  own  enjoyment  at 
such  a  sacrifice  of  money. 

16th. —  I  have  dispatched  a  large  sum  to  my  bankers  to-day,  for 
which  I  thank  God.  In  the  play  I  acted  lago  pretty  well,  but  was 
certainly  disconcerted,  if  not  annoyed,  by  the  share  of  applause  be- 
stowed on  Mr.  Cooper.  What  little  beings  does  selfishness  make  us  ! 
In  the  farce  I  was  mangled  by  the  shameful  idleness  of  the  actors. 

18th.  —  Before  I  rose,  read  odes  in  Horace.  That  beautiful  one  to 
Maecenas  on  the  happiness  of  competency  found  ready  assent,  and  in- 
fused much  delight  in  my  mind.  The  poetry  and  philosophy  are 
equally  charming.  Might  not  the  line,  "  converso  in  pretium  Deo," 
be  well  applied  to  the  churchmen  of  the  present  day  ?  Some  passages 
in  Milton,  which  I  read,  served  as  a  comment  on,  or  rather  a  confir- 
mation of  the  truth  and  wisdom  of  the  Roman  lyrist.  Opening  at  ran- 
dom Racine's  "  History  of  the  Port  Royal,"  I  found  some  shocking 
evidences  of  the  villainy  of  the  Jesuits,  both  as  individuals  and  as  an 
order.  What  a  scourge  has  that  precious  blessing,  religion,  been 
made  by  the  impious  and  blaspheming  sophistry  of  man !  Read  in 
last  week's  debate  the  Bishop  of  London's  vindication  of  the  wealth  of 
the  clergy  !  Appeared  before  a  wretched  assemblage  of  devoted  play- 
goers in  the  part  of  Virginius,  which  neither  my  health,  spirits,  nor 
interest,  could  encourage  me  to  act.  I  made  some  saving  hits  in  pas- 
sages ;  and  tried  experiments  through  it. 


MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1833. 

.  —  For  my  health's  sake,  took  a  walk  of  about  three  miles  up 
and  down  Oxford  Road.  Thought  on  many  things :  my  father's  in- 
considerable speculation  here  and  consequent  ruin  —  its  effect  on  my 
destiny ;  the  mystery  of  human  nature  ;  and  the  sweet  musings  on  my 
darling  children  on  seeing  a  little  girl  about  the  age  and  form  of  dear 
Nina,  came  like  delight  upon  my  spirit.  Read  many  pages  of  Racine's 
"  History  of  Port  Royal."  My  acting  in  Tell  to-night  was  bad, 
but  had  the  excuse  of  bad  health  and  audience.  I  wish  I  could  offer 
any  excuse  for  my  ill-temper. 

20th.  —  Acted  "Werner  with  unusual  force,  truth,  and  collectedness, 
finished  off  each  burst  of  passion,  and  in  consequence  entered  on  the 
following  emotion  with  clearness  and  earnestness.  The  house  was 
miserable. 

21st. —  I  have  done  nothing  else  to-day  beyond  rehearsing,  taking 
a  very  short  walk,  and  reading  part  of  Oakley  preparatory  to  my  per- 
formance of  it,  which  merits  little  commendation.  It  is  a  character, 
as  being  very  easy,  that  I  ought  to  play  well ;  and  merit  censure  for 
not  doing  it  better  than  well. 

22d.  —  Read  over  Wolsey  for  to-morrow  evening  and  looked  at 
my  accounts,  which,  thank  God,  are  more  satisfactory  than  they  have 
lately  been.  Read  over  again  my  Catherine's  last  letter,  and  let  my 
thoughts  loose  on  their  ramble  home.  Read  the  part  of  Scroope,  and 
acted  it  effectively,  but  not  with  the  truth,  reality,  and  taste  that  would 
satisfy  my  own  judgment.  Acted  the  scene  of  Joseph  Surface  mid- 
dlingly.  The  house  was  much  better  for  the  bill,  and  I  am  glad  to 
have  rendered  Miss  Huddart  such  a  service.  The  play  excited  so 
much  interest,  that  Mr.  Cooper  was  recommended  to  take  it  to-mor- 
row night,  but  he  preferred  playing  "  Henry  VIII.,"  which  I  do  not 
envy  him. 

25th.  —  Went  to  the  theater  to  see  "  Victorine,"  which  increased 
the  previous  depression  of  my  spirits.  How  very  painful  is  the  con- 
templation of  a  woman  who  has  yielded  up  her  virtue,  and  how  mis- 
erable does  the  reflection  on  the  brutal  character  of  vice  among  the 
low  thieves  of  a  metropolis  make  the  mind.  It  is  hopeless  depravity. 
What  are  we  here  for  ?  I  was  perhaps  additionally  moved  by  sitting 
in  the  box  I  used  when  a  boy,  before  my  prospects  changed,  seeing 
the  very  drop-scene  that  my  father  placed  there  twenty-five  years  ago. 
Much  of  the  past  came  back  upon  me. 

Carlisle,  March  29<A,  —  Woke  before  my  appointed  hour,  but  rose 
refreshed,  and  with  a  sensation  of  relief  in  quitting  Manchester.  My 
journey  offered  me  little  to  remark  upon :  the  sort  of  early  loiterers  in 
a  manufacturing  town  made  their  wonted  appearance  about  the  coach, 
to  make  one  question  again  the  general  influence  of  civilization. 
Lancaster  Castle  from  its  site,  its  present  appropriation,  and  as  having 
been  the  place  of  my  poor  father's  confinement,  arrested  my  attention, 
as  did  Garstang  Castle,  from  not  having  before  noticed  it,  and  Kendal 
Castle  from  its  beautiful  situation.  A  very  heavy  snow-storm  on 
Shap  Fells  made  that  wild  country  more  desolate  and  dreary  than 


1833.  RACINE'S  "PORT  ROYAL."  267 

usual ;  I  love  the  heath  and  the  free  breeze  of  the  hills.  Passed  by 
the  theater  at  Carlisle,  which  my  father  built,  in.  seeking  my  letters : 
thought  of  many  days,  acts,  and  feelings  forever  gone. 

Edinburgh,  March  30th.  —  A  striking  instance  of  the  dangerous  effects 
of  precipitation  showed  itself  to-day.  A  month  ago,  I  could  not  reason 

down  the  annoyance  of  wounded  pride  arising  from  B— 's  refusal 

to  be  my  boy's  godfather :  this  morning  I  took  up  his  letter  to  answer 
it,  and  it  seems  to  me  most  proper  and  affectionate.  Pride  and  pas- 
sion !  where  would  ye  have  left  me  ?  Thank  God,  I  have  replied  to 
it  as  I  ought.  My  day  has  been  an  idle  one.  I  have  read  some  pages 
of  Tasso,  the  combats  between  Ottone,  Argante,  and  Tancredi ;  some 
part  of  Terence's  "  Heautontimorumenos,"  the  excellent  scene  of 
Chremes  rebuking  Clitipho  and  Syrus  sending  him  away  ;  two  essays 
of  Bacon  on  "  Custom  "  and  "  Nature  ; "  and  Shakespeare's  exquisite 
scenes  between  Angelo  and  Isabel.  I  walked  upon  the  Calton  Hill, 
after  posting  my  letters. 

I  read  Racine's  letters  to  some  over  zealous  Jansenists,  and  his  dis- 
course on  the  admission  of  the  younger  Corneille,  the  Abbe  Colbert, 
and  Berquet  to  the  Academy.  Finished  yesterday  his  history  of  the 
"  Monastery  of  Port  Royal,"  so  amusing  from  the  credulity,  simplicity, 
and  earnestness  of  the  writer ;  the  insight  into  the  Roman  Catholic 
religion  through  its  various  forms ;  its  effect  in  confining  the  powers 
of  the  mind  exemplified  in  Racine's  servile  adulation,  or  rather  idola- 
try of  Louis  ;  the  anatomical  view  it  affords  of  the  means,  principles, 
and  purposes  of  the  Jesuits  ;  and  also  for  the  various  individual  char- 
acters, both  interesting  and  entertaining  that  it  makes  to  pass  before 
us.  In  his  two  letters  against  the  Jansenist  defenders  of  Port  Royal, 
it  is  not  clearly  seen  whether  his  temporary  hostility  was  aroused  by 
their  censure  of  dramatic  poetry  or  acted  on  in  deference  to  the  impla- 
cability of  Louis ;  his  praises  of  that  bad  man  are  almost  disgusting. 

Particularly  noted  the  superior  effect,  as  well  as  the  diminution  of 
labor  in  the  marked  discrimination,  with  which  I  acted  Virginius  this 
evening,  though  unprepared,  and  at  first  careless  of  my  performance. 
This  resulted  from  thinking  on  the  too  artificial  style  of  the  young 
gentleman  who.  played  Othello  last  night,  and  contrasting  his  and 
Kean's  methods,  though  they  are  patches  from  one  piece,  with  my 
own.  I  see  how  much  of  my  conception  I  lose  by  precipitancy :  it 
does  not  extract  one  spark  of  fire  the  less,  but  tempers  energy  so  "  as 
to  give  it  smoothness."  I  hope  I  may  now  exclaim,  evprjKa. !  To  no- 
tice one  among  many  instances  of  natural  and  powerful  effect,  I  may 
record  the  embracing  and  rebuking  Virginia  and  committing  her  to 
Icilius  just  before  hurrying  away  to  the  field,  which  I  never  did  so 
well. 

April  3d. —  Wrote  to  dearest  Catherine.  'Received  letter  from 
her ;  and  one  from  Mr.  Farren  asking  me  to  play  Puff  for  his  benefit ! 
Acted  well.  I  perceive  by  my  observation  of  last  night,  that  the  great 
defect  of  my  style  is  hurry  and  want  of  clear  discrimination  —  I  mean 
discrimination,  not  in  one's  own  mind,  but  made  palpable  to  and  im- 
pressed on  an  audience.  Let  me  not  lose  sight  of  this ! 


MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1833 

4th.  —  Called  on  Allan,  and  saw  his  Orphan  on  the  easel,  his 
sketches  of  the  rooms,  etc.,  at  Abbottsford,  and  the  study  of  his  pict- 
ure of  Rizzio's  Murder.  He  is  a  very  interesting  man ;  he  promises 
to  come  and  see  me  on  his  arrival  in  London.  Called  on  Mrs.  Spence 
and  chatted.  Received  two  petitions,  but  I  unlearn  my  own  precepts 
of  generosity  here.  Answered  Mr.  Farren's  letter,  declining  to  act 
Puff.  Played  "  The  Stranger"  pretty  well,  but  had  particular  evidence 
of  the  comparatively  phlegmatic  temper  of  this  audience  in  the  ap- 
plause to  the  burst  in  act  fourth.  Supped  with  Mr.  Pritchard  and 
met  a  party,  with  whom  I  was  amused. 

London,  jElstrec,  April  Sth.  —  Had  the  comfort  of  reaching  my  cham- 
bers, stiff  and  wearied  :  disappointed  in  not  finding  Catherine  and  my 
baby  there ;  dressed  myself,  and  set  out  to  catch  the  Crown  Prince 
coach,  which  I  missed,  and  came  to  the  parting  of  the  roads  by  an  Hemel 
Hempstead  one.  Walked  with  a  quiet  light  step  towards  Elstree,  and 
reached  my  dear  home  about  half-past  ten.  What  can  I  record  be- 
yond this  ?  As  Fraucesca  says  :  "  Quel  giorno  piii  non  vi  leggemmo 
avanti  ?  "  I  found  my  darling  boy  much  better  than  I  could  have  ex- 
pected, my  dearest  Nina  in  full  health,  and  all  well !  I  looked  round 
the  house,  and  about  the  ground,  satisfying  myself  with  reviewing 
what  was  pleasing  for  not  being  new.  I  only  looked  over  my  ac- 
counts, talking  in  idle  gossip  the  rest  of  this  happy  day  away.  I  can 
only  thank  God,  as  I  humbly  and  fervently  do  for  so  dear  and  precious 
a  gift  as  the  home  with  which  He  has  blest  me,  and  for  the  feeling  to 
appreciate  and  enjoy  it 

10th.  —  Immediately  on  coming  down,  which  I  did  at  a  late  hour, 
I  lunched  and  set  off  in  the  carriage  to  town  with  Catherine  and  my 
boy.  Called  at  the  theater.  Endeavored  at  my  chambers  to  prepare 
myself  for  night,  but  found  a  difficulty  in  settling  and  concentrating 
my  thoughts.  Endeavored  to  act  Macbeth  well,  but  found  myself 
strange  to  the  stage,  the  size  of  the  theater,  and  the  effect  of  my  own 
voice.  My  earnestness  must  have  been  a  redeeming  quality  in  my 
acting,  as  the  applause  was  frequent ;  as  I  advanced,  1  think  I  im- 
proved, and  my  death  was  very  warmly  applauded.  I  was  called  for 
at  the  fall  of  the  curtain,  and  obliged  to  go  forward.  I  returned  to 
chambers,  where  Catherine  was  waiting  to  accompany  me  in  the  car- 
riage to  Elstree  with  dear  Willie,  who  was  much  better. 

IGth. — Very  unwell  indeed:  did  not  leave  my  room.  Time  utterly 
lost  to  me,  mind  and  body.  And  this  night  Covent  Garden  Theater 
was  closed  in  consequence  of  the  number  of  performers  unable  to 
attend  their  duty  from  illness,  a  circumstance  without  precedent  in  my 
recollection.  Read,  although  with  some  difficulty,  and  not  with  my 
mind  in  a  sufficiently  clear  state  to  apprehend  quicklv,  the  review  of 
Hare's  translation  of  Niebuhr's  "  History  of  Rome."  Much  interested 
in  it.  He  offers  petulant  authors  a  lesson  in  the  silence  he  preserved 
to  every  attack  made  to  his  theories. 

nth.  —  Received  news  of  Drury  Lane  Theater  being  closed  until 
Saturday  next  in  consequence  of  the  many  absentees  from  indisposition 


1833.  ILLNESS.  269 

among  the  performers.  I  could  not  help  occasionally  feeling  this  ill- 
ness, the  anxiety  of  my  wife  and  sister,  the  care  to  preserve  quiet,  and 
all  the  efforts  to  soothe  the  pain  and  allay  the  irritation  of  a  sick-bed, 
as  a  rehearsal  of  the  eventful  scene  that  must  one  day  be  acted  when 
I  must  feel,  in  addition  to  my  bodily  sufferings,  that  I  must  leave  the 
dear  friends  of  my  heart  —  the  blessed  children  of  my  love. 

19th. —  The  Haymarket  Theater  is  closed  until  Wednesday  next 
on  account  of  the  illness  of  the  performers. 

21  st.  —  To-day,  thank  God,  I  tasted  the  pure  air  again  !  I  humbly 
offer  up  my  thanks  to  Almighty  God  for  his  numberless  mercies  and 
bounties,  and  am  particularly  called  upon  now  to  acknowledge  grate- 
fully my  restoration  from  the  severe  sickness  with  which  I  have  been 
afflicted.  I  feel  that  my  system  has  been  overworked,  and  brought 
.into  a  most  excitable  state  of  predisposition  to  illness.  I  quite  enjoyed 
the  free  inspiration  of  the  atmosphere  and  the  warm  sunshine.  The 
flowers  and  trees  had  unusual  interest  for  me.  I  read  the  newspapers, 
in  which  I  find  much  to  employ  reflection,  but  little  to  improve  my 
estimation  of  mankind.  The  prominent  facts  in  the  world's  history 
that  delight  a  thinking  man  are  very  few  indeed. 

23d,  Shakespeare's  Birthday.  —  On  this  day  I  was  to  have  met  the 
Garrick  Club  at  dinner  in  honor  of  Shakespeare's  birthday,  and  in- 
tended to  have  felt  their  dispositions  towards  erecting  some  memorial 
to  Mrs.  Siddons  ;  instead  of  which  I  am  walking  with  the  help  of  a 
stick  through  my  garden  and  field,  endeavoring  to  regain  the  health 
and  strength  of  which  I  feel  the  want  so  much.  The  day  is  very 
pleasant,  and  the  garden  looks  very  cheerful  to  me.  I  walked  to  tire 
myself,  and  then  came  in  to  write  some  letters.  Have  been  obliged  to 
put  off  to  next  year  the  new  graveling  our  walks,  for  which  I  am  not 
sorry. 

24th.- —  Obliged  to  return  to  my  bed,  after  an  ineffectual  effort  to 
dress  myself.  Very  weak  and  unwell,  and  in 'great  apprehension  of  a 
more  serious  turn  to  my  disorder:  my  pulse  at  fifty -eight,  and  my 
nervous  system  in  a  state  of  painful  irritation.  Could  neither  address 
myself  to  write,  read,  or  talk,  nor  suffer  any  one  to  read  to  me.  Felt 
better  towards  night,  but  very  far  from  comfortable.  Turned  over  the 
leaves  of  Crebillon's  plays,  and  of  Corneille's :  became  acquainted 
with  the  fact  of  Foote  having  taken  his  "  Liar  "  from  that  poet's  "  Le 
Menteur : "  looked  also  through  the  pages  of  "  Le  Festin  de  Pierre," 
by  Corneille,  which  seems  to  me  the  best  of  any  of  the  pieces  dram- 
atized on  the  story  of  "  Don  Juan ! "  Turned  over  some  leaves  of 
Voltaire. 

25th.  —  Saw  by  newspapers  that  Mr.  Bunn  is  made  lessee  of  Drury 
Lane  Theater,  but  I  must  "  abide  the  change  of  time."  Looked  at  a 
small  volume  entitled  "  An  account  of  Caspar  Hauser,  a  youth  kept  in 
a  dungeon  till  seventeen  years  old  !  "  I  disbelieved  the  whole  story  — 
at  least,  it  is  not  like  truth. 

Sunday,  April  28th.  —  Answered  .several  notes  and  then  walked 
round  the  garden  with  my  wife  and  little  girl  and  sister.  This  is  an  en- 


270  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1833. 

joyment  to  me.  I  thank  God  for  the  general  appearance  of  improving 
health  through  my  whole  family.  Read  some  letters  of  Junius,  with 
the  bold  sharp  style  of  which  I  am  amused.  Read  prayers  with  my 
family  at  night  for  the  first  time  these  many  weeks.  I  thank  God  for 
the  power  to  do  so. 

Sunday,  May  5th.  —  Knowles  sent  me  his  play  of  "  The  Wife,  a 
Tale  of  Mantua."  The  weather  is  really  delicious ;  it  is  a  luxury  to 
breathe  the  air,  to  inhale  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers,  and  listen  to  the 
music  of  the  birds,  watching  the  graceful  motion  of  the  gently  waving 
boughs.  As  a  contrast  I  read  the  newspaper  :  the  parliamentary  de- 
bates, the  actions  and  speeches  of  Lord  Althorp,  Hobhouse,  Peel, 
Spring  Rice,  etc.  Went  to  morning  service. 

London,  May  6th.  —  I  came  to  town  with  my  family,  principally 
that  Mr.  Earle  might  see  Catherine  and  Nina.  My  morning  was  oc- 
cupied in  executing  commissions  for  home,  until  I  parted  from  my 
darlings  to  see  Mr.  Bunn  at  the  theater.  My  conversation  with  him 
was  not  satisfactory ;  my  benefit  will  probably  be  sacrificed,  and  I 
cannot  see  my  way  into  next  season.  My  conversations  with  Cooper 
and  Reynolds  on  the  subject  of  Covent  Garden  being  managed  by 
myself,  leave  me  still  in  doubt.  I  remained  in  town  to  see  the  Ger- 
man opera  of  "  Fidelio,"  which,  though  short,  is  to  an  English  auditor 
rather  heavy.  The  general  acting  also  disappointed  me  ;  it  was  opera- 
acting,  the  same  unnatural  gesticulation  and  redundant  holding  up  of 
arms  and  beating  of  breasts.  Madame  Schroeder  Devrient  is  a 
splendid  exception  to  the  commonplace  of  the  rest :  it  was  as  tender, 
animated,  passionate,  and  enthusiastic  as  acting  in  an  opera  could  be  ; 
she  quite  abandoned  herself  to  her  feelings  —  she  was  admirable. 
Next  to  her  came  the  chorus. 

7th.  —  Went  to  Drury  Lane  to  see  Malibran  —  what  an  artiste  ! 
Whether  it  be  that  excellence  gains  an  advantage  in  competition  by 
producing  the  last  effect,  and  thereby  leaving  its  impression  strongest, 
I  do  not  know  ;  but  perhaps  it  is  to  this  cause  I  should  attribute  the 
superiority,  as  it  seemed,  of  Malibran  to-night  over  what  appeared  to 
me  perfection  in  Schroeder  yesterday.  It  perplexes  me  to  decide 
between  these  two  gifted  creatures.  Schroeder  Devrient  absolutely 
thrilled  me,  made  me  start,  and,  some  time  after,  the  agitation  into 
which  she  threw  me  had  not  subsided.  Malibran  delighted  me ;  I 
think  I  may  say  there  was  greater  variety  of  excellence  in  her  per- 
formance, and  I  fancy,  though  loth  to  let  it  escape  me  lest  it  should 
not  be  strictly  just,  that  there  is  rather  more  finish  in  Malibran. 

8th.  —  Harley  called  by  appointment  to  talk  over  the  state  of  the 
profession.  Cooper  came  to  excuse  himself,  on  account  of  a  new  farce, 
from  his  P^lstree  engagement.  We  had  much  conversation  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  theater ;  the  opinion  seemed  to  be  that  it  would  be  much 
better  for  the  profession  that  Covent  Garden  should  be  opened  by 
others  than  by  the  Drury  Lane  manager ;  it  was  agreed  to  wait  the 
event  of  Mr.  Bunn's  negotiation. 

Elstree,  May  24th.  —  I  was  in  earnest  beginning  business,  after  my 


1833.  KEAN'S  FUNERAL.  271 

walk  round  the  garden  and  playing  with  my  children,  when  Sir  John 
Marshall  arrived  to  interrupt  me.  We  came  to  a  perfect  understand- 
ing on  the  subject  of  the  lease  —  went  over  the  premises  and  to  the 
reservoir  ;  he  lunched,  gave  us  a  very  warm  invitation  from  Lady  M. 
and  self.  Related  anecdotes  of  Thurtell's 1  brother,  and  the  early  oc- 
cupants of  Mr.  King's  house.  Fate  of  the  daughters,  etc.  Left  us 
about  three  o'clock  ;  Birch  and  self  went  down  to  the  water  and  rowed 
till  nearly  five,  when  Messrs.  Dow  an*l  Sperice  arrived  and  came  to  us. 
In  conversing  with  them  after  dinner,  I  allowed  myself  most  impru- 
dently to  criticise  the  knowledge  and  impartiality  of  the  public  press. 
Why  cannot  I  be  silent  on  what,  if  my  opinions  are  promulgated,  I 
only  aggravate  ?  This  impotent  display  of  contempt  or  anger  is  most 
unwise.  Never  betray  hostility  until  you  have  the  power  to  crush, 
and  then  use  it  only  to  prove  a  better  nature  than  that  of  your  paltry 
antagonist. 

25th.  —  Came  early  to  town ;  got  my  clothes  from  Wilkins,  and 
found  a  note  from  Miss  Ellen  Tree  expressing  her  regret  at  not  being 
allowed  to  act  for  me.  Saw  Bunn  at  the  theater,  where  I  took  places 
for  Lady  Marshall.  Packed  up  my  trunk  and  wrote  to  Sir  J.  M. 
with  orders.  On  my  way  to  Richmond  with  Harley,  Birch,  and 
Spence,  met  Jones,  who  promised  to  do  M.  Perez  for  my  night. 
Passed  several  pedestrian  mourners  on  the  road  and  some  carriages. 
Among  them  Mr.  Ducrow's.  Rushed  into  the  room  where  Kean's 
remains  lay,  poor  creature !  Lee  hoped  that  Mr.  Harley  approved 
what  he  had  done.  In  the  drawing-room  shook  hands  with  young 
Kean,  Stanfield,  Knowles,  Clint.  Introduced  to  Mr.  Forster.  After 
some  delay,  furnishing  mourners,  etc.,  we  were  summoned ;  Braham 
and  self,  first,  as  supporters ;  we  crossed  the  Green  and  paced  the 
crowding  streets  amid  the  loud  remarks  and  repetition  of  names  by 
the  multitude.  Kean's  coffin  placed  before  our  pew  led  me  into  very 
sad  ruminations :  contrasting  his  moments  of  burning  energy  with 
the  mass  of  cold  corruption  fronting  me.  The  church  was  crowded 
by  curious  and  gay  visitors,  and  was  distressingly  hot ;  his  son  and 
Mr.  Lee  were  much  affected ;  the  anthem  was  beautiful  but  long. 
The  procession  re  turned  "to  the  house  in  its  original  order;  I  could 
make  little  observation  on  anything  around  me,  being  under  such  a 
surveillance.  Braham  invited  me  to  dine  with  him  at  the  Star  and 
Garter,  but  I  was  obliged  to  decline.  I  shook  hands  very  warmly 
with  young  Kean,  who  thanked  me ;  and,  with  Harley,  went  in 
search  of  the  carriage,  which  met  us  on  the  Green  and  very  rapidly 
took  us  to  town. 

Birmingham,  May  26th.  —  I  kissed  my  darling  babes  in  the  nur- 
sery and,  taking  leave  of  Letitia,  also  my  wife,  I  went  to  the  Plough 
to  wait  for  the  Crown  Prince  coach.  My  traveling  companions,  on 
getting  into  the  coach,  did  not  offer  me  the  prospect  of  a  very  pleas- 
ant day ;  but  the  perusal  of  the  translation  of  Goethe's  "  Faust " 

1  Elstree  was  the  scene  of  the  murder  of  Mr.  Weare  by  Thurtell  and  others  in 
1823.  — ED. 


272  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1833. 

employed  and  amused  my  miud  the  greater  part  of  the  journey.  A 
literal  translation  must  leave  much  of  the  spirit  behind,  and  in  fol- 
lowing, as  I  suppose,  many  of  the  inversions  of  the  original,  adds  to 
its  obscurity.  In  the  simple  passage  of  Margaret's  description  of  her 
little  sister's  life  and  death  in  the  last  scene,  her  wish  to  liave  her 
own  infant  in  her  grave  beside  her,  for  "no  other  creature  would  be 
near  her,"  I  was  much  affected.  On  approaching  Birmingham  I  saw 
the  terrible  affiches  of  Mr.  Ducrow  which,  with  other  ill-boding  cir- 
cumstances, prepared  me  for  a  bad  week.  On  arriving  I  inquired 
for  my  old  admiring  friend,  and  could  not  at  first  catch  the  low  mut- 
tering tones,  in  which  the  servant  told  me  she  was  dead !  I  was 
quite  shocked.  I  had  known  her  since  I  could  remember  anything. 
Death  has  been  very  busy  this  year.  Mr.  Cooper  called  and  sat  a 
short  time. 

27th.  —  I  attended  rehearsal,  and  the  whole  fate  of  the  engagement 
was  visible  to  me :  a  wretched  company,  and  a  mere  wandering  man- 
ager who  ventures  because  he  has  nothing  to  lose.  It  is  quite  unfor- 
tunate that  I  came  ;  but  it  must  be  endured,  and  it  is  always  wise  to 
make  the  best  even  of  the  worst.  "Wrote  to  Bunn  and  Palmer,  for 
I  am  in  a  terrible  dilemma,  my  trunks  not  having  arrived  ;  in  conse- 
quence of  which  we  must  change  the  play  from  "  Macbeth  "  to-mor- 
row. I  acted  in  parts  pretty  well,  and  seemed  to  carry  the  audi- 
ence —  they  were  not  a  heavy  load  to  bear  in  any  way  —  with  the 
interest  of  the  play.  The  house  was  very  bad,  but  I  have  no  right 
to  complain  of  Birmingham.  I  noted  several  things  in  my  acting, 
which  will  lead  to  the  correction,  I  think,  of  a  faulty  principle. 

28th.  —  I  acted  Hamlet  although  with  much  to  censure,  yet  with 
a  spirit  and  feeling  of  words  and  situations  that  I  think  I  have  never 
done  before.  The  first  act  was  the  best,  still,  at  the  exit  of  the  Ghost 
in  both  scenes  and  afterwards,  polish  and  self-possession  is  requisite. 
In  the  second  act,  almost  general  revision.  Third  act,  the  soliloquy 
wants  a  more  entire  abandonment  to  thought,  more  abstraction.  Ophe- 
lia's scene  wants  finish,  as  does  the  advice  to  the  players.  The  play 
scene  was  very  good,  and  most  of  the  closet  scene,  but  in  parts  my 
voice  is  apt  to  rise,  and  I  become  rather  too  vehement ;  latter  part 
wants  smoothness.  End  of  the  play  was  good.  Energy !  Energy  ! 
Energy ! 

31st.  —  A  letter  from  Bunn,  in  which  he  now  mentions  his  uncer- 
tainty of  getting  Taglioni  for  my  benefit,  which  before  he  taught  me 
to  rely  on  as  sure  !  Wrote  to  him,  but  corrected  my  letter,  and  sent 
one  solely  on  business.  Went  to  rehearsal ;  made  a  trifling  present  to 
the  little  boy  who,  in  Albert  last  night,  so  disconcerted  and  enraged 
me.  I  deserved  a  severer  penalty.  Walked  with  Mr.  Cooper,  discours- 
ing on  the  chances  of  next  season. 

London,  June  4th.  —  At  five  o'clock,  left  Birmingham  in  the  Red 
Rover,  with  a  guard  dressed  for  the  part  in  a  red  coat  and  red  hat. 
Much  of  the  way  I  slept,  and  was  averse  to  produce  my  book  of 
"Rule  a  Wife,"  on  account  of  the  fellow-passenger  of  my  journey. 


1833.  BENEFIT—  TAGL10NI.  273 

On  arriving  I  found,  by  a  note  from  Bunn  that  Vestris  declined 
Estifania,  and  I  had  a  play  to  seek.  After  a  few  moments'  talk,  the 
"  School  for  Scandal "  was  decided  on,  myself  as  Charles.  Some  time 
elapsed  before  I  had  read  the  part,  and  saw  my  unfitness  for  it ;  and  I 
then  had  my  name  taken  down  and  retained  my  former  part  of  Joseph. 
This  is  not  such  a  bill  as  the  Tragedian  of  the  Theater  should  put 
out,  and  I  feel  it  a  sort  of  suicide  —  but  look  at  the  company,  look  at 
the  time,  and  then,  what  is  to  be  decided  on  for  Monday  ? 

Elstree,  June  8th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  saw  Mr.  Bunn,  heard  of 
Mrs.  Orger's  good-natured  acquiescence,  and  of  the  misunderstanding 
that  had  existed  on  Taglioni's  engagement,  M.  Laporte  never  having 
arranged  with  her  for  my  night.  Returned  to  Elstree,  looked  into 
Jefferson,  whose  character  improves  upon  me  with  my  increased  knowl- 
edge of  it.  It  is  very  pleasant  to  see  in  one's  own  mind  prejudices 
dissolve  before  the  approach  of  truth.  I  look  on  Jefferson,  instead  of 
an  ambitious  and  factitious  demagogue,  as  a  clear-sighted,  single-hearted 
philanthropist  and  legislator :  my  opinion  once  was  far  different.  He 
had  his  failings  and  the  prejudices  of  climate  and  education,  but  he 
was  an  uncommon  man. 

London,  June  10th. —  Our  hay  began  to  be  cut  under  the  hottest 
sun  of  the  season ;  and  I  left  it  with  Catherine  and  Letitia  to  attend 
my  benefit 1  in  town.  Found  several  affairs  connected  with  it  demand- 
ing my  attention.  Arranged  what  was  necessary  for  the  night  both 
at  chambers  and  at  the  theater.  Mr.  Dow  called.  The  Duchess  of 
St.  Alban's  sent  two  guineas  for  two  tickets,  which  I  did  not  think 
worth  while  otherwise  to  notice  than  by  sending  the  messenger  to  the 
box  office.  The  day  was  overpoweringly  hot.  I  had  some  fuss  about 
my  dress,  hat,  etc.  Acted  as  well  as  I  could.  Miss  Philips  looked  all 
that  the  author  could  have  imagined  of  the  beauty  and  modesty  of 
Maria.  What  is  Taglioui?  A  realization  of  some  young  poet's  dream, 
whose  amorous  fancy  offered  to  his  slumbers  beside  some  stream  or 
fountain  the  nymph  whose  divine  being  consecrated  the  natural  beauty 
of  the  scene.  She  presents  to  me  an  idea  of  the  soul  of  the  Peri 
tenanting  a  woman's  form.  She  looks  wholly  la  Bayadere,  and  her 
graceful  pensiveness  is  only  equaled  by  Flaxman's  Pandora. 

llth.  —  My  indisposition,  a  feeling  of  inability  to  rise  this  morning, 
was  at  least  equal  to  my  reluctance  to  go  to  bed.  The  wind  was  high, 
even  to  tempest,  occasionally  ;  the  hay  cut  yesterday  looked  very  well ; 
but  the  rain  has  come  to  place  all  our  hopes  in  jeopardy.  "Walked  in 
the  fields  and  garden.  Is  not  this  better  than  to  have  been  one  of  the 
rout,  whose  carriages  and  servants  filled  Portland  Place  last  night  ? 

12th.  —  Knowles  called,  asking  me  to  join  the  Covent  Garden  per- 
formers in  petition  for  a  third  theater.  I  see  that  my  present  position 
demands  from  me  vigilance,  constant  attention,  and  indefatigable  in- 
dustry. Untiring  energy  is  the  material  I  ought  to  bring  into  play.  1 

1  The  play  was,  "  The  School  for  Scandal,"  followed  by  "  The  Maid  of  Cash- 
mere : "  Taglioni,  Malibran,  Madame  Schroeder  Devrient,  and  Madame  Vestris 
appeared  for  Macready's  benefit.  —  ED. 
18 


274  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1833. 

will.  Pasta  and  Talma  are  both  evidences  of  what  patient  application 
can  do. 

17th.  —  My  performance  of  Woolsey  was,  on  the  whole,  the  best  I 
had  ever  given  of  the  part :  there  is  care,  and  concentration  of  feeling 
and  energy  upon  some  of  the  striking  points  particularly  needed ;  but 
in  the  general  portraiture  there  was  more  freedom,  a  more  natural  and 
yet  more  earnest  delivery,  a  less  stern  and  ascetic  demeanor  and  ap- 
pearance than  I  ever  before  gave  to  it ;  above  all  I  was  in  possession 
of  myself,  and  paused  with  meaning,  and  therefore  with  confidence. 
The  applause  was  great  at  my  entrance  and  final  exit.  I  gave  my 
usual  gratuities  to  the  servants.  Talfourd  came  to  my  room,  highly 
pleased  with  the  performance,  and  after  going  to  the  Temple,  returned 
to  sup  with  me. 

2$th.  —  My  first  visit  to-day  was  to  the  British  Gallery,  where  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  looking  at  some  of  the  masterpieces  of  Sir 
Joshua,  his  own  portrait  in  spectacles  (equal  to  many  in  my  opinion) 
the  marvelous  expression  of  the  Ugolino,  Dido,  Iphigenia,  Infant 
Samuel,  Fortune-Teller,  Dr.  Johnson,  Rodney,  Keppel,  Dyer,  Nelly 
O'Brian,  Lord  Lifford,  and  several  other  pictures,  gave  me  great 
pleasure.  My  judgment  would  point  out  few  of  Lawrence's  besides 
the  heads  of  young  Napoleon  and  himself,  Lady  Blessington,  and 
Kemble.  West,  I  cannot  like.  To  great  painters  he  stands  among 
the  mediocre ;  "  Mentor  and  Telemachus  "  pleased  me  as  much  as  any 
of  his  pictures. 

29<A.  —  At  the  Exhibition  this  morning.  Much  to  please  me. 
Wilkie's  Confessional,  Collin's  Stray  Kitten,  Landseer's  Jack  in  Of- 
fice, Mulready's  First  Voyage,  all  good.  Etty,  Callcott,  Turner,  and 
others  have  beautiful  specimens  of  the  high  state  of  English  art 
Pleased  with  the  Water  Color  Exhibition,  the  most  equal  collection 
among  the  London  galleries.  Suffolk  Street  shows  great  improvement, 
and  gives  promise  of  much  more.  The  panorama  of  Antwerp  interested 
me  as  the  representation  of  a  siege ;  but  Niagara  is  a  failure.  There 
is  no  distance,  vastness,  effect  of  color  —  nothing.  I  almost  felt  in- 
dignant at  the  artist's  presumption.  It  confirms  my  opinion  of  the 
impossibility  to  paint  or  describe  this  sublimest  phenomenon  of  nat- 
ure. 

July  Zd.  —  I  read  Coleridge's  "  Christabel,"  which,  though  rich  in 
the  dress  of  poetical  language,  and  stirring  the  heart  with  the  thrill  of 
expectation,  yet  leaves  little  impression  on  the  mind. 

7th.  —  In  the  newspaper  was  much  struck  with  the  grand  appropri- 
ation of  Lord  Grey's  expression  of  "  standing  by  his  order,"  which 
Mr.  Brotherton  made  in  the  debate  on  the  Factory  Bill,  declaring 
himself  to  have  been  employed  in  the  factories  till  sixteen,  pitying  the 
children,  and  resolving  to  "  stand  by  his  order." 

Elstree,  July  l'2th. —  After  looking  at  the  workmen  about  the  house 
and  in  the  field,  resumed  my  study  of  Lear,  the  difficulty  of  which  does 
not  yet  diminish  before  my  attempts  ;  studied  in  practice  parts  of 
Hamlet  and  Anthony  in  the  drawing-room.  I  ought  to  have  began 


1833.  PAGANINI.  275 

this  as  the  season  closed,  while  my  mind  was  active ;  in  thinking  upon 
different  characters,  from  disuse  and  relaxation,  labor  becomes  harder 
and  the  faculties  duller.  To  stop  is  to  lose  ground :  most  men  in 
this  world  have  to  pull  against  a  stream ;  at  some  period  of  their 
lives,  all.  I  must  work  hard.  In  an  interval  of  study  I  was  play- 
ing with  my  little  Willie,  and  the  sight  of  him  gave  a  spur  to  my 
work. 

13th.  —  Finished  the  corrections  of  the  "  Bridal,"  and  trust  it  with 
my  hopes  to  its  destiny.  Studied  Lear,  and  practiced  on  Hamlet  and 
Othello  for  three  hours,  after  which  walked  down  with  dear  Catherine 
to  the  water  and  took  exercise  for  two  hours,  whilst  she  read  Cow- 
per's  "  Garden  "  to  me.  I  do  not  think  the  scientific  part  of  the  sub- 
ject, or  indeed  any  science,  adapted  for  poetry :  accuracy  ties  down  the 
wings  of  imagination.  His  moral  strain  is  beautifully  sweet ;  and  1,he 
indignant  chastisement  he  inflicts  on  hypocrisy  and  false  taste  as  se- 
vere as  it  is  just. 

London,  July  17th.  —  "Went  to  Drury  Lane  to  see  Paganini.  His 
power  over  his  instrument  is  surprising ;  the  tones  he  draws  from  it 
might  be  thought  those  of  the  sweetest  flageolet  and  hautboy,  and 
sometimes  of  the  human  voice ;  the  expression  he  gives  to  a  common 
air  is  quite  charming.  His  playing  "  Patrick's  Day  "  was  the  sweetest 
piece  of  instrumental  music  I  ever  heard  ;  but  he  is  a  quack. 

JZlstree,  July  2±th. —  Finished  the  perusal  of  "  Sardanapalus,"  which, 
for  the  fourth  time,  I  think,  I  have  examined  on  its  capabilities  for 
undergoing  adaptation.  It  might  have  been  ah  acting  play,  but  it  is 
too  monotonous,  passionless,  and  devoid  of  action,  I  fear,  to  satisfy  an 
English  audience.  My  whole  evening  has  been  spent  in  revolving  the 
possibility  of  turning  it  to  a  representable  form,  and  of  considering  the 
effect  of  his  other  plays.  I  reluctantly  conclude  upon  abandoning  the 
hope  of  them.  We  purchased  a  new  cow  to-day,  a  very  interesting 
event  in  our  farm-yard. 

"25th.  —  After  walking  about  the  premises,  I  turned  over  the  leaves 
of  Massinger's  Plays  in  the  faint  hope  of  finding  some  convertible  ma- 
terial, "  but  I  find  none,  sir."  Must  make  more  use  of  my  time,  as  my 
classical  reading  is  fading  from  me. 

27th.  —  Looked  over  my  memoranda  in  hopes  of  finding  material 
for  a  paper  in  the  "  Keepsake."  See  nothing  that  will  answer  the  pur- 
pose, and  must  abandon  it,  as  it  is  a  distraction  to  my  thoughts  which 
should  be  intently  fixed  on  more  important  affairs. 

28^.  —  I  have  begun  more  seriously  this  month  to  apply  to  the  study 
of  my  profession,  impelled  by  the  necessity  which  the  present  state  of 
the  drama  creates.  I  do  not  feel  that  I  have  the  talent  to  recall  atten- 
tion to  an  art  from  which  amusement  cannot  be  drawn  but  by  an  ex- 
ertion of  the  intellect.  The  age  is  too  indolent  in  part,  and  in  part  too 
highly  cultivated.  But  while  I  see  the  desperate  condition  to  which, 
at  this  late  period  of  my  life,  my  profession  is  reduced,  I  am  not  thereby 
inclined  to  let  my  spirits  sink  under  the  disheartening  prospect.  To 
do  my  best  is  still  my  duty  to  myself  and  to  my  children,  and  I  will  do 


276  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1833. 

it.  I  will  contend  while  there  is  ground  to  stand  on,  even  with  neglect, 
the  bitterest  antagonist ;  and  I  will  try  to  merit  honors  if  I  cannot  ob- 
tain them.  I  have  resumed  my  classics,  to  keep  myself  prepared  for 
the  education  of  my  boy. 

29M.  —  Dined  with  Talfourd,  where  Catherine  and  Letty  met  me. 
We  spent  a  very  cheerful  day.  In  the  evening  Leigh  Hunt  came  in, 
whom  I  was  curious  to  see  and  gratified  in  meeting.  Our  conversation 
was  chiefly  theatrical :  we  seemed  to  part  mutually  good  friends.  I  re- 
turned with  Catherine  and  Letty  in  the  carriage  to  Elstree. 

30th.  —  Was  fortunate  enough  to  rise  in  good  time  this  morning,  and 
after  my  customary  walk  in  the  garden,  and  reading  the  "  Examiner," 
in  which  are  some  good  extracts  on  female  education,  I  sat  down  to 
Herodotus,  and  then  turned  my  voluntary  studies  to  Homer,  on  my 
darling  boy's  account,  and  ended  with  beginning  "  Cicero  de  Oratore." 
In  these  pursuits,  and  in  the  pleasures  of  the  country  I  think  I  could 
satisfy  my  desire  of  happiness.  Practiced  and  read  professionally  for 
two  hours  and  a  half,  Lear  and  Hamlet ;  in  these  labors  I  must  not 
relax,  but  I  am  obliged  to  goad  myself  to  the  task. 

August  3d.  —  Read  a  little  Homer,  and  pursued  my  study  of  Cicero, 
who  tells  us  how  very  rare  in  his  day  were  even  tolerable  actors  ;  it 
seems  that  the  scarcity  has  been  of  all  time. 

10th.  —  After  dinner  I  took  up  the  life  of  Newton  (who  attributes 
his  triumph  to  "  industry  and  patience  "),  but  fell  asleep,  as  I  believe, 
from  the  effects  of  my  dinner.  I  seem  to  eat  moderately,  and  drink 
the  weakest  wine  and  water,  and  yet  I  suffer  thus  from  my  stomach.  I 
believe  I  must  at  last  weigh  my  food.  Looked  at  "  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra "  for  arrangement. 

llth.  —  Began  Thucydides. 

12th.  —  After  tea,  went  over  the  words  of  Lear,  Catherine  holding 
the  book,  whereby  I  discovered  how  much  I  have  yet  to  think  of  in  the 
part,  and  how  much  to  practice  of  that  already  thought  upon,  to  arrive 
at  any  moderate  degree  of  confidence :  remained  thinking  on  the  part 
afterwards.  Must  give  more  attention  still,  and,  with  it  all,  I  fear  I 
never  can  produce  a  finished  performance. 

London,  August  15th.  —  Arranged  my  stage  clothes,  and  packed  up 
what  was  ready  for  my  tour.  Saw  J.  Palmer,  and  gave  orders  for 
beard  and  Lear's  dress.  Dined  with  Jerdan  and  Captain  Williams, 
whom  I  invited  on  Wednesday  next  to  Elstree.  Went  with  them  to 
the  Victoria  Theater  —  a  very  pretty  salle,  and  well  appointed.  At 
the  Victoria  Theater  I  saw  Mr.  Keeley  and  Miss  Garrick.  Why  did 
I  not  speak  to  them  ?  It  was  not  pride,  but  a  false  shame  which  is  al- 
ways taken  for  it  and  does  the  exhibitor  equal  injury. 

Elstree,  August  17th.  —  Made  my  first  essay  in  archery  this  year 
with  Catherine  and  Lydia ;  l  lunched  in  the  field  where  the  laborers 
were  carrying  the  hay ;  the  day  was  very  charming.  Mrs.  Chalk 
called.  After  walking  down  to  the  reservoir,  I  turned  into  the  little 
field,  when  Tip  gave  chase  to  a  gentleman's  dog  and  drove  it  into  the 

1  Miss  Lydia  Bucknill,  now  Mrs.  Lardcn.  —  ED. 


1833  LEAR.  277 

village,  for  which  I  flogged  him  severely.  Letitia  returned.  I  read  a 
little  of  Lear ;  but  am  obliged  to  set  the  mark  of  reprehension  on  my 
loss  of  this  valuable  day.  Let  me  hope  better  of  the  future. 

\§th.  —  After  my  customary  walk,  I  applied  myself  to  a  continua- 
tion of  my  work  on  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra."  I  subsequently  took 
up  Lear  into  the  drawing-room,  and  read  and  practiced  a  little,  but  I 
begin  to  lose  the  hope,  by  which  I  held,  when  the  event  was  at  a 
greater  distance.  There  is,  however,  one  course  to  pursue,  which  may 
preserve  my  peace  of  mind  when  fortune  has  shook  her  wings  over 
me,  which  is,  to  do  my  best  and  most.  I  did  not  make  much  progress 
to-day. 

London  to  Bristol,  August  24:th.  —  Left  London  in  the  Emerald 
coach  with  a  very  affected,  stupid  woman,  picked  up  at  Kensington, 
and  two  more  variously  steeped  in  affectation,  but  equally  dull,  were 
taken  up  on  the  road.  One  made  violent  advances  to  me,  which  I 
received  with  complacent  indifference.  Slept  most  of  the  way.  Vainly 
sought  amusement  from  my  fellow-passengers,  and  thought  over  part 
of  Lear.  My  mind  seldom  permits  a  journey  to  seem  tedious  to  me. 
Either  recollection  or  association  from  history  or  fable,  besides  the 
dreamy  fancies  of  my  own  discursive  thoughts,  give  interest  to  familiar 
and  even  commonplace  scenery.  We  had  a  little  rain  at  Melksham 
Spa.  First  heard  of  water  being  made  combustible  by  solution  of 
resinous  matter.  Query,  is  it  so  ?  The  canal  at  Devizes  has  twenty- 
nine  locks  in  a  mile  and  a  half.  It  is  nearly  twenty  years  since,  with 
a  heart  palpitating  between  hope  and  fear,  I  first  entered  Bath.  What 
changes  since!  What  revolutions  in  the  world  around  me,  and  the 
world  within  me  !  Is  life  worth  possessing  ?  I,  who  have  so  many 
blessings  in  it,  cannot  decide  the  question  at  once.  On  reaching  Bris- 
tol was  most  civilly  received  by  Mr.  Niblett.  .  Head  newspapers,  and 
went  to  bed. 

26th.  —  Could  not  help  wishing  for  the  quiet  of  a  country  life,  as  I 
passed  a  very  neat  villa  here,  that  I  might  dedicate  my  remaining 
years  to  the  culture  of  my  own  mind,  and  the  careful  education  of  my 
children. 

Swansea,  August  27th.  —  I  went  to  my  first  rehearsal  of  "  Lear," 
with  which  I  was  much  dissatisfied.  I  am  not  yet  at  ease  in  the  char- 
acter ;  I  have  much  labor  yet  to  bestow  upon  it  before  I  can  hope  to 
make  it  such  a  representation  as  I  am  ambitious  of.  Spent  five  hours 
in  rehearsing,  and  left  the  theater  jaded  and  worn  out.  Lay  down 
after  dinner  and  with  pain  in  my  limbs,  and  "between  sleep  and 
wake  "  made  myself  perfect  in  the  last  scene  of  "  Lear."  A  poor 
player  called  Dunn,  whom  I  remember  in  a  dirty  old  coat  as  D. 
Dashall  at  Wexford,  calling  rouleaux,  "  roorloors,"  sent  in  a  petition  to 
me  to  buy  some  fishing-flies  from  him.  Acted  particularly  well  Will- 
iam Tell  with  collectedness,  energy,  and  truth  :  the  audience  felt  it ; 
I  spoke  in  my  own  manly  voice,  and  took  time  to  discriminate.  I  was 
much  pleased. 

23th.  —  Endeavored  to  make  the  most  of  the  day  by  beginning  to 


278  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1333. 

pack  up  my  clothes  before  rehearsal  of  "  Lear  ;  "  I  found  myself  very 
deficient,  undecided,  uncollected  —  in  short,  unprepared  for  the  at- 
tempt. After  retirement,  took  a  walk  of  two  miles  more  to  return 
Mr.  Thomas,  the  portreeve's,  call ;  the  way  along  the  hills  above 
Swansea  afforded  beautiful  views  of  the  bay.  Acted  Lear.  How  ? 
I  scarcely  know.  Certainly  not  well,  not  so  well  as  I  rehearsed  it ; 
crude  fictitious  voice,  no  point  —  in  short,  a  failure  !  To  succeed  in 
it,  I  must  strain  every  nerve  of  thought,  or  triumph  is  hopeless. 
Woulds  called  and  paid  me  ;  not  a  very  profitable  engagement,  but  I 
am  seldom  discontented.  Letter  from  dearest  Catherine  ;  thank  God, 
she  is  better.  Packed  up  the  remainder  of  my  things.  Paid  servants 
of  the  theater. 

Gloucester,  August  30th.  —  As  I  walked  along  the  street  to  the 
coach  office  this  morning  a  little  before  four,  I  perceived  clearly  my 
want  of  directness,  reality,  and  truth  in  Lear.  Will  not  give  it  up. 
My  failure  last  night,  like  Peter's  overthrow  at  Narva,  may  be  a  step 
to  final  success.  My  coach  passengers  were  not  interesting,  and  I 
slept  to  Cardiff.  I  was  recognized  there  and  accosted,  on  getting  into 
the  coach,  by  Mr.  Bird,  who  told  me  of  the  preparations  for  the  Eisted- 
fodd  next  year.  I  saw  Mr.  Parry  there,  on  an  Eistedfodd  mission. 
Read  Voltaire's  "  Nanine,"  with  which  I  was  much  pleased  ;  the  action 
is  well  carried  on  and  the  sentiments  are  simply  and  strikingly  ex- 
pressed. Thought  a  little  on  Lear.  Began  Voltaire's  "  Oreste,"  of 
which  I  read  something  more  than  an  act.  A  French  woman  in  the 
coach  (whose  husband,  an  Englishman,  breakfasted  on  cold  veal,  with 
a  sauce  of  white  sugar,  oil,  vinegar  and  mustard),  obliged  me  to  go  to 
sleep  to  escape  conversation  with  her.  At  Chepstow,  where  it  began 
to  rain,  we  had  a  mother  and  daughter  in  exchange  for  the  French 
and  English  from  Swansea.  The  other  old  woman  talked  of  the  florid 
Gothic  style  of  architecture  preceding  the  Roman,  and  was  a  savante 
in  her  own  opinion.  On  reaching  Gloucester,  I  altered  my  route  to 
Birmingham  and  Leeds,  avoided  error,  and  booked  my  trunk  for  Lon- 
don. 

To  Birmingham,  Leeds,  and  Knaresborough,  September  1st. — 
Began  my  day  early  in  the  Leeds  mail,  after  a  very  comfortable  night 
(only  disturbed  by  two  fancied  gun-shots,  dreaming  I  was  at  home,  a 
sort  of  nightmare),  and  applied  myself  to  the  consideration  of  Lear,  to 
which  I  gave  much  of  my  thought  during  the  day.  The  waiter's  wife 
and  child  were  insides  to  Sutton,  and  to  them,  as  to  a  poor  woman 
with  a  child,  I  showed  what  civility  I  could.  An  odd  person  was  in 
the  breakfast  room  at  Derby,  so  officious  in  his  civilities  that  I  ascribed 
them  to  his  love  of  chattering,  and  as  a  means  of  indulging  it.  I  saw 
very  distinctly  Reptou  Church,  where  my  dear  mother  was  christened, 
and  at  Sheffield  I  passed  the  church  that  contains  all  that  remains  of 
her  on  earth.  I  hope  to  visit  Repton,  for  every  trace  of  her  is  inter- 
esting to  me.  Read  the  "  Orphelin  de  la  Chine  "  of  Voltaire,  and  was 
much  pleased  with  a  great  deal  of  it. 

Harrogate,  September  2d. —  Walked  to  Harrogate,  thinking  of  Lear, 


1833.  EUGENE  ARAM.  279 

and  saw  Benn  at  the  Granby ;  he  gave  me  no  assistance  in  furthering 
my  wish  to  dispose  of  the  property,  but  promised  his  rent.  Went 
along  the  beautiful  wood  on  the  river's  side  to  the  Dropping  "Well, 
which  is  both  beautiful  and  curious  ;  bought  some  specimens  of  petri- 
faction ;  continued  my  walk  along  the  opposite  bank  (and  the  walk  is 
so  varied  and  pleasing  it  needs  no  object  beyond  itself)  to  the  cave 
where  Eugene  Aram  and  Houseman  deposited  the  bones  of  Dan 
Clarke.  It  had  been  an  hermitage,  but  nearly  choked  up  with  earth. 
It  is  now  cleared  away,  and  exhibits  in  its  regular  floors  and  steps  its 
original  purpose.  Called  on  Mr.  Powell,  absent,  and  enjoyed  the 
lovely  and  extensive  view  through  the  dingle  and  over  the  distant 
country  from  the  Castle  grounds  ;  called  again  on  Mr.  Powell  (again 
was  gratified  with  the  splendid  view  from  the  Castle),  and  deputed  him 
to  advertise  and  try  to  find  a  purchaser  for  the  Granby.  Mr.  Gill 
called,  and  I  gave  him  my  name  to  oppose  the  public-house  license 
opposite  the  Granby.  Read  the  newspaper  and  "Eugene  Aram." 
Have  been  more  interested  this  evening  with  the  very  ingenious  and 
staggering  defense  of  Eugene  Aram,  than  by  all  the  external  beauty 
of  the  woods  and  waters,  the  overhanging  cliffs  and  distant  hills,  the 
bright  green  slopes  and  shadowy  outlines  that  have  held  me  in  rapt- 
urous gaze  this  morning.  I  am  even  now  almost  inclined  to  doubt 
his  guilt ;  my  difficulty  is- in  reconciling  the  cold-blooded  meanness  of 
the  transaction  with  his  clearly  discriminating  perception  of  right  and 
wrong,  his  habits,  his  wants,  and  his  pursuits.  I  would  rather  have 
hung  Houseman  and  Terry.  But  perhaps  this,  like  many  anomalies 
in  the  physical  world,  is  placed  before  us  to  teach  us  the  impotency  of 
our  own  reasoning.  God  and  His  works  are  inscrutable. 

Elstree,  September  4th.  —  Rose  at  a  very  early  hour  from  a  good 
night's  rest  to  begin  my  day's  journey  onward  to  Elstree.  The  com- 
panions of  my  route  were  not  remarkable,  and  my  own  thoughts,  with 
my  book,  were  agreeable  and  useful  resources  to  me.  I  was  amused 
at  Warwick  with  the  preparations  for  the  races,  and  the  persons 
crowding  to  it.  At  Leamington  saw  Captain  Kater  and  his  son, 
whom  I  persuaded  to  go  to  Warwick  Castle,  which  he  had  not  yet 
seen  or  intended  to  see.  At  intervals  of  sleep  or  conversation  read 
various  essays  of  Bacon  ;  they  made  me  think,  and,  as  they  always  do, 
gratified  me  extremely.  That  on  "  Envy "  led  me  to  question  and 
condemn  myself  for  the  occasional  "discontentment"  in  which  I  some- 
times indulge,  which  I  can  find  no  reason  to  call  by  any  other  name, 
than  envy.  It  is  as  unjust  to  my  condition  in  life,  as  it  is  mean  and 
debasing  in  itself.  I  never  suffer  it  to  have  a  place  in  my  mind  when 
perceived ;  and  I  pray  to  God  I  may  be  able  to  eradicate  it.  Reached 
home,  and  had  the  comfort  of  finding  my  family  well,  for  which  I 
truly  thank  God.  Listened  to  all  the  news,  and  noted  down  my 
accounts. 

Brighton,  September  9th.  —  After  a  little  writing  went  to  rehearsal, 
where  I  received  my  luggage  and  settled  the  business  of  the  week. 
Discovered  that  I  had  been  announced  by  mistake  for  the  previous 


280  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1833. 

Monday,  and  that  the  play  of  "  Macbeth  "  had  been  acted  with  an 
apology  for  a  substitute,  owing  to  an  error  of  Mr.  Vining.  Rehearsed 
tolerably  well,  and  afterwards  took  a  warm  bath.  Received  an  invi- 
tation to  Worthing  from  Mr.  Stanley,  the  manager,  which  I  answered 
doubtfully.  After  dinner,  I  lay  down  from  fatigue,  and  endeavored, 
ineffectually,  to  recover  my  spirits,  while  Catherine,  Nina,  and  Wal- 
lace went  out  to  drive  about  the  cliff.  Acted  Macbeth  to  a  very  fair 
house,  but  indifferently ;  there  was  a  want  of  self-possession  in  the 
performance  that  caused  an  exuberance  of  physical  effort  which  never 
can  have  a  proper  effect  when  perceptible  to  an  audience.  There  was 
precipitation  and  stress  throughout  which  often  cost  me  the  applause  I 
ought  to  have  gained :  my  best  attempt  was  the  "  To-morrow  and  to- 
morrow." Was  very  much  fatigued,  and  went  beaten  to  bed. 

10th.  —  Acted  Werner  for  the  most  part  very  well ;  although  the 
characters  were  imperfect  and  ill-acted,  the  play  was  received  with 
interest  and  enthusiasm.  I  was  master  of  myself,  and  felt  what  I  was 
doing,  and  how  to  do  it.  Mr.  Stanley  came  from  Worthing,  and  set- 
tled an  engagement  with  me  for  Saturday  next.  He  brought  me  a 
very  kind  message  from  Dr.  Wooll,  inviting  me  to  his  house.  Came 
home  in  a  fly,  and  thought  much  up'on  Sir  R.  Dudley's  objection  to 
my  acting,  that,  "  I  was  too  lavish  of  physical  efforts."  He  was 
right. 

1 2th.  —  At  rehearsal  I  again  took  the  same  precaution  as  yesterday, 
and  hoped  to  have  given  a  fresh  and  earnest  representation  of  Ham- 
let this  evening.  Returning  from  the  theater,  I  called  at  the  agency 
office  to  show  all  the  sense  I  could  of  the  attention  I  received  there. 
On  the  parade  met  Listen,  looking  pretty  well,  but  older  and  much 
graver  —  the  flexibility  of  that  humorous  visage  seems  to  stiffen 
under  the  chill  of  age.  Wrote  a  letter  of  acknowledgment  to  Dr. 
Wooll.  Lay  down,  while  Catherine,  etc.,  took  their  daily  drive. 
Procured  her  a  private  box  at  the  theater ;  was  anxious  to  play  well, 
but  felt  myself  ineffective,  and  was  told  by  her  of  my  hurry  and  want 
of  deliberate  method.  In  comparing  my  performances  with  my  re- 
hearsals, when  I  frequently  speak  and  act  with  an  abandonment  and 
a  reality  that  surprises  me,  I  feel  the  great  advantage  which  Kean, 
Miss  O'Neill,  and  Mrs.  Siddons  enjoyed,  in  passing  their  earliest 
years  upon  the  stage,  and  thereby  obtaining  a  power  of  identification 
only  to  be  so  acquired. 

Worthing,  September  1 4fh.  —  After  settling  all  my  accounts,  and 
waiting  some  time  for  Wallace,  we  set  off  for  Worthing.  Most  jour- 
neys are  interesting  to  me,  if  merely  from  the  change  of  object ;  on 
this  road  there  is  the  western  end  of  Brighton,  the  church  of  Shore- 
ham,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  suspension  bridge,  and  "  the  sea,  the  sea  " 
to  keep  attention  awake.  The  last  time  I  traveled  on  this  road,  my 
feelings  and  my  situation  were  as  wretched  as  man's  could  well  be. 
How  grateful  ought  I  not  to  be  for  the  blessed  contrast  which  this 
day  affords  !  We  reached  a  very  pleasant  hotel  at  Worthing  on  the 
beach,  and  from  rehearsal,  which  offered  me  a  doubtful  prospect,  I 


1833.  A  NEW  ENGAGEMENT.  281 

called  on  Dr.  Wooll  —  poor  Dr.  "VYooll !  "  Heu  !  quantum  mutatus." 
I  dressed  as  well  as  I  could  without  dresser,  and  acted  as  well  as  I 
could,  earnestly  wishing  to  please  nay  poor  old  master.  Much  I  did 
well ;  in  the  betrothment  of  Virginia  the  thought  of  my  own  beloved 
wife  and  child  flashed  across  me,  and  I  spoke  from  my  soul  —  the 
tears  came  from  my  heart.  Mr.  Stanley  called  at  the  hotel  and  set- 
tled with  me. 

loth. — I  saw  in  the  "  Globe  "  an  announcement  of  my  name  for  Pros- 
pero  in  the  "  Tempest "  on  the  opening  night  of  Drury  Lane  The- 
ater. I  felt  very  indignant  at  such  an  opening  part,  which  Mr.  Bunn 
knows  very  well  I  except  to.  I  settled  my  bill,  and  set  off  on  a  very 
pleasant  road  towards  London  through  Horsham,  Dorking,  and  Leath- 
erhead.  At  Kingston  we  lunched,  and  turned  off  through  Twicken- 
ham, Isleworth,  and  Baling,  crossed  the  Uxbridge  and  Harrow  Roads 
and  reached  Elstree  by  the  Bushy  Road. 

IHstree,  September  16th.  —  Was  vexed  at  the  loss  of  my  blood-hound 
bitch,  Luath,  but  amused  with  Letty's  Irish  hound,  Bill :  deaf,  and 
answers  occasionally  to  the  name  of  Luath.  Went  over  the  garden 
and  considered  Mr.  Bunn's  letter,  which  I  thought  rude  and  imperi- 
ous ;  returned  the  part  of  Prospero,  as  not  being  yet  engaged  in  the 
theater. 

17th.  —  News  was  brought  me  in  my  dressing-room  of  Luath's  re- 
turn, having  been  brought  back  by  the  men-servants. 

London,  September  18th.  —  Went  to  Mr.  Bunn's  appointment  at 
Drury  Lane  :  he  was  absent,  and  after  some  delay  I  crossed  to  Covent 
Garden.  He  "  could  not  understand  "  me,  nor  "  I,  him."  He  was 
ready  to  agree  to  everything  in  my  "  Algerine "  engagement,  as  he 
called  it,  but  when  we  came  to  the  stipulation  for  "  collateral  secu- 
rity," he  demurred,  and  reference  to  the  motive  becoming  necessary, 
I  was  obliged  to  ask  Dunn  (who  was  present)  to  withdraw.  I  then 
observed  upon  the  debt  of  £200  due  to  me  on  my  Dublin  engage- 
ment, and  that  we  did  not  meet  on  equal  footing.  He  talked  and 
evaded  ;  said  "  my  father  had  also  been  unfortunate,"  and  much  that 
had  no  relation  to  the  case ;  and  ultimately  I  altered  my  security  to 
a  stipulation  that,  "  upon  infringement,  I  should  be  free  to  leave  the 
theatre,"  and  so  agreed  on  the  engagement. 

Elstree,  September  19th.  —  Walked  in  the  garden  and  yard,  and 
spent  the  whole  of  the  day  in  altering  and  writing  out  copies  of  my 
engagement,  an  accompanying  letter  making  part  of  the  agreement, 
with  a  letter  to  Mr.  Bunn,  intended  only  to  put  on  record,  litera  scripta, 
the  -position  in  which  we  stand  towards  each  other.  Mr.  Tomlins 
called,  and  offered  me  £35  for  my  largest  rick,  and  left  me,  requesting 
1  would  not  part  with  it  for  a  pound  more.  I  read  Serle's  petit  drama 
in  the  evening,  and  was  very  much  pleased  with  its  humor,  character, 
and  pathos  ;  the  keeping  of  the  piece  is  excellent.  Before  I  went  to 
bed  I  read  Prospero,  and  as  long  as  my  eyes  could  keep  open  to  it,  in 
bed  too.  I  am  indolent  and  my  mind  is  in  an  unsettled  state.  I  have 
no  good  augury  in  my  feelings  of  the  engagement  I  have  made. 


282  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1833. 

London,  September  25th. —  Went  to  rehearsal  of  the  "Tempest," 
and,  to  my  astonishment,  no  less  than  that  of  the  acting  manager  and 
prompter  to  see  me,  found  there  was  none.  This  is  an  omen  to  draw 
prediction  from. 

October  5th.  —  To  day  being  the  opening  of  Drury  Lane  Theater, 
I  went  to  town  by  Billings,  and  executing  some  domestic  commissions 
previously,  attended  the  rehearsal  of  the  "  Tempest "  at  half-past 
eleven.  There  was  nothing  to  notice  but  its  tedium,  and  the  offer 
made  me  of  a  night's  performance  at  Richmond,  which  I  declined  on 
the  double  reason  of  interference  with  my  attention  to  business  and 
anticipation  of  a  longer  and  more  lucrative  engagement  Received 
two  letters  about  new  plays.  Dined  on  a  chop  at  the  Garrick  Club. 
Was  obliged  to  force  the  locks  of  my  trunks  for  my  dress  of  Prospero  ; 
acted  the  part  unequally,  but  maintained  myself  in  the  only  great  pas- 
sage retained  in  the  characterless,  stupid  old  proser  of  commonplace 
•which  the  acted  piece  calls  Prospero.  The  house  was  good,  and  the 
play  went  off  well. 

10th.  —  At  theater  received  an  anonymous  note  on  the  subject  of 
Lear,  which  came  like  a  friendly  breath  upon  my  dying  enthusiasm  ;  a 
very  kind  note  also  from  Gaspey,  with  extract  from  the  "  Observer's  " 
critique  on  Prospero  and  his  own  remarks  on  Macbeth.  Acted  Pros- 
pero but  indifferently  ;  there  is  little  to  sustain  one's  spirits,  and  mine 
could  not  bear  up  against  the  weight  of  the  part  (Drydeu's  Davenant !) 
and  the  oppression  of  my  cold.  Came  back  not  well,  and  read  the 
part  of  Oakley  before  I  went  to  bed,  and,  in  order  to  get  the  start  of 
the  study  on  my  mind,  read  Biron  ("  Love's  Labor 's  Lost ")  again  in 
bed.  I  wish  to  play  what  I  have  to  do  in  an  artist-like  manner  ;  but 
I  feel  I  shall  never  receive  the  recompense  which,  comparatively,  my 
attention  and  care  might  claim. 

llth.  —  Read  Ford  in  bed,  which  I  am  very  anxious  to  act  well. 
In  reflecting  on  Lear,  I  begin  to  apprehend  that  I  cannot  make  an 
effective  character  of  it.  I  am  oppressed  with  the  magnitude  of  the 
thoughts  he  has  to  utter,  and  shrink  before  the  pictures  of  the  charac- 
ter which  my  imagination  presents  to  me.  Did  not  intend  to  go  to 
rehearsal,  but  reflecting  it  was  for  a  novice,  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  go. 
I  saw  Miss  Phillips  and  talked  to  her  (perhaps  more  kindly  than 
wisely)  on  the  subject  of  the  business  cast  to  her.  My  own  concerns 
are  enough  for  me  :  at  the  Garrick  Club,  where  I  dined,  I  also  allo\v<-<l 
my  opinions  to  be  suspected,  if  not  known,  which  I  might  as  well 
have  kept  to  myself.  Nature  has  given  us  two  ears,  but  only  one 
mouth  —  why  do  we  not  take  the  hint  ? 

12th.  —  Went  to  the  rehearsal  of  Oakley.  Many  jests  in  the  green- 
room ;  one  of  Fawcett  falling  through  a  trap  on  a  man  and  thrashing 
him  for  it. 

14th.  —  At  the  Garrick  Club,  where  I  dined  ;  saw  some  rather  fa- 
vorable criticisms  on  Oakley,  which  gratified  me  in  making  me  feel 
that  I  was  not  now  so  much  the  object  of  personal  dislike.  Lay  down 
in  my  bed  to  read  Pierre.  Colonel  Birch  called,  and  I  got  up  for  him. 


1833.  HOTSPUR— WERNER.  283 

I  was  truly  glad  to  see  him  :  he  took  away  the  case  of  razors  I  had 
intended  for  Calcraft.  My  acting  of  Pierre  did  not  satisfy  me,  though 

I  felt  it  to  be  better  than  my  former  eiforts  in  the  part.  Mrs. 

more  than  realized  my  anticipations :  it  was  the  worst  kind  of  rant 
that  pervaded  her  performance.  Wrote  a  note  of  excuse  to  Talfourd 
for  next  Sunday's  dinner,  in  consequence  of  being  announced  every 
night  this  week. 

IGth,  17th.  —  Acted  part  of  Posthumus  with  freedom,  energy,  and 
truth,  but  there  must  have  been  observable  an  absence  of  all  finish. 
To-night  there  was  a  delay  of  nearly  half  an  hour  and  consequent 
clamor  at  Covent  Garden,  the  singers  having  been  unable  to  go 
through  their  songs.  The  play  of  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra  "  was  called 
for  to-morrow  as  a  new  play,  but  I  induced  Mr.  Cooper  to  alter  it  to 
Saturday.  On  coming  home  I  read  part  of  Antony.  The  more  I  see 
of  the  management  of  Mr.  Bunn,  the  more  I  find  cause  to  blame  the 
proprietor  who  gave  the  theater  to  him  ! 

22d.  —  Acted  Hotspur,  I  scarcely  knew  how.  I  could  and  should 
have  done  it  well  if  I  had  had  rehearsal  to  prove  myself,  and  a  few 
days  to  think  upon  it.  Received  a  severe  blow  on  the  eye  and  cheek 
in  falling,  which  I  apprehend  will  be  a  large  black  eye.  Cooper 
thinks  I  am  so  furious  and  so  strong ! 

2±th.  —  Took  especial  pains  in  acting  Werner  :  made  due  pause,  so 
as  to  discriminate  clearly,  and  subdued  all  tendency  to  exaggeration. 
Satisfied  myself. 

28th.  —  Arrived  in  town ;  found  myself  late  for  the  rehearsal,  which 
was  called  at  ten.  Went  to  the  theater  and,  under  the  sensation  of 
wearied  body  and  mind,  proceeded  with  the  play.  In  the  wardrobe 
found  no  dress  for  me,  and  lost  my  temper.  Read  a  little  of  Leontes. 
Oppressed  with  weariness.  Acted  very  ill,  being  literally  imperfect. 
This  disgusting  management ! 

29th.  —  Dined  at  the  Garrick  Club  ;  found  very  pleasant  mention 
of  my  Leontes  in  the  papers,  and  held  a  cheerful  conversation  with 
some,  whom  once  I  thought  my  enemies.  I  read  through  Hotspur, 
but  failed  in  giving  the  effect  of  the  previous  evening  to  it :  it  was  not 
collected  nor  artist-like,  an  absence  of  finish  and  point  throughout.  Is 
this  my  fault,  or  to  be  attributed  to  the  hurried  state  of  mind  in  which 
the  manager  keeps  me  ?  If  it  be  the  last,  I  ought  to  combat  and 
overcome  its  evil  influence. 

November  1st.  —  Dined  at  the  Garrick  Club,  where  I  saw  Fladgate, 
Lindley,  etc.,  who  praised  my  Werner  much,  and  likened  my  appear- 
ance at  last  to  Ugolino.  Slept  from  fatigue  in  waiting  for  two  serv- 
ants who  did  not  come.  Acted  Macbeth  passably. 

Sunday,  November  3d. —  Met  the  party  at  breakfast  in  good  spirits 
and  with  feelings  of  pleasure  and  a  sense  of  gratefulness  for  the  bless- 
ings and  comforts  afforded  to  me  in  this  world  by  the  bounty  of  Al- 
mighty God.  Went  to  morning  church,  thought  of  the  comforts  dis- 
pensed to  me  in  this  world.  To  the  Giver  of  all,  I  offer  up  my  praise, 
thanks,  and  blessings.  What  is  man,  that  He  should  be  mindful  of 


284  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1833. 

him  ?  Let  me  deserve,  or  try  to  deserve,  at  least,  some  of  the  good 
which  I  so  largely  enjoy  ! 

Sth.  —  Began  my  day  with  the  rehearsal  of  lago,  in  which  I  had  to 
encounter  and  try  to  fortify  myself  against  the  prospect  of  an  imper- 
fect Roderigo,  the  gentleman  only  having  received  the  part  the  morn- 
ing before  or  late  the  previous  evening.  This  is  most  shameful. 
Dined  at  the  Garrick  Club,  where  I  saw  Fladgate  and  Harley ;  re- 
turning, met  Knowles  and  Mr.  Weekes,  an  actor  whom  I  did  not  at 
all  recollect.  Wrote  to  Catherine  and  had  a  visit  from  Ellen,  and  one 
from  Dow,  who  sat  long,  too  long  for  the  necessary  self-possession  and 
nerve  of  lago.  I  must  be  resolute,  when  I  have  important  characters 
on  my  mind,  and  must  refuse  to  expend  either  spirits,  thought,  or 
voice  in  idle  conversation. 

$th.  —  Rehearsed  "  Jane  Shore  "  without  Dumont  or  Ratcliffe,  in 
order  to  regenerate  the  drama.  Dined  at  Gurrick  Club,  saw  the 
papers  which  gave  me  certainly  not  less  commendation  than  I  merited 
in  lago,  if  indeed  they  did  not  give  me  more  ;  but  I  was  knocked  up. 
Sent  Colonel  Birch  orders  and  wrote  to  dear  Catherine.  Forster 
called,  whom  I  have  real  pleasure  in  seeing.  I  acted  Lord  Hastings 
well  —  really  well ;  I  almost  satisfied  myself;  a  little  more  truth  in 
part  of  the  last  scene  would  have  made  it  a  very  commendable  per- 
formance. I  looked  at  a  dress  for  Hamlet,  and  read  part  of  it  when  I 
reached  home.  Received  a  note  from  Mrs.  Fouche  about  a  suit  of 
chain  armor. 

10th.  —  After  thinking  over  part  of  Hamlet  in  bed,  I  rose  rather 
late,  and  busied  myself  for  some  time  in  indispensable  duties  connected 
with  my  theatrical  toilet.  Noted  down  my  accounts  and  began  the 
reading  of  Hamlet,  which  I  persisted  in,  though  often  obliged  to  sit 
down  from  pain  in  my  back,  until  six  o'clock.  Answered  Mrs. 
Fouche's  letter  about  the  Polish  armor.  Dined  at  the  Garrick  Club, 
and  looked  at  all  the  papers  except  the  "  Age,"  which  I  expected  would 
abuse  me.  Came  home  after  coffee  to  resume  my  reading  of  Hamlet, 
about  which  I  am  most  anxious  and  anticipate  disappointment. 

15th. —  Read  what  I  could  of  Hamlet,  for  all  my  day  was  occupied 
in  watching  over  and  trying  to  administer  to  the  wants  of  my  beloved 
Catherine.  I  began  Hamlet  very  languidly  ;  my  spirits  were  low,  and 
my  mind  not  in  the  part.  I  felt  the  absence  of  what  the  French  justly 
term  inspiration ;  but  in  the  middle  of  the  second  act,  I  rallied,  and 
asserted  myself  through  the  remainder  of  the  play,  acting  the  advice  to 
players  and  some  passages  better  than  on  Monday. 

1 6th.  —  Went  to  the  theater  about  my  dress  for  Antony,  which  I 
persisted,  after  evasion  and  delay,  in  seeing.  Was  disgusted  with  the 

ignorant  impertinence  of  Mr. informing  me  that,  "  because  he 

studied  his  parts  at  so  short  a  notice,  I  might  also  do  the  same." 
Called  at  hair-dresser's,  and  at  the  Garrick  Club,  where  I  saw  the  pa- 
pers, and  railed  (query,  wisely  ?)  at  the  state  of  things.  Read  Plu- 
tarch's "  Life  of  Antony,"  and  then  gave  a  careful  reading  to  the  part 
itself,  which  is  long,  and  I  fear  not  effective. 


1833.  ANTONY.  285 

London,  November  ISth.  —  Came  to  town  by  Billings.  Henry 
Smith,  Dr.  Lardner,  and  Wallace,  called,  but  I  felt  myself  very  un- 
equal to  conversation,  very  hoarse  and  much  fatigued.  Acted  Werner 
as  well  as  I  could  against  my  illness.  Made  several  strong  effects  by 
management  and  taking  time  —  the  great  secret.  My  indisposition 
was  so  manifest,  that  Mr.  Cooper  sent  over  for  Mr.  Bunn,  counseling 
him  not  to  keep  me  in  the  bills  for  the  morrow.  Mr.  Bunn  seemed 
not  to  think  me  ill  or  hoarse,  but  offered  to  "  shut  the  theater,  if  I 
wished."  I  peremptorily  declined,  and  said  I  was  ready  to  act,  if  able  ; 
he  decided,  it  seems,  on  closing  to-morrow.  Settled  dresses  for  An- 
tony, of  which  nothing  was  allowed  to  be  new  but  a  cloak. 

ISth.  —  Went  to  rehearsal  of  Antony,  which  was  in  a  very  backward 
state,  and  mounted  with  very  inappropriate  scenery,  though  beautifully 
painted  by  Stanfield.  Earle  called  to  see  me,  said  I  ought  to  lay  by 
for  several  days,  and  forbade  me  to  play  on  the  morrow.  I  reported 
his  words  to  Cooper,  and  left  the  rehearsal  at  quarter  before  five. 
Wallace  called,  and  Cooper  sent  a  note  from  Buun  requiring,  "  for  the 
satisfaction  of  the  public,"  Earle's  certificate.  On  Henry's  return  from 
Savory  and  Moore's  I  sent  him  to  H.  Earle ;  he  kept  me  in  a  state  of 
some  anxiety,  not  returning  till  nearly  ten  with  a  certificate  ordering 
me  not  to  play  for  u  several  days  ;  "  which  I  instantly  sent,  "  to  Mr. 
Bunn's  satisfaction." 

"20th.  —  Read  Antony  through  the  whole  evening,  and  discovering 
many  things  to  improve  and  bring  out  the  effect  of  the  part,  though 
unable  from  a  pain  at  my  heart,  impeding  my  respiration,  to  practice 
it.  I  found  that  I  had  just  got  an  insight  into  the  general  effect,  but 
had  no  power  of  furnishing  a  correct  picture  or  of  making  any  strong 
hits. 

London,  November  2\st. —  Went  to  rehearsal,  certainly  with  amended 
health,  but  still  rather  hoarse,  not  quite  free  from  the  pain  at  the  heart, 
and  generally  depressed  and  weak.  I  remained  at  the  theater  until 
four  o'clock,  and  protested  to  Messrs.  Willmott  and  Cooper  against  the 
hurried  manner  in  which  I  was  thrust  before  the  public.  Mr.  Bunn 
came  for  a  short  time  and  spoke  to  me  about  Lear,  to  which  I  returned 
a  vague  answer,  and  about  "•  a  great  go  "  on  which  he  wished  to  speak 
with  Stanfield  and  myself. 

22d.  —  Cooper  went  with  me  to  see  some  very  beautiful  gold  coins, 
among  which  were  several  of  Antony.  At  Garrick  Club  saw  Fladgate 
and  spoke  to  him  on  the  subject  of  a  bust  to  Mrs.  Siddons.  Read  the 
newspapers,  which  were,  I  thought,  very  liberal  in  their  strictures  on 
Antony.  Acted  Antony  better  to-night  than  last  night,  but  it  is  a 
hasty,  unprepared,  unfinished  performance.  Mr.  Cooper's  report  of 
Mr.  Bunn's  reply  to  my  proposal  was  that  he  asked,  "  Is  Mr.  Macready 
disposed  to  give  up  half  his  salary  for  that  fortnight  ?  " 

23d.  —  H.  Earle's  answer,  desiring  me  to  rest  from  acting,  was 
brought. 

JElstree,  Sunday,  November  24th.  —  Began  a  letter  to  Cooper,  which 
I  found  too  long.  Read  prayers  to  my  family.  Wrote  a  letter  to 


286  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1833. 

Cooper  tendering,  through  him,  the  resignation  of  my  engagement  and 
offering  a  premium  for  it. 

25th.  —  It  occurred  to  me  last  night  in  going  to  bed,  and  again  this 
morning,  that  I  had  omitted  the  notice  of  an  important  fact  in  my  letter 
to  Mr.  Cooper,  which  I  accordingly  held  back  and  re-wrote.  My  dear 
Catherine  is  something  better  to-day,  but  does  not  enable  me  to  dismiss 
my  anxiety  on  her  account.  I  walked  round  the  garden  and  through 
the  yard,  enjoying  the  free  breath  of  heaven  over  herb  and  tree.  This 
letter  to  Cooper,  involving  much,  occupied  my  thoughts  for  most  of  the 
morning ;  in  case  either  of  acceptance  or  refusal  it  places  me  better 
than  I  am,  at  least  I  think  so  —  hope  so. 

27th.  —  After  a  night  in  which  I  was  called  up  very  frequently  by 
my  darling  Nina's  illness,  I  was  awoke  in  the  morning  by  letters  from 
Messrs.  Bunn  and  Cooper.  Mr.  Cooper's  informing  me  that  Mr.  Bunn 
would  reply  to  my  proposal ;  and  Mr.  Bunn,  taking  up  a  very  friendly 
tone,  saying  nothing  in  extenuation  of  his  annoyance  to  me,  but  prom- 
ising that  in  future  my  wishes  should  be  consulted,  at  the  same  time 
refusing  to  relinquish  my  engagement.  On  getting  up  I  applied  my- 
self to  answer  him,  which  I  did  —  not  very  satisfactorily  to  myself,  but 
mildly  and  in  a  temper  rather  inclining  to  smooth  asperities. 

28th.  —  Read  some  passages  in  the  Roman  history  (to  me  as  fasci- 
nating or  perhaps  much  more  so  than  the  best  romance)  embracing  the 
war  of  the  pirates,  that  of  Mithridates  with  Lucullus  and  its  conclusion 
by  Pompey,  who  seems  to  have  been  far  from  an  unexceptionable 
character.  Mr.  Rogers  called  and  saw  dear  Nina.  I  returned  to  my 
diary  and  history.  I  also  looked  over  Otway's  works,  but  saw  nothing 
in  them  that  tempted  me  to  sit  down  and  read. 

2Sth.  —  Looked  over  the  "  City  Madam  "  and  could  not  find  cause 
for  Gifford's  reprehension  of  Sir  J.  B.  Burgess's  alteration  of  the  play  ; 
his  language  is  not  equal  to  the  racy  vigor  of  a  Massinger,  but  his 
alteration  of  the  play,  reducing  it  to  probability,  is  I  think  judicious, 
though  timid  and  sometimes  feeble. 

30tfi.  —  I  sat  down  to  look  through  and  mark  available  passages  in 
the  "  City  Madam  "  for  a  revision  of  "  Riches,"  which  I  propose  to  cut 
into  three  acts.  I  purposed  walking  out  with  the  dogs  to  Mr.  Fowler's  ; 
but  the  thought  of  saving  our  servants'  labor  induced  me  to  dine  with 
the  children,  and  forego  my  exercise.  After  dinner  I  continued  to 
think  of  Luke  until  I  fell  asleep. 

December  1st.  —  The  news  which  letters  conveyed  to  me  this  morn- 
ing from  the  papers,  was  the  death  of  my  old  master  Dr.  Wooll.  I 
really  regret  him,  he  was  kind,  most  hospitable,  ready  to  enjoy  and 
delighted  to  look  upon  enjoyment,  in  short  of  a  most  benevolent  dis- 
position ;  this  made  the  weaknesses  of  his  character,  his  vanity  and 
French-abbe-like  manner  less  unamiable.  He  had  little  or  no  preten- 
sions to  profound  learning,  but  he  was  a  thoroughly  good-natured,  kind- 
hearted  man. 

London,  December  2d.  —  At  the  theatre  I  began  Antony  very  feebly, 
but  rallied  and  acted  parts  of  it  better  than  I  had  yet  done.  I  learned 


1833.  SARDANAPALUS.  287 

from  Cooper  that  "  Sardanapalus  "  was  to  be  done  with  a  grand  scene, 
the  proposal  I  made  in  the  beginning  of  the  season  to  Reynolds  !  This 
I  take  it  is  the  "  great  go  !  " 

3d.  —  Walked  with  Harley  to  Garrick  Club  ;  saw  Raymond,  etc.  ; 
they  said  Sheil  was  suspected  to  be  the  traitor  spoken  of  by  Hill.1 
Called  on  Mr.  Lough  ;  liked  his  simplicity  and  enthusiasm  much,  but 
do  not  admire  his  last  work  of  the  Centaurs  and  Lapithae  ;  liked  his 
family.  Read  the  first  act  of  "  Virginius,"  which  1  ought  to  have 
attended  to  before. 

4th.  —  Dear  Letitia's  birthday.  May  God  bless  her  and  send  her 
many  happy  ones  !  At  rehearsal  I  gave  much  trouble  in  putting  the 
play  on  the  stage,  as  it  was  originally  got  up  by  me.  I  fear  I  incurred 
much  remark  and  ill-will.  I  am  sorry  for  it.  At  Garrick  Club,  where 
I  dined,  I  chatted  with  Collins  on  the  drama,  and  with  Bartley  on  the 
subject  of  my  late  correspondence  with  Mr.  Bunn  —  he  saw  my  first 
letter  and  thought  it  a  most  temperate  and  straightforward  one.  I 
sent  Smith  orders  in  answer  to  his  note  and  went  to  bed,  so  very  tired 
and  weak  was  I.  Looked  at  the  part  of  Sardanapalus,  which  Mr. 
Cooper  had  given  me  with  "  Mr.  Bunn's  best  compliments."  Acted 
Virginius,  not  to  my  satisfaction  ;  was  tame  and  inefficient  in  the  early 
part,  but  warmed  with  the  progress  of  the  play  and  was  myself  in  the 
two  last  acts. 

Elstree,  December  5th.  —  Read  through  the  part  of  Sardanapalus,  which 
I  think  (but  had  better  not. say)  is  injudiciously  cut.  Dined  at  Garrick 
Club,  and  looked  at  some  of  the  magazines.  A  criticism  in  the  "  New 
Monthly,"  finding  fault  with  a  passage  in  my  Jaques  pleased  me  much 
from  its  truth  and  good  taste.  Came  home,  and  read  King  John, 
after  looking  over  the  parts  of  Shakespeare  for  one  to  excite  attention 
in.  I  fear  it  is  not  to  be  done  but  by  slow  degrees,  and  "  while  the 
grass  grows,"  etc.  Looked  at  parts  of  Coriolanus. 

London,  December  6th.  —  Only  rose  to  attend  the  rehearsal  of  King 
John,  to  which,  if  I  wish  to  act  well,  I  must  give  much  of  to-morrow ; 
for  I  am  not  master  in  execution  of  my  own  wishes  and  conceptions  of 
the  part,  which  I  ought  to  act  grandly.  At  the  Garrick  Club,  where  I 
dined  and  saw  papers,  I  took  advertisement  of  servants  and  sent  for 
one  on  coming  home  ;  she  did  not  come.  I  looked  after  my  John's 
dress,  and  received  a  letter  of  thanks  for  Virginius.  Brewster  called ; 
ordered  wig  for  Coriolanus :  if  the  public  choose  to  be  pleased,  I  will 
spare  no  pains  nor  expense  to  please  them.  Sheil  is  in  a  predica- 

1  Mr.  Matthew  Davenport  Hill,  M.  P.  for  Hull,  in  a  speech  to  his  constituents, 
made  at  this  time,  stated  that  an  Irish  member,  who  spoke  violently  against  the 
Coercion  Bill,  had,  in  private,  advised  the  Government  not  to  relax  any  of  its  pro- 
visions, and  asked,  "Who  is  the  traitor?"  On  the  5th  of  February,  1834,  Mr. 
O'Connell  called  the  attention  of  the  House  of  Commons  to  the  subject,  and,  on  be- 
half of  the  Irish  members,  asked  lor  an  explanation.  Lord  Althorp,  then  leading 
the  Honse  of  Commons,  declined  to  assure  Mr.  Sheil  that  he  was  not  the  member 
intended ;  a  duel  seemed  impending,  and  they  were  both  put  in  the  custody  of  the 
Sergeant-at-Arms.  Mr.  Sheil  was  afterwards  cleared  of  the  suspicions  raised 
against  him,  by  a  Select  Committee  appointed  to  report  upon  the  matter.  —  ED. 


288  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1833. 

ment ;  I  would  counsel  him  to  fight,  but  that  I  do  not  like  to  incur  the 
possible  consequences  of  reflection.  Acted  leisurely,  without  inspira- 
tion or  perspiration ;  still,  I  seemed  to  produce  an  effect  upon  the  au- 
dience, but  I  was  not  identified  with  Werner.  "  Je  n'etais  pas  le  per- 
sonnage."  Lost  my  temper  (oh,  fool !)  about  an  interference  with  my 
order  for  King  John's  dress. 

JSlstree,  December  1th.  —  Rose  at  a  very  early  hour  with  perfect  pleas- 
ure to  return  home  by  the  Grown  Prince  coach ;  endeavored  on  my  way 
to  keep  my  thoughts  on  King  John,  but  they  ludicrously  mixed  them- 
selves with  other  subjects  and  lulled  me  into  invincible  slumbers. 
Arriving  on  a  very  rainy  and  tempestuous  day,  I  found  my  darling 
Nina  better,  but  very  thin,  and  dearest  Willie  better,  but  fretful  and 
not  quite  well.  After  breakfast  I  read,  with  a  desire  of  improvement, 
King  John,  and  remained  in  the  drawing-room  (coming  down  only 
twice  for  short  periods)  until  past  four  o'clock.  I  then  took  up 
"  Sardanapalus,"  which  I  read,  comparing  it  with  the  original,  and 
marking  my  book  by  it  —  I  do  not  think,  witli  whatever  adjuncts, 
that  it  can  do  5  it  seems  to  me  very  undramatically  prepared ;  and 
most  injudiciously  have  the  selections  of  its  poetry  been  made.  After 
dinner  (what  with  a  yule  log,  and  good  port  wine,  I  enjoyed  my  fire- 
side) I  returned  to  my  tiresome  task  of  collating  "  Sardanapalus." 

London,  December  $th. —  Came  to  town  by  Killings,  and  went  to  re- 
hearsal, at  which  there  was  no  Hubert :  an  unnsual  and  not  very  pleas- 
ant occurrence.  From  the  theater  went  to  dine  and  see  the  papers  at 
the  Garrick  Club.  Returning  to  chambers,  wrote  notes  and  was  a  good 
deal  disturbed  by  loss  of  temper  as  well  as  time  (a  loss  attributable  only 
to  my  own  folly)  on  the  subject  of  my  armor  for  King  John.  I  went 
to  the  theater  thinking,  first,  of  my  dress  and,  secondly,  of  King  John. 
I  am  ashamed,  grieved,  and  distressed  to  acknowltxlge  the  truth  :  I 
acted  disgracefully,  worse  than  I  have  done  for  years  ;  I  shall  shrink 
from  looking  into  a  newspaper  to-morrow,  for  I  deserve  all  that  can  be 
said  in  censure  of  me.  I  did  what  I  feared  I  should  do,  sacrificed  my 
character  to  my  dress !  Wallace  and  Talfourd  came  into  my  room,  and 
I  felt  what  they  thought  of  my  performance ;  it  has  made  me  very 
unhappy. 

10M.  —  I  feared  to  look  into  the  papers,  but  found  them,  on  going 
to  meet  Fladgate  by  appointment  at  the  Garrick  Club  very  indulgent 
indeed.  The  "  Herald"  remarked,  in  objection,  upon  my  dress,  so  that 
I  suffered  as  I  ought,  but  not  in  the  degree  I  merited.  Went  with 
Fladgate  to  call  on  Chantrey,  who  received  us  very  kindly,  and  with 
whom  we  had  a  most  interesting  conversation.  Our  purpose  was  to 
ascertain  his  price  for  a  bust  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  to  be  placed  in  West- 
minster Abbey  by  the  Garrick  Club.  He  told  us  two  hundred  guin- 
eas, but  that  the  price  should  be  no  obstacle ;  he  spoke  most  pleas- 
ingly and  liberally.  Fladgate  was  delighted  with  him.  On  leaving 
him  to  inquire,  at  his  request,  of  Deville  if  he  had  a  cast  of  Mrs.  Sid- 
dons,  we  arranged  our  plan  of  operations,  viz.,  to  learn  all,  ask  the  prac- 
ticability of  the  plan,  and  then  at  a  "  house-dinner "  engage  members 


1833.  CORIOLANUS.        .  289 

of  the  Club  to  support  it.  We  went  to  Deville's,  saw  the  casts  of  Sid- 
dons,  Miss  O'Neill,  etc.  I  was  very  much  gratified  with  Chantrey's 
conversation.  He  observed  that,  to  satisfy  relations  or  friends  it  was 
desirable  that  the  likeness  of  a  bust  should  be  as  exact  as  possible,  but 
that  in  the  case  of  a  person  of  genius,  we  must  have  something  to  en- 
gage the  attention  and  respect  of  those  who  could  never  be  able  to 
judge  of  a  likeness.  His  remarks  on  the  necessity  of  supplying  the 
want  of  colors  by  shadows  pleased  me  much  :  that  if  he  copied  ex- 
actly a  face,  as  it  actually  was,  it  would  neither  have  effect  nor  resem- 
blance ;  but  that  he  was  obliged  to  vary,  always  with  due  caution  and 
care,  the  exact  surface,  giving  prominence  where  shadows  might  be 
needful  to  give  the  corresponding  effect  to  color. 

13th. — I  acted  Hotspur  in  a  way  that  showed  me  my  ability  to  play 
it  much  better,  and  indeed  very  well.  I  took  more  time  over  the 
opening  speech,  but  found  as  I  proceeded  the  want  of  study,  and  how 
very  little  pains  would  make  it  good.  I  also  found  in  the  progress  of 
the  scene  the  vast  benefit  derived  from  keeping  vehemence  and  effort 
out  of  passion.  It  is  everything  for  nature.  The  reading  the  letter 
was  not  bad  chiefly  on  that  account.  At  home  I  looked  through  the 
leaves  of  Victor  Hugo's  play. 

14ith.  —  Awoke  late,  and  got  up  in  great  haste  to  dress  for  rehearsal. 
Was  there  in  time ;  saw  the  play,  "  Coriolanus,"  in  so  disgraceful  a 
state,  that  it  was  useless  to  bestow  a  word  upon  the  mise  en  scene : 
had  not  even  the  power  to  try  myself  in  the  feeling  of  the  part.  After 
rehearsal  went  to  pay  in  some  money  at  Ransom's,  and  called  at  the 
Garrick  Club. 

JElstree,  December  1 5th.  —  Dow  called  while  I  was  looking  through 
Shakespeare's  "  Julius  Ccesar,"  with  an  eye  to  its  mise  en  scene.  On 
his  departure  I  walked  round  the  garden  and  then  read  the  "  Corio- 
lanus "  of  Plutarch.  After  dinner  read  the  part  of  Coriolanus,  and 
afterwards  answered  a  tax-collector's  charge  of  £2  8s.  for  armorial 
bearings. 

1  Gth.  —  Called  at  Brewster's,  and  was  disappointed  in  my  wig. 
Walked  to  Garrick  Club,  where  I  saw  newspapers,  Winston,  and  took 
down  a  servant's  advertisement.  Came  home,  and  sent  notes  after 
servants  and  wrote  to  H.  Smith  about  to-morrow.  Dozed  through 
the  afternoon. 

London.  —  H.  Earle  called  to  see  Nina ;  a  note  from  H.  Smith  with 
directions  for  his  money  to-morrow.  Acted  languidly  and  ineffectively 
most  of  the  two  first  acts  of  "  Coriolanus,"  but  in  the  third  act  I  as- 
sumed the  character,  and  in  the  last  blazed  out ;  the  audience  were 
much  excited.  Wallace  came  into  my  room,  and  said  it  was  splendid. 

December  17th.  —  Awoke  in  the  night  by  my  dear  child's  illness, 
which  begins  to  make  me  very  uneasy.  May  God  Almighty  restore 
her  to  her  former  health  and  spirits  In  bed  I  read  four  acts  of  "  Sar- 
danapalus,''  and  immediately  on  rising  went  to  Hansom's,  where  I  got 

£999,  proceeding  with  it  to  H.  Smith's,  where  I  met  Lord  H ,  a 

gentlemanly,  farmer-looking  person,  and  paid  in  £999  10s.,  insuring 
19 


290  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1833. 

his  life  at  £57  for  an  annuity  of  £135.  Afterwards  read  at  the  Gar- 
rick  Club  some  favorable  notices,  especially  that  of  the  "  Chronicle," 
on  my  last  night's  performance.  Read  through  the  character  of  Luke, 
and  looked  through  the  play  previous  to  arrangement,  which  I  began 
this  evening.  Two  Cambridge  men,  Macaulay's  friends,  importuned 
me  for  leave  to  go  behind  Covent  Garden  scenes.  I  wrote  to  say  that 
I  had  no  power.  Dearest  Nina  seems  better  to-night.  Tried  to  rec- 
oncile a  disagreement  between  my  own  and  my  banker's  account  which 
perplexes  me.  Read  the  last  act  of  "  Sardanapalus,"  which  does  not 
improve  upon  me.  Read  part  of  "  Julius  Caesar." 

ISth.  —  Again  passed  a  very  disturbed  night,  and  in  the  morning 
lay  late  in  bed  ruminating  on  the  character  of  Luke  and  the  general 
effect  of  the  play.  I  am  in  doubt  whether  I  should  be  justified  before 
an  English  audience  in  substituting  the  truth  of  Massinger  for  the 
trashy  uncharacteristic  rant  of  Sir  J.  Burges.  Intended  my  first  busi- 
ness to  be  a  call  on  Forster,  whose  arrival  here  anticipated  me ;  after 
some  conversation  walked  out  with  him  to  call  on  Mason,  and  came 
round  by  the  Garrick  Club,  where  I  dined  and  looked  at  papers.  At 
the  theater  I  found  a  note  from  Kenneth,  overtures  frpm  Bath.  I 
acted  William  Tell  tolerably  well.  Forster  called  for  me  in  a  coach 
with  Talfourd  and  Procter.  I  met  at  his  lodgings  Blanchard,  a  pleas- 
ing man,  Abbott,  Knowles,  and  others.  A  pleasant  but  too  indulging 
evening ;  toasts  and  commendations  flying  about.  A  great  deal  of 
heart,  and  when  that  is  uppermost  the  head  is  generally  subjected. 
Procter  is  to  send  his  play. 

19M.  —  Forster  called  to  bring  my  cloak,  which  I  had  left  last  night, 
and  my  pocket  handkerchief  which  Knowles  in  jest  had  taken  from  me 
unperceived.  Read  through  "  Coriolanus,"  which  I  am  very  anxious 
to  make  a  part  of,  but  fear  the  uninteresting  nature  of  the  story  and 
the  recollection  of  Kemble  are  objections  too  strong  to  overcome. 
Made  calculations  on  the  various  proposals  from  Dublin,  in  reference 
also  to  my  future  country  excursions  and  my  general  income,  which  oc- 
cupied me  some  time,  and  wrote  thereon  a  long  letter  to  Calcraft. 

20th.  —  Called  at  the  theater  and  spoke  to  Mr.  Cooper  about 
Colonel  D'Aguilar's  "  Fiesco,"  and  my  own  absence.  Spoke  to  Ken- 
neth about  Bath  and  Newcastle.  Dined  at  the  Garrick  and  read  the 
article  on  Sheil.  I  look  upon  him  as  lost  for  want  of  discretion  in 
involving  himself,  and  want  of  firmness  to  extricate  himself.  Wrote 
invitations  to  Stanfield  and  Abbott.  Wallace  called.  Note  of  excuse 
from  Stanfield.  Acted  Coriolanus  not  so  well  as  on  Monday;  the 
scene  with  Volumnia,  much  better,  but  gave  too  much  voice  to  some 
speeches  in  the  last  scene  chiefly  through  that  pleasant  actor,  Aufidius, 
purposely  disconcerting  me. 

2lst.  —  Had  a  long  conversation  with  Mr.  Meadows  on  the  subject 
of  the  theaters  ;  spoke  to  him  about  a  dinner  to  Dowton,  which  I  re- 
quested him  to  speak  to  the  actors  about ;  told  him  that  I  should  be  glad 
to  see  him  at  Elstree.  Read  over  the  two  first  acts  of  "  Sardanapa- 
lus "  in  the  carriage,  which  does  not  improve  upon  me.  Must  employ 


1833.  GOETHE'S  "EGMON."  291 

the  few  days  of  leisure  before  me  in  getting  ahead  of  business,  and 
digesting  some  plan  towards  the  re-establishment  of  my  profession. 
How  much  might  be  done  if  opportunity  were  only  in  my  power ! 

Elstree,  Sunday,  December  2"2d.  —  Went  to  morning  service  and  gave 
Mr.  Chalk  £20  to  be  distributed  in  coals  among  the  poor.  I  do  not 
perceive  why,  with  the  sentiment  I  entertain  of  this,  as  a  religious  and 
moral  duty,  I  should  mix  myself  with  persons  who  have  nothing  else 
in  common  with  me.  "  My  order  is  an  extensive  one,  that  of  human- 
ity ;  and  "  Homo  sum "  is  my  motto,  a  truly  Christian  sentiment 
uttered  by  an  heathen  poet. 

23d.  —  A  disturbed  night,  in  which  I  tried  to  think  over  part  of 
"  Riches,"  made  me  again  a  late  riser.  A  note,  accepting  my  invita- 
tion, came  from  Dr.  Spurgin.  On  coming  down  I  sent  an  order  to 
town  for  the  newspapers  of  this  week.  Made  myself  perfect  in  the 
first  act  of  "  Sardanapalus,"  not  a  little  task.  Wrote  to  a  Mr.  Holme 
and  Mr.  Abrahall  about  MSS.  they  wish  to  send :  also  a  note  to  Mr. 
Harris  (St.  Alban's)  about  the  charge  for  my  armorial  bearings. 
Spent  about  an  hour  in  the  garden  under  a  pelting  rain  opening  the 
drains  ;  even  with  the  unpleasant  weather,  I  felt  gratification  in  employ- 
ing myself  again  in  the  garden.  Read  through  attentively  an  adaptation 
of  Goethe's  play  of  "  Egmon ; "  unacquainted  as  I  am  with  the  lan- 
guage, and  knowing  by  translation  but  a  very  few  of  Goethe's  works, 
it  would  be  impertinent  to  hint  an  opinion  on  them  :  all  I  may  say  is 
that  I  do  not  feel  the  power  of  those  J  have  read.  Wrote  a  note  upon 
the  piece  to  the  translator,  Mr.  Thomas  Arnold.  Continued  my  revis- 
ion and  reduction  of  "  Riches,"  which  I  find  a  longer  task  than  I  ex- 
pected. The  rain  has  poured  without  intermission  through  the  day 
and  prevented  me  from  taking  the  exercise  I  had  intended,  but  my 
tasks  have  engaged  and  my  children  amused  me. 

25th.  —  Wrote  an  answer  to  Serle  on  his  application  respecting  the 
theatrical  monopoly,  suggesting,  as  some  security  to  actors,  authors,  and 
the  public,  a  price,  graduated  according  to  the  quality  of  the  dramatic 
exhibitions,  to  be  set  upon  the  license  granted.  Wallace  came  in 
while  I  was  speaking  on  it  to  Dow,  and  opened  a  furious  invective 
against  the  plan,  contending  for  universal  and  unrestricted  license  to 
act  the  drama  in  every  street. 

31st.  —  Serle  called,  and  I  had  a  very  long  conference  with  him,  as 
adjourned  from  yesterday.  I  could  not  on  reconsideration  be  a  party 
to  throwing  open  the  drama  indiscriminately,  so  ruinous  did  it  appear 
to  me  to  the  general  interests  of  the  profession.  We  at  last  concurred 
in  the  expediency  of  confining  the  right  of  acting  the  classic  drama 
to  the  four  large  theaters  of  Westminster,  restricting  its  performance 
elsewhere  to  a  great  distance,  not  including  therein  the  Garrick  and 
Pavilion.  I  agreed  to  see  Arnold  on  the  subject  and  Morris ;  and,  if 
the  former  entered  into  our  views,  to  endeavor  to  move  the  actors  to 
join  in  a  petition  to  Parliament. 

And  now  having  reached  this  point  of  time,  the  verge  of  another 
year,  which  warns  me  how  rapidly  I  am  nearing  the  brink  of  eternity, 


292  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1833. 

I  turn  my  thoughts  to  my  God,  the  Giver  of  all  the  good  I  enjoy, 
either  in  external  things  or  in  the  feelings  with  which  I  appreciate 
them.  I  bless  and  praise  His  sacred  name  for  the  undeserved  mercies 
He  has  showered  upon  me,  and  I  close  this  year's  record  with  my 
humble  and  fervent  prayers  for  the  continuance  of  His  mercy  and 
many  blessings  on  my  dear  wife  and  children  and  myself,  beseeching 
Him  to  instill  wisdom,  virtue,  and  love  into  our  hearts,  and  make  us 
merit  as  well  as  enjoy  His  divine  blessings. 


[The  following  literary  criticisms  on  Racine,  Voltaire,  and  Horace 
are  written  in  at  the  end  of  the  Diary  for  1833  :] 

"  Bajazet"  —  The  continual  uncertainty  of  the  events  in  this  trag- 
edy alternately  exciting  the  hopes  and  fears  of  the  audience,  and  the 
skill  with  which  the  catastrophe  is  kept  concealed  until  its  sudden  de- 
velopment, impart  an  interest  to  it  that  rivets  the  attention  and  stimu- 
lates the  curiosity  in  every  scene.  There  are  some  very  beautiful 
passages,  particularly  in  Atalide's  interview  with  Bajazet:  her  charac- 
ter is  as  delicately  drawn  as  that  of  Roxane  forcibly  and  truly.  The 
furious  love,  the  jealousy,  and  conflicting  emotions  of  rage  and  fond- 
ness in  this  powerful  character  are  depicted  with  a  variety,  fidelity, 
and  pathetic  effect  scarcely  inferior  to  the  sufferings  and  passion  of 
Dido.  There  are  hints  in  this  tragedy  for  a  skillful  dramatist  to  im- 
prove on  greatly. 

The  scene  in  which  Roxane  forces  the  secret  of  Atalide's  love  from 
her  tortured  heart  is  apt  to  recall,  perhaps  merely  from  the  relation  of 
the  persons  to  each  other,  the  experiment  made  by  Mithridate  on 
Monime  :  where  success  so  triumphantly  sanctions  the  use  of  means, 
I  believe  it  is  of  little  importance  to  detect  partial  resemblances. 
Both  scenes  are  excellent,  but  that  of  Mithridate  excels.  The  sketch 
of  Acomat  is  perhaps  an  exception  to  the  simplicity  and  natural  pas- 
sion distinguishing  the  other  characters.  His  sense  of  his  own  impor- 
tance borders  on  the  ludicrous,  and  his  resolution  to  die  reminds  us  of 
Dryden's  inflated  commonplaces : 

"  Mourons,  mon  cher  Osmin,  comme  un  visir ;  et  toi, 
Coinme  le  lavori  d'un  homme  tel  que  moi." 

His  policy  and  craft  in  one  scene  with  Roxane  are  adroitly  displayed, 
and  perhaps  to  a  French  ear  the  mode  of  expression  objected  to  may 
not  have  the  same  degree  of  pompous  timidity  conveyed  by  it  to  minds 
disciplined  in  a  severe  school  of  thought  and  diction. 

" Mithridate"  —  Except  in  the  catastrophe,  which  in  "  Bajazet "  is 
quite  a  surprise,  and  the  cause  for  further  distress,  this  tragedy  is  su- 
perior to  the  foregoing.  It  derives,  no  doubt,  an  interest  from  its  very 
name,  which  raises  our  minds  to  the  expectation  of  a  grand  and  terri- 
ble succession  of  scenes  involving  the  sufferings  of  the  defeated  mon- 
arch, the  jealous  lover,  and  the  injured  father.  The  poet,  in  the 
narrow  circle  to  which  his  stage  confines  him,  has  given  admirable 


1833.  CRITICISM  ON  RACINE.  293 

representations  of  the  rival  brothers,  skillfully  contrasted,  of  the  timid 
Monime  whom  love  alone  can  lift  above  her  natural  gentleness,  and 
of  the  stern  and  lofty  Mithridate,  who  stands  before  us  as  a  worthy 
foe  to  Roman  supremacy.  The  development  of  his  plan  of  conquest 
to  his  sons  seems  only  fit  to  be  uttered  from  a  throne,  nor  less  deserv- 
ing of  remark  is  the  fiendish  spite  of  the  traitor  Pharnace,  leaving  the 
sting  of  his  revenge  in  the  disclosure  of  his  brother's  passion  as  he  is 
dragged  away.  "  II  aime  aussi  la  reine,  et  meme  en  est  aime  ! "  The 
dissimulation  of  Mithridate,  so  prominent  a  feature  in  his  character,  is 
sustained  throughout,  though  never  obtruded  nor  resorted  to  for  trifling 
purposes,  so  that  he  descends  to  artifice  without  lowering  the  dignity 
of  his  demeanor.  Our  pity  is  excited  by  the  naked  view  he  gives  of 
his  inward  torments  in  the  soliloquy  : 

"  Je  ne  le  croirai  point !    Vain  espoir,  qui  me  flatte  ! 
Tu  ne  le  crois  que  trop,  raalheurcux  Mithridate !  " 

And  even  the  respect  he  loses  in  our  minds  by  the  mean  sophistry  of 
his  own  defense  (which  would  be  as  well  omitted,  "  S'il  n'est  digne  de 
moi,  le  piege  est  digne  d'eux  "),  is  soon  regained  by  the  picture  he 
draws  of  himself,  despoiled  of  his  glories,  and  depressed  by  his  load 
of  years :  • 

"  Jusqu'ici  la  fortune  et  la  victoire  me'mes 
Cachaient  mes  cheveux  blancs  sous  trente  diademes  : 
Mais  ce  temps-Ik  n'est  plus  ;  je  regnais  et  je  fuis  ; 
Mes  ans  se  sont  accrus ;  mes  honneurs  sont  detruits." 

Nothing  can  be  more  tragic,  should  I  not  say  more  perfect,  than  the 
terrible  conclusion  of  this  scene.  It  excels  the  famous  interview  of 
Philip,  Carlos,  and  Isabella  in  "  Alfieri,"  inasmuch  as  the  tyrant's 
hatred  of  his  son  in  the  Italian  play  leaves  us  no  power  of  sympathy 
with  him,  whilst  we  cherish  pity,  respect,  and  even  hope  amid  our 
fears  of  the  fury  of  Mithridate.  We  see  the  faces  of  the  tortured 
monarch  and  the  deluded,  startled  maid  as  we  read  :  "  "Vous  1'aimez  ! 
Nous  nous  aimions Seigneur,  vous  changez.de  visage  !" 

No  one  will  deny  the  dramatic  power  of  Racine  after  the  perusal  of 
that  act.  I  should  quote  it  as  a  master-piece  of  tragic  composition. 
The  remainder  of  the  play  does  not  maintain  an  equal  pitch  ;  the 
scenes  which  follow  are  merely  declamatory,  which,  although  spirited, 
passionate,  and  often  poetical,  do  not  bring  the  actors  in  form  and 
gesture  and  in  speaking  looks  palpably  before  us.  We  follow  the 
argument  with  more  or  less  pleasure  as  the  verse  is  smooth  and  strong, 
or  languid  and  harsh,  but  we  read  it  ourselves  as  we  would  a  course 
of  reasoning  on  any  scientific  question.  In  such  scenes  as  those  of 
the  third  act,  we  are  auditors  and  spectators  even  while  we  hold  the 
book  in  our  hands  —  at  least  our  imaginations  are  possessed  with  the 
view  of  the  action  before  us. 

The  events  which  terminate  the  play  are  not  raised,  by  the  form  in 
which  they  are  made  known  to  us,  above  a  recital :  the  death  of  Mith- 
ridate is  not  without  dignity,  but  can  hardly  be  thought  pathetic.  The 
scenes  in  the  fourth  act,  between  Xiphares  and  Monime,  Monime  and 


294  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1833. 

Mithridate,  would  be  productive  of  effect  in  an  early  period  of  the 
play,  but  in  their  actual  position  they  affect  no  more  than  a  well-told 
tale  would  do  immediately  after  the  sight  of  some  appalling  reality. 
The  following  verse  is  one  of  general  application,  a  sure  test  of  its 
merit : 

"  Vaine  erreur  des  amants,  qui,  pleins  de  Icurs  de*sirs, 
Voudraient  que  tout  cedat  au  soin  de  lours  plaisirs !  " 

It  is  in  this  tragedy  the  anecdote  is  told  of  the  actor,  always  habited 
in  the  same  garb,  after  he  had  declaimed 

"  Enfin  aprfes  un  an  d'absence  tu  me  revois,  Arbate," 
being  answered  from  the  parterre  by 

Avec  la  meme  perruque  et  avec  la  meme  cravate  !  " 

Voltaire.  —  My  opinion  of  Voltaire  as  a  dramatic  poet,  has  been 
much  raised  by  the  works  I  have  lately  read.  There  is  much  sim- 
plicity, much  passion,  much  interest,  and  truth  of  very  general  appli- 
cation in  his  "  Nanine ; "  his  characters  are  well  discriminated.  La 
Baronne  and  Nanine  are  in  admirable  relief,  and  the  Count  is  a  noble 
of  nature.  How  often  have  I  felt  the  truth  of  the  observation, 

"  C'est  un  danger,  c'est  pent-ihre  un  grand  tort 
D'avoir  une-ame  au-dessus  de  son  sort !  ' 

and  again, 

"  Cc  monde-ci  n'est  qu'une  loterie 
De  biens,  de  rangs,  de  dignite's,  de  droits 
Brigu^s  sans  litres,  et  re'pandus  sans  choix. 
Mais  la  coutume  ?    Eh  bicn  !  elle  cst  cruellc ; 
Et  la  Nature  cut  ses  droits  avant  elle." 

"  Oreste."  —  There  is  great  merit  in  this  play,  the  interest  that  hangs 
over  the  character  of  Oreste,  and  the  mixed  qualities  of  Clytennestre 
are  the  chief  sources  of  the  pleasure  drawn  from  it.  Iphise  is  pleas- 
ing, if  not  insipid, 'and  Electra  is  a  vixen,  though  with  grand  situa- 
tions and  some  grand  thoughts.  Her  agony  of  parting  with  the  fan- 
cied ashes  of  Oreste  is  very  real,  and  her  invocation  of  the  Furies  is 
truly  sublime.  The  ascribing  all  the  misery  of  the  sufferers  to  destiny 
is  pushed  outrageously  far ;  it  reminds  one  of  Candide,  and  testifies 
the  suspicion  of  impiety  in  the  part.  Is  this  the  language  of  rational 
beings  ? 

"  A  qncl  prix,  dienx  puissants,  avons  nous  recu  1'etre  ? 
N'importe  :  est-ce  a  1'esclave  a  condamuer  son  maitre  1  " 

Horace.  —  Horace  can  very  rarely  be  read  without  pleasure  or 
benefit,  for  it  is  a  service  rendered  to  the  mind  if  either  a  new  truth 
"be  implanted  in  it  or  if  one,  already  having  place  there,  be  strength- 
ened. What  gratification  there  is  in  finding  the  subject  of  a  long 
course  of  reasoning  that  may  have  occupied  our  minds  condensed  in 
one  pithy  and  polished  sentence !  In  the  art  of  life  few  better  pre- 
ceptors can  be  found  than  the  penetrating,  kindly-hearted  Horace. 


1834.  HORACE.  295 

His  metaphors,  too,  are  pictures  —  see  his  description  of  the  power  of 
wealth  and  the  consequences  of  its  accumulation.  (Ode  XVI.  Lib.  3.) 
How  well  contrasted,  too,  is  the  "  Magnas  inter  opes  inops,"  and  the 
exclamation,  "  Importuna  tamen  pauperies  abeSt  ?  "  How  well  he  es- 
timates the  blessing  of  content  and  the  miserable  insatiability  of  him 
who  wishes  for  wealth  ?  What  is  wealth  to  him  that  still  wants  it 
and  never  enjoys  it  ? 

"  Multa  petentibus 

Desunt  multa.     Bene  est,  cui  deus  obtulit 
Parca,  quod  satis  est,  manu." 

In  Milton's  "  Paradise  Regained,"  I  find  a  passage  in  contempt  of 
wealth,  which  seems  rather  more  declamatory,  and  though  true  in  fact, 
offered  in  a  less  convincing  form  than  in  Horace's  Ode  : 

"  Extol  not  riches  then,  the  toil  of  fools, 
The  wise  man's  cumbrance,  if  not  snare,  more  apt 
To  slacken  virtue,  and  abate  her  edge, 
Than  prompt  her  to  do  aught  may  merit  praise." 


1834. 

Elstree,  January  4th.  —  Rose  very  late  after  a  night  through  which 
I  scarcely  slept ;  but  occupied  myself  with  thinking  on  my  present 
condition  in  the  theatrical  profession,  and  attending  to  my  darling 
child  as  she  turned  in  her  bed.  The  necessity  of  rising  still  in  my 
profession,  and  of  gaining  suffrages  to  my  reputation  presented  itself 
so  strongly  to  my  mind,  that  I  determined,  contrary  to  my  original 
intention,  to  offer  such  benefit  as  my  advice  could  yield  towards  the 
play  of  "  Sardanapalus,"  and  to  do  my  best  to  make  the  play  success- 
ful, which  notwithstanding,  I  have  no  hope  of  effecting. 

6th.  —  After  dinner  we  received  the  twelfth-cake  from  London 
which,  as  a  household  superstition,  I  had  ordered.  In  the  evening  I 
read  four  acts  of  Serle's  play  of  the  "  Spanish  Maid,"  which  I  think  a 
pretty,  pleasing  comedy  or  play,  but  do  not  regard  the  part  of  the 
Duke  as  beyond  that  of — if  indeed  equal  to  —  Sir  William  Dorril- 
lons :  still  I  think  the  play  too  good  to  be  rejected. 

London,  January  1th.  —  Rehearsed  part  of  "  Sardanapalus,"  which 
was  stopped  by  a  conversation  on  some  suggestions  of  mine.  Mr. 

is  a  person  as  capable  of  directing  the  mise  en  scene  of  a  play  as 

a  man  devoid  of  information,  industry,  genius,  or  talent  may  be  sup- 
posed to  be.  He  could  not  understand  the  object  of  what  I  pointed 
out  as  necessary,  but  wished  me  to  correct  the  various  errors,  gram- 
matical as  well  as  dramatical,  that  fell  in  my  way,  which  I  declined 
doing,  and  at  length  Mr.  Bunn  ordered  the  MS.  to  be  sent  to  my 
chambers  to  be  cut. 

9th.  —  Went  to  Talfourd's  (from  whom  1  had  received  a  note  of 
invitation  to  supper  in  the  morning)  to  meet  Charles  Lamb ;  met 


296  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1834. 

there  Price,  Forster,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Field  (I  fancy  a  Gibraltar  judge), 
Charles  Lamb,  Moxon  the  publisher.  I  noted  one  odd  saying  of 
Lamb's,  that  "  the  last  breath  he  drew  in  he  wished  might  be  through 
a  pipe  and  exhaled  in  &  pun." 

10^.  —  At  rehearsal  ("  Sardanapalus  ")  I  heard  of  the  great  ex- 
pectations formed  of  the  new  play  read  yesterday,  and  in  the  regret  I 
acknowledge  to  have  felt  at  the  intelligence,  I  afford  an  evidence  of 
the  selfishness  which  must  accompany  an  actor's  professional  career. 
If  he  is  idle,  he  feels  he  is,  or  fears  to  be  lost  sight  of,  and  his  income 
suffers  in  the  exaltation  of  those  who  "  push  him  from  his  stool "  — 
"  The  present  eye  praises  the  present  object."  I  say  this  without  any 
spleen,  merely  wishing  it  were  otherwise,  which  perhaps  ere  long  it 
may  be. 

llth.  —  At  Dr.  Spurgin's  met  a  party  of  seventeen  and  spent  a 

very  pleasant  day  :  the  only  name  I  caught  was  Mr. ,  the  author  ; 

he  is  agreeable  but  too  conscious  of  being  somebody,  and  I  write  this 
observation  reluctantly,  because  he  seemed  desirous  of  being  pleased 
with  me.  Why  is  it  that  in  society  I  so  often  have  the  pleasure  of 
receiving  marked  attention  and  particular  courtesy,  and  that  my  ac- 
quaintance is  so  little  sought,  —  so  little,  as  to  make  me  think  myself 
either  disagreeable  in  manner  or  dull  in  conversation  ?  Mr. fol- 
lowed me  and  requested  my  acquaintance. 

Canterbury,  January  15th.  —  After  rehearsal  walked  up  to  the  Ca- 
thedral to  learn  my  way  there,  and  was  taken  by  Mr.  Dowton  to  the 
Philosophical  Institution,  where  he  had  been  giving  a  short  course  of 
lectures  on  Phrenology.  The  building  is  very  neat ;  the  Museum  a 
very  pretty  beginning,  and  its  purpose  most  pleasing  to  those  who 
wish  well  to  human  nature.  Came  to  my  hotel  (the  Lion)  and  wrote 
to  Catherine  :  acted  Macbeth  in  a  very  inferior  manner ;  there  was 
scarcely  even  reality,  and  very  often  positive  affectation.  A  total  ab- 
sence of  that  directness  of  look,  voice,  and  attitude,  that  tells  to  the 
actor  far  more  truly  than  the  thunders  of  an  audience  that  he  is  pos- 
sessed with  his  part  and  must  bear  his  hearers  with  him.  It  is  cer- 
tain (I  do  not  write  it  in  extenuation  of  my  own  faults)  that  some  of 
the  actors  were  so  attired,  and  others  so  inaccurate,  that  my  morning's 
resolution  was  blown  to  Heaven,  or  worse.  When  the  murderers 
came  on,  one  was  dressed  up  in  an  old  tattered  cloak  wrapt  around 
him,  no  bad  garb  for  Edgar  as  Mad  Tom.  I  could  not  look  at  the 
audience,  and  was  obliged  to  slur  the  scene,  at  any  rate  my  nerves 
quite  failed  me.  I  feel  ashamed  of  the  professional  relationship  be- 
tween us,  I  cannot  subdue  it ;  and  money  is  bought  dearly  by  the  pain 
I  suffer  under  operations  of  this  sort. 

1 6th.  —  Acted  lago  very  indifferently,  indeed  the  habit  of  scowling 
or  looking  from  under  my  brows,  especially  when  an  audience  is  close 
upon  me,  as  in  a  small  theater,  is  a  direct  prevention  to  good  acting. 
I  wanted  reality  and  directness,  indeed,  a  revision  of  the  execution  of 
the  character,  and  strict  attention  to  my  general  style. 

London,  February  Qlh.  —  Called  on  Chantrey,  and,  after  a  long  and 


1834.  CHANTREY.  297 

very  pleasant  conversation,  left  him  to  proceed  on  his  recommendation 
to  endeavor  to  influence  individually  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  West- 
minster to  remit  the  fees  for  a  monument  to  Mrs.  Siddons.  He  ques- 
tioned us  on  our  views  of  the  description  of  monument,  in  which  we 
were  disposed  to  defer  to  his  judgment.  He  observed  that  such  a 
record  of  a  great  and  interesting  person  should  afford  posterity  the 
means  of  knowing  and  feeling  something  of  the  character  of  the  indi- 
viduals through  a  portrait  which  would  impart  some  sentiment  in  its 
elevated  expression,  and  that  could  only  be  done  by  a  high  relief,  a 
bust,  or  a  statue.  As  to  any  allegorical  device  he  was  toto  caeh  op- 
posed to  it.  He  referred  to  his  communication  with  the  committee  for 
Wilberforce's  monument,  who  had  voted  £500  for  that  purpose,  quite 
forgetting  the  fees,  nearly  half  that  sum,  to  the  Dean  and  Chapter. 
Chantrey  read  his  letters  to  Gaily  Knight,  in  which  he  recommended, 
upon  the  hospital,  college,  or  whatever  the  subscription  should  be  ap- 
propriated to  a  slab  inscribed  with  Wilberforce's  name  and  claims  to 
the  honor  of  giving  a  title  to  such  an  institution,  but  deprecating  any 
paltry  record  in  Westminster  Abbey,  where  it  would  teach  no  lesson 
and  attract  no  attention ;  or,  if  any  monument  were  placed  there,  he 
advised  a  statue,  concealing  his  deformity,  but  bearing  in  its  expres- 
sion indications  of  those  great  qualities  which  had  distinguished  him. 
If  desirable,  let  there  be  a  bas-relief  upon  his  pedestal  representing  his 
giving  freedom  to  the  negroes.  He  denounced  allegory  without  reser- 
vation ;  take  the  wings  from  Victory  and  what  is  she  ?  In  young 
Bacon's  monument  of  Sir  John  Moore,  he  told  us,  a  stout  fellow  repre- 
senting Valor  was  lowering  the  feet  of  the  dead  hero,  and  a  winged 
Victory  letting  down  by  a  wreath  under  the  arms  the  body  into  the 
grave  ;  i.  e.,  Valor  and  Victory  burying  Sir  John  Moore.  When  Valor 
is  represented  digging  a  grave,  put  him  on  a  soldier's  jacket,  and  he 
becomes  a  pioneer.  His  account  of  his  employment  by.  the  Committee 
of  Taste  showed  what  such  committees  are,  yet  Sir  George  Beaumont 
was  on  this  referred  to,  but  had  honesty  enough  eventually  to  confess 
himself  in  error.  Chantrey  never  would  send  in  a  sketch,  or  submit 
to  their  criticism.  He  would  not  allegorize  and  therefore  he  was  vul- 
gar and  unpoetical.  •  I  asked  him  if  he  did  not  value  highly,  in  com- 
parison with  himself,  his  statue  of  Washington  ?  he  said  he  did,  and  I 
observed  to  him  how  strongly  the  simple  dignity  of  the  figure,  and  the 
happy  union  of  the  military  and  civil  characters  had  impressed  them- 
selves on  my  memory.  He  said  that  he  had  been  most  anxious  about 
it,  and  as  the  order  had  been  transmitted  to  him  through  Mr.  West  he 
thought  it  only  a  due  compliment  to  him,  as  an  American  and  Presi- 
dent of  our  Academy,  to  consult  him  upon  it.  In  consequence,  he 
called  on  him  and  requested  that  he  would  sketch  a  design  for  the 
statue.  West  promised  that  he  would.  Six  years  elapsed,  during 
which  Chantrey  had  often  urged  and  as  often  been  answered  by  the 
old  man,  that  "  he  was  thinking  of  it  —  that  it  was  a  difficult  subject." 
At  last,  having  heard  that  he  was  ill,  Chantrey  went,  determined  to 
press  him  upon  the  subject.  He  found  him  so  much  weakened,  that 


21»8  AIACREADTS  DIARIES.  1834. 

he  evidently  had  not  a  fortnight  to  live,  and  yet  the  old  man  was  in- 
dulging in  dreamy  hopes  and  intentions  of  completing  pictures  on  a 
scale  far  beyond  anything  he  had  ever  yet  attempted.  Chantrey 
pressed  him  on  the  design  for  Washington's  statue.  "  Why,  sir,  I  am 
thinking  of  it ;  I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about  it,  but  it  is  very  dif- 
ficult." Chantrey  clearly  perceiving  this  to  be  the  last  opportunity  he 
should  ever  have  of  learning  his  views,  requested  some  intimation  of 
the  idea  that  had  presented  itself  to  him.  "  Why,  sir,"  said  West,  "  I 
intended  representing  him  with  one  hand  laying  down  the  sword,  and 
with  the  other  taking  up  the  plowshare."  "  This  satisfied  me,"  said 
Chantrey,  "  as  to  my  hopes  of  assistance  from  him ;  and  six  days  after 
I  left  him  I  heard  of  his  death." 

The  impossibility  of  distinguishing  which  hand  was  in  the  act  of 
laying  down  and  which  of  taking  up  was  directly  apparent ;  but  Chan- 
trey gave  an  instance  of  it,  which  I  do  not  wish  to  forget.  Home 
Tooke,  with  whom  he  was  on  terms  of  intimacy,  told  him  that  when 
his  book,  the  "  Diversions  of  Purley,"  was  coming  out,  Cipriani  of- 
fered to  make  the  design  for  a  frontispiece,  and  Bartolozzi  to  engrave 
it ;  Home  Tooke  accepting  the  offers,  mentioned  the  subject  he  wished 

—  Mercury  putting  off  his  winged  sandals.     The  piece  was  completed 
and  sent  to  Home  Tooke,  who  could  not  distinguish  the  precise  action 
of  the  figure,  who,  instead  of  taking  off,  seemed  to  him  to  be  putting 
his  sandals  on. 

I  questioned  him  on  the  applicability  of  sculpture  to  subjects  of  such 
extent  as  precluded  the  power  of  taking  in  the  whole  at  a  coup  d'ceiJ, 
in  reference  to  Lough's  group  of  the  Centaurs  and  Lapithae.  He  at 
once  pronounced  against  it,  or  against  more  than  one  figure  except 
where  combination  is  necessary  to  explain  and  strengthen  the  senti- 
ment of  part.  He  instanced  the  Niobe,  and,  our  conversation  rambling 
to  the  Laocoon,  an  exception  to  the  general  rule  against  action  in 
statues  laid  down  by  Chantrey,  he  called  on  us  to  note  that  the  atti- 
tude of  the  Laocoon,  though  one  of  active  and  agonizing  pain,  was  still 
one  of  ease,  and  sitting  down  he  threw  himself  into  the  attitude  of  a 
man  yawning,  which  exactly  corresponded  with  the  figure  of  the  La- 
ocoon before  us. 

Went  to  Mr.  Warren's  —  met  two  or  three  pretty,  agreeable 
women.  Mr.  Holt,1  Bencher,  Mr.  Malins,2  Perry,8  Smith,  who  had 
just  published  a  tragedy,  Dr.  Spurgin  and  Others,  not  omitting  a  very 
interesting  man,  Mr.  Walpole,4  who  came  in  after  dinner.  Mr.  Holt 
introduced  a  discussion  of  Homer  and  Greek  during  dinner,  which 
drew  a  common  line  of  Homer  from  me,  and  gained  me  very  unde- 
served credit  for  my  general  knowledge  of  the  poet.  A  long  discussion 

1  Francis  Ludlow  Holt,  of  the  Northern  circuit,  and  Vice-Chancel)  or  of  the  Duchy 
of  Lancaster.  —  ED. 

3  Afterwards  M.  P.  for  Wallingford  and  now  a  Vice-Chancellor.  —  ED. 

8  Fellow  of  Jesus  College,  Cambridge,  and  ibr  some  time  Principal  Secretary  to 
Lord  Lyndhurst,  when  Chancellor. —  KD. 

4  The  Eight  Honorable  Spencer  Wnlpolc,  M.  P.  for  Cambridge  University. 

—  ED. 


1834.  SHEIL  AND  O'CONNELL.  299 

on  religion,  in  which  I  was  opposed  by  all  the  remaining  party,  kept 
me  there  till  half-past  one,  as  I  did  not  choose  to  leave  my  character 
behind  me.  I  walked  home  with  Mr.  Walpole,  whom  I  liked  much. 

February  7th.  —  Called  on  Wallace l  to  learn  his  feeling  on  Sheil's 
affair.  He  was  in  the  House  on*  Wednesday  night,  and  told  me  that 
Sheil  behaved  well ;  that  he  had  seen  him  on  the  previous  day,  dis- 
suaded him  from  allowing  O'Connell  to  interfere,  and  gained  his  as- 
surance that  he  would  stand  forward  and  vindicate  himself;  at  the 
same  time  Wallace  turned  him  from  his  first  intention  of  speaking  on 
the  address.  All  this  good  counsel  was  neutralized  by  Sheil's  want  of 
firmness  and  judgment  to  resist  the  offer  of  O'Connell's  interference, 
and  Wallace's  plan  was  abandoned  for  the  less  direct  one  of  O'Con- 
nell's leading.  Nothing  could  be  more  frank  than  the  testimony  Wal- 
lace bore  to  the  unaffected  cheerfulness  with  which  Sheil  consented  to 
place  himself  in  his  hands,  and  go  to  any  necessary  extremities.  I 
was  greatly  relieved  by  this,  and  in  hearing  Wallace's  confident  ex- 
pectation that  he  would  come  triumphantly  out  of  the  inquiry.  At 
Warren's  yesterday  he  was  spoken  of  more  respectfully  than  I  had 
anticipated,  but  my  own  anxiety  for  him  blinded  me  to  his  actual  posi- 
tion. Wallace  said  that  the  two  men  who  showed  the  most  generous 
and  friendly  spirit  to  Sheil  were  Sir  H.  Hardinge  and  Sir  Robert 
Peel. 

8th.  —  Thought  over  the  most  likely  among  my  plays  to  be  attract- 
ive in  the  country,  and  wrote  to  Calcraft  and  Clarke  applying  to  both 
of  them  in  behalf  of  Mrs.  Fosbrooke.  Read  Mr.  Pemberton's  criti- 
cism on  my  performance  of  King  John,  which  is  certainly,  in  reference 
to  that  particular  representation,  if  not  generally,  too  eulogistic ;  his 
exception  to  the  early  part  of  the  first  scene  with  Hubert,  as  being  ex- 
pressive of  physical  terror,  was  very  just.  Planted  four  trees  on  the 
lawn,  which  I  fear  will  not  long  outlive  their  settlement.  Read  the 
preface  to  Nicolas's  "  Chronology  of  History,"  which  opened  my  eyes 
to  some  important  principles  of  that  science.  Walked  round  the  gar- 
den playing  with  my  dear  children.  Mrs.  Chalk  and  her  mother 
called,  and  sat  some  time.  Mrs.  Chalk  applied  to  us  respecting  the 
clothing  fund,  to  which  we  of  course  assented. 

13th.  —  On  going  to  my  study  I  looked  over  the  towns  that  seemed 
likely  to  afford  me  employment  in  the  summer,  and  thought  over  some 
plans  for  profit  which  do  not  promise  much  ;  one  was  the  Birmingham 
Theater,  but  the  recollection  of  this  being  the  oratorio  year,  and  the 
opening  of  the  new  Town  Hall,  obliges  me  to  lay  aside  any  further 
thought  on  the  subject.  In  looking  at  the  "  Edinburgh  Review  "  the 

name  of  S arrested  me,  and  I  was  lead  into  an  inquisition  on  the 

cause  of  my  dislike  to  that  man.  It  is  very  much  owing  to  his  pert- 
ness  and  petulance,  something  to  the  quality  which  is  the  theme  of 
praise  in  the  review,  his  skill  in  debate,  which  argues  subtlety  and  dis- 
ingenuousness,  such  as  I  have  more  than  once  noted  in  him.  It  also 

1  Mr.  Wallace  was  a  well-known  contributor  to  the  London  press.  He  wrote 
part  of  the  History  of  England  in  Lardner's  "  Cyclopedia."  —  ED. 


300  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1834. 

occurred  to  me  to  ask  how  far  it  may  be  referable  to  that  envious  im- 
patience of  others'  progress  in  life  when  we  feel  ourselves  stationary  ? 
I  would  not  deny  the  existence  of  such  an  unbecoming  motive,  but  I 
should  deprive  myself  by  such  confidence  of  the  powers  of  eradicat- 
ing what  I  utterly  condemn.  Read  Review  (Edin.)  of  Miss  Aikin's 
"  Memoirs  of  Charles  I."  We  may  be  mistaken  in  our  ideas  of  that 
man's  belief  of  his  prerogative's  extent ;  we  can  have  no  doubt  of  his 
barbarity,  injustice,  and  treachery.  What  horrid  blasphemy  is  the  form 
of  prayer  on  his  martyrdom !  Read  two  party  reviews  against  the 
Tories,  which  were  too  manifestly  Whiggish  to  interest  one  who  would 
despise  any  distinctions  but  those  of  right  and  wrong. 

l±th.  —  My  valentine  was  Mr.  Bartley,  whose  letter  communicated 
to  me  the  reluctance  of  the  actors  to  join  in  giving  a  dinner  and  testi- 
monial to  poor  old  Dowton.  For  myself  this  resolution  takes  much 
care  from  me,  and  renders  to  me  time  which  I  want.  So  be  it.  An- 
swered Mr.  Bartley's  note  in  a  civil  and  regretful  strain,  and  really  I 
felt  regret  at  the  loss  of  an  occasion  to  gladden  the  declining  years  of 
a  meritorious  actor  by  an  acknowledgment  from  his  profession  of  his 
worth  and  talent,  and  at  the  obligation  pressed  upon  me  of  thinking 
less  kindly  of  the  members  of  my  unfortunate  profession.  I  took  up 
Miss  Austen's  novel  of  "  Emma,"  which  engrossed  my  attention  the 
whole  evening. 

15th.  —  Finished  Miss  Austen's  "  Emma,"  which  amused  me  very 
much,  impressing  me  with  a  high  opinion  of  her  powers  of  drawing 
and  sustaining  character,  though  not  satisfying  me  always  with  the  end 
and  aim  of  her  labors.  She  is  successful  in  painting  the  ridiculous  to 
the  life,  and  while  she  makes  demands  on  our  patience  for  the  almost 
intolerable  absurdities  and  tediousness  of  her  well-meaning  gossips,  she 
does  not  recompense  us  for  what  we  suffer  from  her  conceited  and 
arrogant  nuisances  by  making  their  vices  their  punishments.  We  are 
not  much  better,  but  perhaps  a  little  more  prudent  for  her  writings. 
She  does  not  probe  the  vices,  but  lays  bare  the  weaknesses  of  character ; 
the  blemish  on  the  skin,  and  not  the  corruption  at  the  heart,  is  what 
she  examines.  Mrs.  Brunton's  books  have  a  far  higher  aim  ;  they  try 
to  make  us  better,  and  it  is  an  addition  to  previous  faults  if  they  do 
not.  The  necessity,  the  comfort,  and  the  elevating  influence  of  piety 
is  continually  inculcated  throughout  her  works  —  which  never  appear 
in  Miss  Austen's. 

2-ith,  —  A  letter  arrived  from  Kenney,  stating  his  having  heard  of  my 
wish  to  belong  to  the  Athenaeum,  and  that  if  it  were  so,  he  thought  it 
might  be  accomplished,  requesting  me  at  the  same  time  to  keep  his 
communication  a  secret.  I  answered  it,  thankfully  accepting  his  good 
offices  if  they  could  procure  me  admission  without  a  ballot1  The  whole 

1  The  name  appears  in  the  Candidate's  Book  of  the  Athenaeum  Club,  under 
date  of  February  28th,  1834:  "No.  1029.  W.  C.  Macready.  Proposed  by  James 
Kenney,  seconded  by  Charles  Mayne  Young."  Macready  was  elected  by  the 
Committee  on  June  21st,  1838,  when  forty  members,  to  be  so  elected,  were  added 
to  the  club  by  a  vote  of  the  Annual  Meeting  held  in  May  of  that  year.  —  ED. 


1834.  AN  UNFORTUNATE  DISCLOSURE.  301 

of  the  afternoon  was  occupied  without  intermission  in  replacing  my 
books  in  the  study.  After  dinner  I  began  Pope's  preface  to  his  "  Ho- 
mer," but  desisted  from  it  to  read  Fox's  speech  on  the  law  of  libel, 
which  is  clear  reasoning  and  I  think  demonstrative  in  its  effect. 

2Qth.  —  A  note  also  from  Kenney,  explanatory  of  the  mode  of  get- 
ting me  into  the  Athenaeum,  by  naming  me  as  a  candidate  for  a  yearly 
nomination.  I  answered  it. 

Dublin,  March  3d.  —  JEt.  40.  Went  to  the  theatre  and,  owing  to 
an  irregularity  in  the  clocks,  was  pressed  for  time  in  dressing,  which 
quite  threw  me  from  my  center.  Between  the  first  and  second  scenes 
("  Virginius  ")  a  ludicrous  accident  tended  to  increase  my  nervousness, 
but  in  the  second  act  I  laid  my  fangs  upon  the  audience,  and  in  the 
third  bore  them  along  with  me  to  the  end.  I  acted  most  of  the  play 
with  real  force  and  truth.  The  audience  called  for  me,  and  seemed 
pleased  in  applauding  me. 

13th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  and  toiled  through  "Hamlet"  to  an 
audience  which  I  felt,  or  thought  I  felt,  I  amused,  but  too  poor  to  af- 
ford the  quantity  of  applause  necessary  to  sustain  one  through  such  a 
character.  I  did  much  well,  and  heard  several  half-suppressed  attes- 
tations of  the  pleasure  I  imparted,  but  I  was  quite  knocked  up.  When 
I  have  a  part  like  Hamlet  to  play  my  whole  day  is  absorbed  by  it.  I 
can-not  give  my  thoughts  to  any  other  subject,  and  am  obliged  to  con- 
tent myself  with  thinking  I  am  earning  my  daily  bread. 

18th.  —  I  acted  Werner  languidly.  A  circumstance  in  the  play 
amused  me  a  good  deal,  and  at  my  own  expense.  I  was  inconvenienced 
and  rather  annoyed  by  Ulric  looking  on  the  ground,  or  anywhere  but 
in  my  face,  as  he  should  have  done  ;  my  displeasure  however  vanished 
on  seeing  the  tears  fast  trickling  down  his  cheek,  and,  forgiving  his 
inaccuracy  on  the  score  of  his  sensibility,  I  continued  the  scene  with 
augmented  energy  and  feeling,  and  left  it  with  a  very  favorable  impres- 
sion of  the  young  man's  judgment  and  warm-heartedness.  In  the 
course  of  the  play  he  accosted  me,  begging  my  pardon  for  his  apparent 
inattention  to  me,  and  explaining  the  cause,  viz.,  that  he  had  painted 
his  face  so  high  on  the  cheek,  that  the  color  had  got  into  his  eyes, 
and  kept  them  running  during  the  whole  act.  What  an  unfortunate 
disclosure  ! 

Manchester,  March  22c?.  —  Rehearsed  "  Coriolanus  "  and  the  last  act 
of  "  The  Critic."  When  dressed  I  scarcely  knew  how  I  should  get 
through  the  work  before  me,  and  thought  of  the  peculiarity  of  this  pro- 
fession, which  obliges  the  sickly  frame  to  dilate  itself  with  heroic  en- 
ergy and  the  man  of  sorrows  to  affect  an  immoderate  buoyancy  of 
spirits,  whilst  perhaps  his  heart  is  breaking.  I  was  most  attentive  to 
the  necessity  of  subduing  my  voice,  and  letting  the  passion  rather  than 
the  lungs  awaken  the  audience.  In  consequence  I  acted  well.  It  is 
there  I  fail  when  I  allow  my  tongue  and  action  to  anticipate  my 
thought.  I  cannot  bear  this  too  strongly  in  mind.  Puff  I  managed 
with  tolerable  vivacity  and  earnestness,  and  the  audience  were  evidently 
disposed  to  be  pleased  with  me.  Clarke  paid  me  £9 1  odd  for  the  week, 
which  made  me  think  most  gratefully  of  the  good  I  receive. 


302  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1834. 

Ifarrogate,  March  23 :1.  —  On  walking  across  the  common  at  II:im>- 
gate  to  my  house,  the  Granby,  I  thought  how  exultingly  I  had  first 
entered  it,  and  how  blindly  and  unresistingly  I  had  been  led  into  the 
purchase  of  it. 

London,  April  \Qth.  —  Read  " Sardanapalus "  through.  Went  to  the 
theater,  and  rehearsed  it.  Came  to  my  chambers  very  much  fatigued, 
and  ordered  a  mutton-chop  there.  After  dining  I  lay  down  in  bed  for 
an  hour.  Very  reluctantly  I  rose  to  go  to  the  theater,  feeling  my 
spirits  and  strength  much  exhausted.  The  play  began  —  and  I  acted 
much  better  than  from  my  over-labored  spirits  and  strength  I  could 
have  expected.  I  was  self-possessed,  and  often  very  real ;  the  audi- 
ence were  quite  prepared  to  applaud  whatever  could  be  interpreted  as 
deserving  notice,  and  my  spirits  rose  to  meet  their  indulgence.  In  the 
fifth  act  I  cut  a  small  artery  in  my  thumb  against  Mr.  Cooper's  dress, 
which  bedabbled  my  whole  dress  as  well  as  Mr.  Cooper's  and  Ellen 
Tree's,  flowing  profusely  at  times,  and  then  spurting  out  like  a  spring 
of  water.  Was  called  for  by  the  audience,  but  was  ignorant  that  no 
one  had  been  sent  on,  or  I  would  not  have  gone  forward ;  in  the 
erroneous  belief  that  Mr.  King  had  been  on,  whom  I  heard  desired  to 
"  give  out,"  I  led  Ellen  Tree  forward  amid  much  applause.  Returned 
in  the  carriage  to  Elstree.  Went  to  bed  quite  exhausted. 

\\th.  —  Took  a  chaise  to  town,  for  I  felt  quite  unequal  to  walk  to 
Edgware ;  on  the  road  went  over  "  Sardanapalus."  On  arriving  at 
my  chambers,  which  I  did  in  very  good  time,  I  found  a  letter  without 
signature ;  the  seal  was  the  head  of  Byron,  and  in  the  envelope  was 
a  folded  sheet  with  merely  the  words  "Werner,  Nov.  1830.  Byron, 
Ravenna,  1821,"  and  "  Sardanapalus,  April  10th,  1834."  Encircling 
the  name  of  Byron,  etc.,  was  a  lock  of  gray  hair  fastened  by  a  gold 
thread,  which  I  am  sure  was  Byron's,  and  which  I  have  no  doubt  was 
sent  to  me  by  his  sister,  Mrs.  Leigh  :  it  surprised  and  pleased  me.  I 
went  to  the  Garrick  Club  to  read  the  newspapers,  which  were  all  very 
favorable  to  me,  and  to  dine  —  saw  Collier,  Taylor,  Bartley,  and  sev- 
eral others.  I  fear  I  carried  the  effort  at  modesty,  which  the  pride  of 
success  puts  on,  upon  my  deportment,  but  it  was  against  my  will  if  it 
w:is  so.  On  my  way  there  Kenny  called  to  me,  congratulated  me  on 
Werner,  and  acquainted  me  with  the  circumstances  of  the  introduction 
of  my  name  at  the  Athenaeum  —  that  if  not  elected  this  year  I  should 
be  next,  or  if  driven  to  a  ballot  (to  which  I  would  not  consent  to  go) 
I  should  be  sure  of  success.  Came  here  very  much  tired  —  tried  to 
read  "  Sardanapalus."  Went  to  the  theater,  and  acted  very  feebly  — 
every  one  seemed  unstrung  and  languid  from  the  effects  of  the  pre- 
ceding evening. 

12th.  —  Forster  came  in,  bringing  for  Catherine  extracts,  cut  out  by 
him,  from  all  the  papers,  on  "  Sardanapalus."  When  he  had  left  me, 
I  read  over  "  Sardanapalus,"  and  went  to  the  theater.  I  acted  with 
considerable  spirit,  and  much  more  effectively  than  last  night  —  still  I 
think  the  play  will  not  be  attractive. 

Sunday,  April  13th.  —  Went  to  afternoon  service  —  was  struck  with 


1834.  SHAKESPEARE'S  BIRTHDAY.  303 

the  second  lesson,  the  second  chapter  of  the  General  Epistle  of  James. 
How  clergymen  can  read  that  chapter  from  the  pulpit  and  pay  the 
homage  they  do  to  wealth  and  power,  and  call  themselves  ministers  of 
Christ's  religion  they  best  know :  to  me  their  conduct  is  a  reason  for 
their  unpopularity.  Walked  round  the  garden,  which  is  always  a 
pleasure  to  me.  Played  with  my  darling  children  while  dressing  for 
dinner.  Head  prayers  to  the  family,  and  felt  truly  grateful  to  God 
for  His  great  and  many  blessings. 

1 6^.  —  I  looked  into  Crabbe's  life.  Lay  down  for  about  half  an 
hour  and  read  part  of  "  Sardanapalus."  I  acted,  I  know  not  how  ;  I 
went  prepared  and  anxious  to  play  well,  but  I  cannot  work  myself  into 
reality  in  this  part  —  I  have  not  freedom  enough  to  satisfy  myself. 
Miss  Tree  and  self  nearly  singed  in  the  last  scene. 

17th.  —  Read  "Sardanapalus."  Acted  it  with  much  more  spirit  in 
the  four  first  acts  than  heretofore,  but  did  not  satisfy  myself  in  many 
things  in  Act  5  —  my  manner  was  too  constrained.  I  wanted  reality. 
Mr.  Bunn  asked  me  if  I  would  act  Joseph  Surface  on  the  King's  com- 
mand. I  declined ;  I  am  out  of  the  character,  and  it  is  tempting 
further  solicitation  voluntarily  to  commit  myself  to  it  again.  The 
King  cares  for  neither  the  play,  nor  the  actors,  nor  their  art,  and  I  see 
no  reason  why  I  should  inconvenience  myself  for  him. 

23d.  —  Shakespeare's  birthday.  Acted  "  Sardanapalus."  After  the 
play,  dressed,  and  went  to  the  Garrick  Club,  where  I  took  coffee,  and 
was  looking  at  the  "  Quarterly  Review "  on  the  "  Modern  French 
Drama,"  when  I  was  joined  by  Talfourd,  Forster,  White,  and  others. 
I  found  our  private  supper,  which  was  to  have  consisted  of  eight  or 
ten,  swelled  into  a  greater  number,  and  many  of  the  guests  strangers 
to  me.  Talfourd  was  placed  in  the  Chair,  and  in  the  course  of  the 
evening  made  some  very  good  speeches.  My  health  was  the  third 
toast  from  the  Chair,  and  toasting,  as  applied  to  me,  such  a  compli- 
ment may  well  be  called,  for  I  curl  and  shrink  under  the  operation  as 
much  as  if  I  underwent  literally  the  process  of  being  brought  to  the 
stake.  Under  the  fervency  of  Talfourd's  panegyric  I  might  employ 
Shakespeare's  words,  "  Beneath  this  fire  do  I  shrink  up."  I  met  Mr. 
Hayward,  to  whom  I  was  introduced,  and  who  gave  me  his  card, 
promising  to  send  me  his  translation  of  "  Faust."  It  was  to  me  a  very 
pleasant  evening.  Reached  home  quarter-past  three. 

24th.  —  Looked  into  the  "  Foscari"  of  Byron.  I  am  of  opinion  that 
it  is  not  dramatic  —  the  slow,  almost  imperceptible  progress  of  the 
action,  and  the  strain  required  from  our  belief  to  sympathize  with  the 
love  of  home  in  Jacopo,  will  prevent,  I  think,  its  success  in  represen- 
tation. I  was  interested  by  the  coincidence  of  two  men's  fortunes' 
depending  on  a  casualty  to  which  they  voluntarily  submitted  the 
course  of  their  destinies.  Robert  Bruce  hung  the  determination  of 
his  future  course  upon  the  strength  of  a  spidei-'s  web  ;  and  Francisco 
Sforza  threw  the  future  chances  of  his  life  with  his  mattock  upon  an 
oak  :  when  asked  to  enlist,  "  Let  me  throw  my  mattock  upon  that 
oak,"  he  said,  "  if  it  remains  there  I.  will."  It  remained,  and  he  en- 
listed, from  a  peasant  becoming  soldier,  general,  prince. 


304  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1834. 

May  %d.  —  Hurried  out  to  my  appointment  at  Canning's  statue  with 
Fladgate  at  twelve ;  met  him  there  and  called  with  him  on  Dr.  Ire- 
land, the  Dean  of  Westminster,  on  the  subject  of  the  fees  for  Mrs. 
Siddons's  monument ;  found  him  a  very  gentlemanly  and  pleasant 
person ;  he  promised  to  send  me  an  account  of  the  expense,  which 
should  be  as  low  as  he  could  make  it.  On  leaving  him,  we  went  over 
Westminster  Abbey,  and  I  saw  the  sorry  affair  they  have  placed  to 
Kemble.  What  a  contrast  to  that  living  piece  of  marble  that  keeps 
forever  alive  the  person  and  personal  character  of  Horner  by  Chan- 
trey. 

3d.  —  Some  doubts  which  rose  in  my  mind  on  the  propriety  of 
trying  Lear  were  overruled  by  the  seeming  necessity  of  making  some 
effort,  and  also  of  not  leaving  a  character  now  not  performed  for 

three  or  four  seasons,  to  the  chance  of  an  actor  like .  This 

weighed  strongly  with  me.  Acted  Sardanapalus  as  if  a  millstone 
were  about  my  neck  —  I  could  not  divest  myself  of  the  weary  sen- 
sations I  felt.  Read  an  anonymous  letter  about  my  shabby  dress  — 
well  deserved.  Came  home  :  headache  and  fatigue.  Sat  down  to 
proceed  with  Lear,  of  which  I  marked  a  great  deal. 

4th.  —  I  settled  my  accounts,  and  set  at  once  to  work  on  the  cut- 
ting, and  then  marking  fairly  the  copy  of  Lear,  a  task  to  which  I 
assigned  about  two  hours,  which  had  cost  me  seven  or  eight :  I  have 
finished  it  and  I  humbly  hope  for  a  blessing  on  my  work.  Made  it 
in  a  parcel  for  Cooper  and  sent  it  to  him.  Dressed  and  went  out  to 
dine  with  Hayward. 

5th.  —  I  awoke  very  early  this  morning  with  the  heat  of  the  atmos- 
phere, and  my  own  excited  system ;  was  kept  awake  by  a  sort  of 
horror  that  possessed  me  on  thinking  that  tapis  was  a  Latin  word, 
and  that  I  had  used  it  as  a  French  one.  It  is  ludicrous  to  remember 
how  much  I  suffered  from  this  fancy,  and  how  my  silly  pride  at- 
tempted to  set  me  at  ease.  I  could  not  sleep,  so  read  over  some 
observations  I  had  written  for  Catherine  on  Burke's  "  Sublime,"  and 
some  of  the  thirteenth  book  of  the  "  Iliad."  Went  to  Colnaghi's  — 
looked  at  costume.  Fixed  on  Lear's  dress. 

6</i.  —  Thought  on  Lear  as  I  waited  for  the  coach,  and  came  pleas- 
antly on  the  outside  to  Elstree,  where  I  found  the  trees  in  full  leaf, 
as  if  magic  had  been  at  work  on  our  little  domain  ;  my  beloved  fam- 
ily all  well.  Walked  round  the  garden  with  a  feeling  of  its  quiet 
and  comfort  that  will  not  bear  translation.  After  breakfast  resumed 
my  promenade,  and  afterwards  noted  down  some  memoranda  and 
decided  on  Lear's  dress,  etc.  Looked  through  prints  for  a  head, 
but  found  none  affording  more  information  than  I  already  pos- 
sessed. 

1th.  —  Went  to  the  theater.  Desperate  as  to  my  prospect  of  get- 
ting through  the  play,  but  by  acting  with  collectedness  and  presence 
of  mind,  and  imposing  earnestness  through  the  performance,  I  made 
a  much  better  Macbeth  than  I  could  have  calculated  upon.  I  was 
more  than  ordinarily  fortunate  in  the  soliloquy  upon  the  commission 


1834.  BENEFIT— LEAR.  305 

of  the  murder,  and  upon  the  death  of  the  queen,  also  with  the  mur- 
derers. My  reception  of  the  news  of  Birnam  Wood  was  correct, 
but  my  last  scene  was  marred  by  my  antagonist.  Altogether  I  got 
through  well  enough  to  have  satisfied  myself,  and  so  well  that  I  do 
not  conceive  I  have  any  excuse  left  for  the  ill-temper  I  manifested 

towards  two  persons,  Mr. and  Mrs. ,  whom  I  ought   not 

to  have  noticed  except  in  a  kindly  spirit.  I  hope  to  amend  this 
foolish,  undeniable  fault. 

8th.  —  Forster  called  and  accompanied  me  to  Oxford  Street ;  at 
Tavener's  I  selected  the  materials  for  my  dress,  and  at  Major's  chose 
the  fur,  ordered  belt  and  fillet  at  Gass's,  bought  gloves  at  Evering- 
ham's.  Went  to  Garrick  Club,  where  I  dined. 

10th.  —  Wrote  a  French  note  (which  tasked  my  memory)  to  Grisi, 
inquiring  her  charge  for  a  song,  and  went  to  rehearsal  of  "  Lear." 
Returning  to  chambers,  wrote  another  French  note  to  Paganini  on 
the  same  subject  as  to  Grisi.  Wrote  a  note  on  benefit  matters  to 
Madame  Vestris,  who  unluckily  is  on  the  Continent.  Acted  Sardan- 
apalus  pretty  well  to  a  miserable  house  —  two  persons  in  the  second 
gallery  at  the  opening  !  From  the  fre'quent  and  almost  uninterrupted 
repetition  of  this  play  I  feel  myself  relapsing  into  my  old  habitual 
sin  of  striving  for  effect  by  dint  of  muscular  exertion,  and  not  re- 
straining my  body,  while  my  face  and  voice  alone  are  allowed  to  act. 
It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  be  on  my  guard  against  this  vicious 
habit.  Came  home  under  a  beautiful  starlight  night  which  reminded 
me  of  the  sweet  nights  I  have  traveled  in  Italy.  Came  home  in  an 
hour  and  a  half,  and  found  Letitia  sitting  up  for  me. 

Elstree,  Sunday,  May  18th.  —  Read  prayers  to  the  family,  and  after- 
wards read  over  the  latter  part  of  "  Lear,"  which  requires  both  more 
practice  and  thought  than  I  shall  have  time  to  give.  I  must  husband 
what  is  left  to  me,  and  trust  to  the  goodness  which  has  hitherto  be- 
friended me  to  strengthen  and  assist  me  in  this  important  trial. 

London,  May  20th.  —  Messrs.  Twinings,  the  most  gentlemanly  mer- 
chants in  London,  sent  to  me  for  tickets,  as  did  Mr.  Gass,  receiving 
the  order  for  the  alteration  of  the  zone  for  Lear.  Went  to  the  theater 
about  my  dress,  which  was,  as  usual,  deferred.  Called  at  Garrick 
Club,  where  I  looked  at  newspapers  and  dined  ;  listened  to  some  edi- 
fying conversation  on  dishes  and  dinners ;  and  lounged  away  much 
time  in  the  library  and  drawing-room,  looking  over  Trusler's  Ho- 
garth, opening  some  books  and  turning  over  the  leaves  of  some  period- 
icals. Got  into  conversation  with  Mr.  Barham,  who  came  out  with 
me  and  walked  to  Drury  Lane. 

22d.  —  Letter  from  Mr.  Powell  about  the  Granby,  and  an  invita- 
tion, which  is  very  complimentarily  worded,  but  which  I  do  not  quite 
understand,  from  the  Literary  Fund  Society. 

23d.  —  Benefit.     "  King    Lear,"   first  time,   and    "  Lord    of   the 

Manor."     Rose  in  good  time,  with  the  impression  that  the  day  was 

one  of  serious  results  to  me.     Sent  tickets  to  the  "  Literary  Gazette," 

"  Athenaeum,"  and  "  Sunday  Times  "  ;  I  justified  myself  in  my  exper- 

20 


306  MACREADTS  DIAJilES.  1834. 

iment  in  the  reflection  that,  otherwise,  I  should  leave  unbroken  ground 
to  an  adventurer,  who  might  work  it  to  my  disadvantage.  Rehearsed, 
I  should  say,  exceedingly  well,  giving  great  promise  for  the  night. 
Miss  Kenneth  wishing  to  see  the  play,  and  Cooper's  confidence  in  its 
going  well,  were  all  the  indications  of  approval  I  could  pick  out  from 
the  company.  Arranged  my  dresses,  and  kept  a  strong  check  upon 
myself,  not  permitting  anything  liko  an  ebullition  of  discontent  or 
viglence.  Returned  to  my  chambers ;  settled  all  that  was  necessary 
for  the  night ;  dined  and  went  to  bed  at  ten  minutes  past  two,  giving 
orders  not  to  be  disturbed.  I  could  not  sleep  for  the  state  of  my 
mind  and  the  heat.  I  thought  over  some  of  the  play. 

Went  to  the  theater ;  dressed ;  became  excessively  nervous ;  took 
wine ;  went  on  the  stage  —  as  nervous  as  the  first  night  I  acted  in 
London,  without  the  overbearing  ardor  that  could  free  me  from  the 
thralldom  of  my  fears.  My  performance  in  the  two  first  acts  was  so 
unlike  my  rehearsal  that,  although  I  goaded  myself  to  resistance  by 
suggestions  of  my  own  reputation,  of  my  wife  and  children's  claims 
upon  me,  still  I  sunk  under  the  idea  that  it  was  a  failure.  In  the 
third  act  the  audience  struck  me  as  being  interested  and  attentive,  and 
in  the  fourth  and  fifth  they  broke  out  into  loud  applause  ;  the  last 
scene  went  tamely,  but  I  was  called  for  by  my  friends,  and  went  on, 
was  much  applauded,  and  said  that,  "  Gratified  as  I  was  by  their  ap- 
probation, I  hoped,  when  relieved  from  the  nervousness  of  a  first  ap- 
pearance, to  offer  them  a  representation  more  worthy  their  applause." 

This  is  the  last  of  the  great  characters  of  Shakespeare  that  I  have 
left  unattempted,  and  the  tone  which  the  press  takes  up  on  it  will  ma- 
terially influence  my  after  life.  I  can  put  no  reliance  on  the  partial 
feelings  of  friends,  —  I  do  not  feel  that  I  have  yet  succeeded,  but  it 
is  consoling  to  me  to  believe  that  I  have  not  failed.  Persons  think 
that  we  carry  the  applause  of  the  audience  to  our  pillows,  and  that  the 
sound  still  rings  as  a  delightful  lullaby  in  our  ears.  I  have  no  such 
pleasure.  I  wish  the  night  over  that  I  may  make  up  my  mind  to  the 
impression  diffused  through  the  public  mind. 

26£/<t.  —  Rehearsed  Lear  at  Co  vent  Garden.  I  acted  really  well, 
and  felt  that  my  audience  were  under  my  sway.  I  threw  away  noth- 
ing ;  took  time,  and  yet  gave  force  to  all  that  I  had  to  do  ;  above  all, 
my  tears  were  not  those  of  a  woman  or  a  driveler,  they  really  stained 
a  "  man's  cheeks."  In  the  storm,  as  indeed  throughout,  I  greatly  im- 
proved upon  the  preceding  night.  I  was  frantic  with  passion,  and 
brought  up  expectation  to  the  dreadful  issue  of  such  a  conflict.  I  lost 
the  great  effect  of  "  Every  inch  a  king,"  but  will  be  more  careful  in 
future.  The  scene  with  Cordelia  and  the  death  were  both  better  than 
the  first  night.  Dow  came  into  my  room,  and  thought  me  greatly  im- 
proved throughout 

30th.  —  Called  at  the  Literary  Fund  office,  and  saw  Mr.  Snow,  the 
secretary,  who  explained,  in  answer  to  my  inquiries,  that  nothing  but 
a  compliment  was  intended  by  the  invitation  to  me,  and  that  they 
would  not  even  drink  my  health  if  it  was  objectionable  to  me.  I  ac- 
cepted the  invitation. 


1834.  LITERARY  FUND  DINNER.  307 

June  Qth.  —  Returned  to  the  subject  of  to-morrow's  dinner,  and  en- 
deavored to  collect  the  substance  of  what  I  ought  to  say  in  answer  to 
the  proposal  of  my  health,  which  I  think,  as  a  person  before  the  pub- 
lic, I  ought  not  to  shrink  from,  although  I  feel  myself  so  uncertain 
upon  the  mode  in  which  I  may  acquit  myself.  I  could  not  satisfy  my- 
self with  sentence  after  sentence,  nor  was  it  until  three  o'clock  that  I 
wrote  down,  without  hiatus,  what  I  thought  might  do,  and  then  went 
to  rest,  jaded  and  spirit-tired. 

1th.  —  Again  returned  to  this  annoying  and  perplexing  speech, 
which  would  have  been  most  amusing  to  a  looker-on  — but  which,  like 
the  frog  in  the  fable,  I  could  truly  say  was  "  death  to  me."  My  whole 
day  was  the  speech,  not  always  the  whole  speech,  but  certainly  noth- 
ing but  the  speech.  Returned  to  my  chambers  and  my  eternal  and 
infernal  speech,  at  which  I  labored,  but  so  unsuccessfully  that,  as  I  Was 
leaving  the  room  to  go  out,  I  found  on  trial  every  word  gone  from  my 
mind ;  an  effort  at  recollection  called  back  to  me  its  substance,  and  1 
went  along,  conning  it  over,  uncertain  whether  or  no  to  request  my 
health  to  be  omitted.  I  saw  Theodore  Hook  in  the  reception-room, 
and  Jerdan,  by  whom  I  was  presented,  a  mere  matter  of  form,  to  the 
Duke  of  Somerset ;  Lord  Mulgrave,  who  chatted  a  little,  as  did  Villiers, 
who  seemed  very  ill.  Lucien  Bonaparte  and  Tricoupi  the  Greek 
minister  were  also  there,  and  Holman  the  blind  traveler.  At  dinner 
I  was  placed  next  to  Murray,  opposite  to  Captain  Marryat,  Theodore 
Hook,  to  my  great  surprise,  Dick,  and  near  me,  Gleig,  Lockhart,  and, 
Christie,  who  reintroduced  himself  to  me.  I  spent  rather  a  pleasant 
day,  only  overshadowed  by  anticipations  of  my  speech,  which  like  many 
good  and  evil  anticipations  of  our  life,  never  came.  The  Duke  left  the 
Chair  —  I  followed.  "  Parturiunt  montes,  nascitur  nihil" 

21st.  —  Dined  with  Talfpurd,  where  I  met  Hay  ward,  Whitmore, 
Baines,  Price,  Forster,  and  several  others  of  legal  note  ;  a  very  pleas- 
ant afternoon. 

July  3d. —  Came  up  to  town  by  Billing's  and,  being  alone  in  the 
coach,  used  the  opportunity  of  fastening  in  my  mind  the  fugitive 
thoughts  which  I  wished  to  give  utterance  to  this  day.  After  arriving 
at  my  chambers,  Mrs.  Macready  *  called,  and  I  arranged  with  her  de- 
finitively the  Bristol  engagement,  promising  to  send  her  books  of  "  Sar- 
danapalus  "  and  "  Lear." 

Paid  Freeman  and  Healey,  and  still  repeated  and  repeated  what  I 
had  to  say.  Between  my  speech,  the  heat,  want  of  exercise  and 
luncheon,  I  was  quite  oppressed,  and  lay  down  in  the  hopes  that  a  little 
sleep  would  tranquillize  my  nerves,  which  were  much  and  painfully 
excited. 

To  the  very  last  moment  I  persisted  in  thinking  over  and  repeating 
my  speech,  and  went  at  last  to  the  dinner  at  the  Garrick  Club.  Saw 
Fladgate  in  the  drawing-room,  who  agreed  to  bring  forward  the  busi- 
ness of  Mrs.  Siddons's  monument,  and  I  engaged  that  Talfourd  should 
press  it  forward.  Introduced  to  Messrs.  Thackeray,  Graves,  Bredel, 

1  His  father's  widow.  —  ED. 


308  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1834. 

Maynard,  Muitland,  Brown,  Murphy,  Palmer  ;  besides  met  Talfourd, 
Price,  Forster,  J.  Smith,  White,  Simpson,  Blood,  Willett,  and  three  or 
four  more  gentlemen  whose  names  I  cannot  remember.  There  was 
venison,  etc.,  and  excellent  wines.  Talfourd  proposed  my  health  with 
a  speech  as  eloquent  as  it  was  kind,  which  says  all  for  it  that  truth  and 
admiration  can  wish  to  say.  I  answered  it  as  well  as  I  could  with 
self-possession,  but  under  strong  nervous  excitement.  We  had  .some 
very  good  songs  from  James  Smith  and  Blood,  and  the  evening  was  very 
pleasant;  Talfourd  left  us  on  business  with  a  promise  to  return. 
Shortly  after  Thackeray  and  one  or  two  others  dropped  away,  and  I 
intimated  to  Fladgate  the  necessity  of  proceeding  with  our  purpose 
lest  our  audience  should  become  too  diminished.  He  accordingly 
broached  the  subject,  which  he  very  shortly  transferred  to  me,  and  I 
had  to  lay  before  the  party  my  views  as  to  the  desire  of  myself  and 
others,  that  the  club  exclusively  should  have  the  honor  of  erecting  a 
monument  to  that  great  actress ;  alluded  to  the  generosity  of  her 
character  in  encouraging  merit  in  obscurity  ;  relating  an  anecdote  of 
Kean's  appearance  before  her,  and  of  her  kind  predictions,  which  I 
hinted  at.  of  my  own  success.  I  mentioned  what  Fladgate  and  myself 
had  done  in  the  interviews  we  had  had  with  Chantrey  and  the  Dean 
of  Westminster,  and  concluded  by  hoping  that  they  would  not  think 
I  wished  to  dictate  to  them,  but  that  they  would  concur  with  me  in 
thinking  that  it  would  confer  honor  on  our  Society  to  carry  this  object 
into  effect.  It  was  very  cordially  received,  resolutions  were  passed, 
and  upwards  of  £50  was  voted  instantly.  Talfourd  returned,  and  was 
informed  of  it ;  he  rose  to  return  thanks  for  his  health  being  drunk, 
and  spoke  on  the  subject  of  the  monument,  again  adverted  to  the 
occasion  of  the  meeting,  and  pronounced  a  most  brilliant  panegyric 
upon  me.  The  day  passed  off  most  happily,  and  at  twelve,  or  nearly 
so,  we  went  into  the  drawing-room,  where  I  introduced  myself  to 
Simpson,  and  where  Bredel  introduced  himself  to  me.  We  talked  on 
the  merit  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  Kemble,  Miss  O'Neill,  and  Kean  very 
agreeably  until  one  o'clock,  when  I  went  to  my  chambers,  leaving  the 
few  behind  to  broiled  bones  and  iced  champagne.  In  bed  I  read  short 
memoirs  of  Vauban  and  William  III.  and  went  to  sleep  in  great  dread 
of  to-morrow's  headache. 

Eistree,  July  13t/i.  —  Was  only  just  in  time  for  Billing's  coach. 

On  my  study  table  stood  Mr.  Lough's  Horses  of  Duncan  in  plaster, 
with  a  note  from  him  requesting  my  acceptance  of  them.  I  was 
pleased  with  the  gift  itself,  and  the  estimation  in  which  the  giver  ap- 
peared to  hold  me.  A  letter  also  from  Lieutenant  Marechaux,  30th 
Regt.,  giving  me  information  of  the  state  of  the  Regiment  with  re- 
spect to  purchase,  which  he  wished  to  have  communicated  to  Edward, 
who  now  stands  first  for  purchase  of  the  majority,  Poyntz,  his  senior, 
having  withdrawn  his  name. 

15;^. —  Read  several  articles  in  Leigh  Hunt's  journal,  but  none 
that  struck  me  very  much  ;  the  brief  memoir  of  Henriette  de  Bour- 
bon, Madame  de  Montpeusier,  was  the  most  interesting ;  particularly 


1834.  THE  SIDDONS  MONUMENT.  309 

her  quarrel  with  her  lover,  Lauzun.  Wrote  to  Edward,  inclosing  him 
Marechaux's  letter,  and  acknowledging  his  last  remittance.  Walked 
in  the  garden  and  wrote  in  arrears.  Began  the  alteration  of  the  2d 
act  of  "  The  Maid's  Tragedy." 

16th.  — -  Letter  from  Bunn,  inquiring  if  I  would  sign  an  agreement 
for  next  season.  Came  to  town  by  Bryant,  reading  four  acts  of  Capf 

tain  T 's  tragedy  on  the  way  :  he  has  talent,  and  the  style  of  his 

dialo'gue  is  dramatic,  but  he  wants  power  and  invention.  Found  note 
from  Mrs.  Tucker  about  Miss  Allison,  which  I  directly  inclosed  to 
Calcraft,  and  another  in  a  complimentary  vein,  accompanying  a  play 
called  "  Orfred  from  Canterbury."  Wrote  to  J.  Birch  to  say  I  would 
dine  with  him,  and  inclosed  J.  Twiss's  order  for  £20  to  Ransom's. 
Answered  Bunn's  letter  to  the  effect  that  the  old  account  should  be 
cleared  before  another  was  opened,  adding,  that  I  should  not  be  able 
to  open  with  him. 

Called  again,  as  per  promise,  on  Price  returning,  and  found  he  had 
quite  forgotten  all  about  Mrs.  Siddons's  monument ;  I  therefore,  at  his 
request,  wrote  a  letter  from  the  members  to  the  committee,  which  he 
took  charge  of.  He  gave  me  some  very  nice  sealing-wax,  which  I 
carried  to  my  chambers.  Went  on  to  Nattali's,  where  I  bought  an 
Herodotus,  .^Eschylus,  Sophocles,  Pope's  Homer,  Winkelman,  Field- 
ing, Vanburgh,  Thompson,  Bos,  amounting  to  £9  Is. 

17th. —  For  many  a  day  I  have  not  felt  equal  inconvenience  and 
oppressiveness  from  the  heat  as  I  did  in  getting  up  this  morning, 
which  is  perhaps  attributable  to  my  diner  gras  of  yesterday.  I  wrote 
notes  to  Richardson,  appointing,  in  answer  to  the  request  of  his  card, 
3  o'clock  to  see  him  about  the  Granby ;  to  Nattali,  with  corrected 
check ;  to  Dunn,  with  extract  of  Bunn's  note  and  request  of  the 
balance  ;  and  to  Bunn,  denying  his  assertion  that  any  understanding 
existed  between  us,  and  desiring  to  know  whether  he  wished  me  to 
suspend  my  engagements  not  concluded,  or  no.  Calcraft  called  and 
undertook  to  see  and  call  upon  Miss  Allison.  He  mentioned  to  me 
Sir  W.  de  Bathe's  offer  to  him,  viz.,  of  being  his  security  for  Covent 
Garden  Theater,  and  lending  him  £5,000.  This  is  very  generous. 

Went  to  the  National  Gallery  and  looked  again  at  the  Correggio  — 
also  the  study  of  Ugolino's  head  and  the  Horneck.  Called  at  Nichol's 

about  Captain  T- 's  play,  and  agreed  to  send  it  immediately  —  saw 

the  portrait  of  Shakespeare,  said  to  have  been  painted  by  Burbage. 
I  think  it  not  unlikely. 

Elstree,  July  18^.  —  After  a  short  walk  in  the  garden  with  the  dear 
children,  who,  I  thank  most  heartily  Almighty  God,  are  much  better,  I 
began  to  arrange  the  books  I  had  left  out  of  place  last  night ;  this 
occupied  some  time.  I  then  returned  to  the  alteration  of  the  con- 
cluding scene  of  the  second  act  of  "  The  Maid's  Tragedy,"  which  I 
found  a  much  longer  task  than  I  had  anticipated.  Dined  early  upon 
a  vegetable  dinner,  which  enabled  me  to  return  almost  immediately 
to  my  employment.  The  rain  that  poured  down  through  the  greater 
part  of  the  day  was  most  gratefully  welcomed  ;  but  during  the  violent 


310  '  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1834. 

thunder-storm  in  the  afternoon  our  kitchen  was  inundated  with  the 
water  pouring  down  through  the  roof  and  breaking  in  through  the 
floor.  After  finishing  the  alteration  of  the  second  act,  which  1  think 
is  a  very  considerable  improvement,  I  returned  to  the  task  of  marking 
and  arranging  the  mise  en  scene  of  the  tragedy,  which  I  completed  to 
within  a  page  or  two. 

In  the  afternoon  I  received  a  parcel  containing  a  note  from(  Mr. 
Bunn  wishing  me  to  open  the  theater  and  perform  Manfred,  postpon- 
ing for  that  purpose  my  Dublin  engagement.  I  do  not  like  the 
thought  of  this,  as  I  see  rio  chance  for  the  success  of  "  Manfred  "  — 
it  is,  as  I  observed,  not  a  monodraine,  but  a  monologue ;  splendid  as 
the  poetry  is,  it  is  not  at  all  dramatic.  This  morning  in  arranging  my 
books  I  missed  the  first  volume  of  "  Tom  Jones,"  and  to-night  Letitia 
found  it  in  Ball's  cupboard ;  this  is  a  liberty  which  scarcely  ought  to 
be  passed  by  —  it  is  very  bad. 

19th.  —  Received  a  letter  from  Shell  inclosing  franks,  and  the  ex- 
pression of  his  regret  at  not  having  seen  me,  and  one  from  Knowles 
asking  me  to  act  Alfred  for  his  benefit  on  Monday,  28th,  at  the  Vic- 
toria Theater.  Came  down-stairs,  and  answered  Mr.  Bunn's  letter, 
exposing  the  impracticability  of  my  studying  Manfred  before  my  visit 
to  Dublin  ;  wrote  to  Messrs.  Powell,  requesting  their  opinion  upon 
the  rent  of  the  Granby  to  Messrs.  Richardson  and  Clunn ;  inclosed 
my  letter  to  Marechaux  in  the  frank,  and  sent  them  all  in  a  parcel  to 
be  posted  and  delivered  in  London.  After  breakfast  sat  down  to  an- 
swer Knowles ;  I  confess,  though  it  is  a  great  inconvenience  and  I 
feel  it  rather  a  descent  to  play  at  the  Victoria,  yet  I  am  gratified  in 
receiving  this  application  from  him ;  it  is  the  best  rebuke  I  can  give 
to  his  avoidance  of  me,  his  coldness  to  me,  and  his  omission  to  do  me 
the  common  justice  of  contradicting  the  paragraph  in  the  '•  Morning 
Chronicle,"  as  also  the  behavior  of  his  wife  and  daughter  to  me.  I 
answered  him  in  the  kindest  tone,  assenting  to  his  wish. 

Finished  completely  the  arrangement  of  "  The  Maid's  Tragedy  " 
which  I  think  is  improved.  Began  to  put  "  Sardauapalus  "  in  acting 
form.  While  waiting  for  Calcraft,  took  up  Fielding's  "  Amelia,"  and 
was  pleased  with  much  of  the  story,  but  more  with  the  happy  maxims 
and  excellent  counsel  with  which  it  abounds. 

21st.  —  My  dear  daughter  Catherine  Frances  Birch  born.1 

"22d.  —  Took  an  early  vegetable  dinner,  and  afterwards  read  to  the 
end  of  "  Amelia ; "  it  cannot  of  course  be  mentioned  with  "  Tom 
Jones,"  and  there  are  passages  of  prosiness,  puerility  of  expression, 
and  occasional  coarseness,  but  there  is  humor,  wit,  pathos,  character, 

*  Died,  and  was  buried  at  sea,  on  her  voyage  home  from  Madeira,  24th  of  March, 
1869.  She  was  the  author  of  some  very  tender  and  beautiful  poems  published  under 
the  titles  of  Leaves  from  the  Olive  Mount  (1860),  Cowl  and  Cap  (1865),  and  Devo- 
tional Lays  (1868).  Enjoying  a  large  share  of  imaginative  capacity,  she  was  a 
person  of  warm  and  enthusiastic  affection,  which  ^as  amply  returned  by  those  who 
knew  her,  and  she  inherited  much  of  her  father's  artistic  temperament.  Her  de- 
voted ministrations  among  the  poor  during  the  time  of  Macready's  residence  at 
Cheltenham  will  long  be  remembered  there.  —  ED. 


1834.  WORK  ON  SARDANAPALUS.  311 

and  the  justest,  most  philosophic  views  of  our  internal  polity.  Heard 
dear  Nina  her  lesson  ;  gave  up  the  greater  part  of  my  day  to  the  dull, 
weary,  uninteresting,  unimproving  task  of  preparing,  by  interleaving 
and  marking,  a  prompt  copy  of  "  Sardanapalus."  Went  up  occasion- 
ally and  sat  with  my  dearest  Catherine,  for  whose  comfortable  state 
of  health,  again  and  again  I  thank  Almighty  God. 

23d.  —  Letters  from  Kenneth  proposing  Worcester  to  me  for 
August,  and  from  Wallace  with  congratulations  on  the  dear  addition 
to  our  numbers.  Answered  Kenneth  immediately  in  the  negative, 
and  then  to  do  something  in  the  interval  before  breakfast,  walked 
down  to  the  reservoir  with  the  dogs,  where  they  got  a  good  washing ; 
afterwards  went  round  the  garden  ;  the  morning  was  very  warm  and 
beautiful  after  the  late  rains. 

Received  a  very  kind  letter  of  congratulation  from  Forster,  which 
I  answered  in  its  own  spirit.  After  dinner  I  worked  at  "  Sardauapa- 
lus  "  until  four  o'clock,  when  I  heard  dear  Nina  her  lesson. 

Returned  to  "Sardanapalus,"  which  I  at  length  finished,  and  with 
great  satisfaction  in  closing  it,  at  a  quarter  past  12  o'clock. 

24ith.  —  Found  letters  from  John  Birch,  congratulating  me,  and 
from  Calcraft,  informing  me,  that  his  brother-in-law,  but  married  on 
Sunday  last,  had  died  in  thirteen  hours  of  cholera,  and  that  he  had  his 
funeral  expenses  to  defray,  requesting  the  loan  of  £25.  Read  the 
newspaper,  and  think  Lord  Brougham  cannot  long  continue  Chancel- 
lor. Visited  dear  Catherine.  Began  my  professional  study  and,  as 
an  introduction  and  to  get  my  throat  in  order,  read  and  rehearsed 
small  portions  of  various  characters  —  among  the  rest  began  Melan- 
tius.  Letter  from  Powell  and  Son.  Knaresborough,  upon  letting  the 
Granby.  After  reading  in  the  drawing-room  for  something  more  than 
two  hours,  I  came  down  to  a  vegetable  dinner,  and  afterwards  wrote 
to  Calcraft,  inclosing  him  a  check  for  £25,  and  sent  him  by  the 
Crown  Prince  the  marked  copy  of  "  Sardanapalus  "  requesting  him  to 
get  it  bound  for  me.  Mr.  Pope  called,  and  reported  very  well,  thank 
God,  of  Catherine  and  the  baby. 

Went  twice  with  care  over  the  play  of  "  Lear  "  to  discover  where 
I  could  lighten  the  language  of  the  subordinate  parts ;  was  able  to 
effect  little  further  reduction.  Began  to  prepare  the  book  for  inter- 
leaving, etc. 

25^.  — -  Coming  down,  I  heard  dear  Nina  her  lesson,  in  which, 
though  with  many  attempts  to  control  myself,  I  grew  impatient  and 
spoke  with  temper.  This  is,  without  qualification,  wrong ;  it  is  the 
business  of  parents  to  endure  the  levity  and  inattention  of  these  dear 
creatures,  and  be  contented  to  assure  themselves  that  a  patient  repe- 
tition of  the  often  forgotten  or  unheeded  precepts,  insures  for  it  a  per- 
manent place  in  the  memory  at  last.  Children  should  be  lured  to 
knowledge,  until  its  acquisition,  like  that  of  meaner  gain,  creates  a  pas- 
sion for  its  increase.  I  hope  to  be  more  circumspect.  Read  through 
Major  Cross's  play  of  "  The  Cid  "  —  a  translation  I  believe  from  Lope 
de  Vega  —  if  so,  I  have  no  great  opinion  of  the  dramatic  literature 


312  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1834. 

of  Spain  ;  the  original,  I  doubt  not,  contains  poetry,  high  sentiment, 
and  some  passion,  but  is  utterly  deficient  in  construction  and  situation 
- — the  climax  of  action.  Gave  the  rest  of  my  day  to  the  wearying, 
slow,  and  un improving  task  of  preparing  my  acting  copy  of  "  King 
Lear,"  even  to  the  last  hour  of  evening. 

Sunday,  July  27th.  —  Went  to  afternoon  service,  where  I  was  made 
impatient  of  the  unprofitable  stuff'  that  is  served  out  to  hungry  minds 
from  the  pulpit- — citing  the  Book  of  Revelation,  and  declaring  that 
the  commandments  were  "  written  on  tables  of  stone  by  the  finger  of 
the  Almighty."  Letitia  made  a  very  good  observation  on  this,  viz., 
that  churchmen  who  used  such  language  were  not  justified  in  abusing 
the  Roman  Catholic  artists  for  introducing  as  a  person,  the  Incompre- 
hensible Spirit  of  Life  and  Virtue,  since  their  conception  of  His  attri- 
butes were  equally  limited. 

22th.  —  Went  to  Cartwright,  who  was  glad  to  see  me,  and  whose 
reputation  alone  supported  my  trembling  confidence  that  he  would  not 
pull  the  teeth  out  of  my  head.  I  engaged  to  revisit  his  terrible  room 
on  this  day  fortnight,  and,  after  another  operation,  to  dine  with  him. 
He  has  some  beautiful  specimens  of  art  and  interesting  curiosities.  I 
forced  him  to  take  £5,  but  he  made  me  promise  not  to  repeat  the  in- 
fliction. 

30th.  —  Before  I  rose  I  read  the  first  part  of  "  Philip  Van  Arte- 
velde,"  which  I  had  begun  last  night,  and  laid  down  a  little  before 
those  kind  of  southern  rains  came  pouring  out  of  the  heavens  like 
thunder  on  the  deep  rush  of  the  wind  —  it  was  indeed  densissimus  im- 
ber.  This  dramatic  poem,  "  Van  Artevelde,"  pleased  me  very  much  : 
profound  thought  displayed  in  the  happiest  adornings  of  fancy,  and 
excellent  ideas  of  discriminated  character,  if  the  persons  are  not  suffi- 
ciently individualized  by  their  language.  The  description  of  Uken- 
heim  and  his  dead  children  affected  me  very  much  —  I  am  greatly 
pleased  with  what  I  have  read. 

31st.  —  At  about  half-past  five  I  took  up  the  second  volume  of 
"  Philip  Van  Artevelde,"  in  which  I  had  made  little  progress  last 
night,  and  read  until  past  seven  ;  I  was  and  am  possessed  with  the 
book  —  I  think  there  is  affectation  in  the  unrequired  coinages  of  words, 
which  distinguishes  the  poem,  and  occasional  obscurity,  but  there  is  so 
much  truth,  philosophy,  poetry,  and  beauty,  combined  with  passion  and 
descriptive  power  of  no  ordinary  character,  that  I  was  obliged  to  force 
myself  to  lay  the  book  down.  On  coming  down  I  heard  dear  Nina 
her  lesson,  and  gave  her  some  toys,  which  quite  charmed  her.  Re- 
sumed my  slowly  advancing  work  upon  the  prompt-book  of  "  King 
Lear,"  and  am  more  reconciled  to  expending  my  time  on  these  or  any 
other  of  Shakespeare's  works  than  on  all  the  Sardanapaluses  that  ever 
were  written.  In  the  course  of  the  morning  some  ideas  on  the  part 
of  Melantius  entered  my  head,  which  led  me  to  think  further  on  it, 
and  to  encourage  a  more  sanguine  expectation  on  the  success  of  the 
character  than  I  had  ventured  to  entertain.  Sainton  arrived,  arid  after 
resting  and  repairing  himself,  accompanied  me  to  the  drawing-room, 


1834.  COLERIDGE'S  "  WALLENSTEIN."  313 

where  I  beguiled  the  tediousness  of  the  operation  of  sitting  for  a  por- 
trait with  the  remainder  of  the  volume  of  "  Van  Artevelde,"  which  I 
think  the  work  of  a  master-spirit,  whose  politics  I  fear  are  strictly 
Tory.  Looked  over  a  book  on  fly-fishing  by  S.  Oliver,  a  contributor 
to  Blackwood.  Walked  in  the  garden  once  and  weeded ;  visited 
Catherine  frequently.  Dow  arrived  a  little  after  five,  and  we  spent 
rather  a  cheerful  evening. 

August  1st.  —  My  mind  is  earnest  in  the  cultivation  of  my  art,  and 
I  have  accordingly  a  pleasure  in  rising  early  to  prosecute  my  study  of 
it.  Perseverance  is  invincible  by  any  difficulty  :  the  constant  revolv- 
ing of  characters  in  the  mind  shows  us  their  various  phases,  and  ena- 
bles us  to  choose  the  most  luminous.  Patience,  alias  iudefatigability 
of  mind,  I  take  to  be  genius,  as  Montesquieu  defines  it. 

At  breakfast  was  obliged  to  put  in  practice  a  recommendation  from 
Fox's  "  Monthly  Repository,"  viz.,  to  let  children  cry  till  they  learn 
the  fruitlessness  and  inconvenience  of  it :  Willie  indulged  himself  in 
the  joy  of  grief  this  morning  until  the  absence  of  all  sympathy  brought 
him  to  good  behavior. 

Resumed  my  work  at  the  book  of  "  Lear  ; "  and  looked  at  the  critique 
on  "  The  Hunchback "  and  my  letter  to  Mudford  from  Italy.  Read 
and  practiced  Lear,  Melantius,  Milton.  Wrote  letters  to  Kenneth,  de- 
clining Manby's  offer,  but  keeping  open  the  negotiation  to  Wallace  ;  to 
H.  Smith,  inquiring  after  his  health  ;  to  Nichol,  the  publisher,  recom- 
mending him  to  proceed  with  Captain  T 's  play ;  to  Miss  Flower, 

thanking  her  for  her  present  to  Nina  of  Howitt's  "  Poems,"  etc. ;  and 
to  Forster  with  the  samples  of  my  deficiency  in  the  power  of  compo- 
sition. 

3d.  —  My  vanity  or  avidity  for  notice  or  praise,  which  I  see  is  a 
weakness,  or  more  probably  a  folly,  entailing  uneasy  hopes  and 
doubtings,  and  perhaps  occasionally  mortification,  received  a  check 
this  morning  which  I  hope  will  prove  a  wholesome  one.  In  the  ex- 
pectation (for  so  it  must  have  been,  though  I  never  whispered  it  to 
myself)  of  reading  encomiums  on  my  acting  and  my  friendly  conduct 
to  Knowles,  I  sent  for  the  "  Spectator  "  and  the  "  Athenaeum  ;  "  they 
arrived  this  morning,  with  not  one  word  of  the  Victoria  Theater,  and, 
in  the  "  Examiner,"  which  gave  a  short  article  to  Knowles,  my  name 
was  not  mentioned.  I  was  really  not  at  all  displeased  at  this,  for  I 
thought  it  a  very  mild  and  good  lesson. 

Read  two  acts  of  Coleridge's  "  Translation  of  Wallenstein."  Was 
much  struck  with  many  of  the  thoughts,  the  language,  and  dramatic 
situation  of  what  I  read.  Of  the  heroes  who  lent  themselves  to  super- 
stitious dependencies,  Sertorius  seems  to  me  to  be  the  man  of  the 
greatest  genius,  and  the  most  excusable  in  his  use  of  such  a  paltry  but 
powerful  means  of  influencing  his  fellow-men. 

Read  preface  to  Winkelmaun's  "  History  of  Ancient  Art,"  which 
promises  much  in  the  work  itself.  Cicero's  statement  of  Aratus 
writing  a  poem  on  Astronomy  in  total  ignorance  of  the  subject  is  very 
good. 


3H  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1834. 

August  ±th.  —  In  bed  I  finished  the  first  part  of  "  Wallenstein." 

Began  my  morning  study  of  "  King  Lear."  I  was  interrupted  by 
the  arrival  of  a  Mr.  Palmer  (whom  I  had  entirely  forgotten),  come  to 
take  a  plaster  cast  of  my  face  ;  I  lost  as  little  time  as  I  could  help, 
and  found  the  operation  not  so  formidably  uncomfortable  as  I  had 
been  led  to  suspect.  The  artists,  whom  Catherine  declares  to  be 
image-men,  were  dismissed  with  a  good  luncheon,  and  I  was  left  to 
Shakespeare  and  Fletcher  again.  I  pursued  my  practice  and  reading 
until  dinner. 

After  dinner  I  sat  in  Catherine's  room,  and  read  the  second  part  or 
Death  of  Wallenstein,  which  is  of  a  gloomier  interest,  containing  pas- 
sages of  equal  grandeur  and  power,  and  is  altogether  more  pathetic. 
It  is  upon  this  drama  that  Schiller's  reputation  should  take  its  stand. 
Having  finished  it,  and  conversed  some  little  while  with  Catherine,  I 
walked  in  the  garden  with  my  sweet  children,  and  there  read  the 
translator's  preface  to  Winkelmann's  "  History  of  Ancient  Art."  He 
makes  a  strong  case  against  his  predecessors,  but  does  not  excite  much 
prepossession  in  his  own  favor  by  his  complaints  of  the  deficiency  of 
his  subscribers.  Entered  some  memoranda  in  this  book,  and  then  re- 
perused  Wiukelmann's  own  preface,  reading  aloud,  in  which  I  learn 
the  necessity  of  being  slow  to  advance  a  judgment  on  works  of  art, 
and  feel  his  profound  knowledge  on  this  interesting  subject.  Began 
his  life,  which  is  as  full  of  interest  as  instruction.  What  cannot  a  man 
do,  who  resolves  on  doing  ?  The  son  of  a  cobler  — "  Au  sein  de 
Tindigence  nourrissait  de  grands  projets  et  ne  perdait  jamais  1'espe- 
rance  de  les  executer;"  again,  —  "II  ne  vivait  la  plupart  du  temps 
que  de  pain  et  d'eau ;  quoi  qu'il  manquiit  souvent  de  tout,  on  1'a  tou- 
jours  vu  gai  et  content."  His  own  account  of  himself,  teaching  the  al- 
phabet to  "  enfans  sales  et  teigneux,"  indulging  his  aspirations  and 
meditating  on  Homer,  is  beautiful :  "  Je  me  disais  alors,  comme  je  me 
dis  encore :  paix,  mon  coeur,  tes  forces  surpassent  encore  tes  ennuis." 
Looked  into  French  translation  of  Schiller ;  find  the  idea  of  "  In  to- 
day already  walks  to-morrow"  is  all  his  own.  Read  over  most  of  the 
part  of  Luke  in  "  Riches,"  and  cut  the  play  a  little  more. 

iith.  —  Went  into  the  drawing-room  to  read.  I  studied,  or  rather 
practiced,  passages  of  "  Hamlet,"  "  Macbeth,"  "  King  Lear,"  and  read 
"Melantius."  I  was  not  satisfied  with  myself;  and  thus  it  often  hap- 
pens, in  beginning  the  day  with  loss,  I  go  on  in  a  losing  spirit,  instead 
of  rallying  my  energies  to  redeem  by  industry  neglected  opportunity. 
Heard  dear  Nina  part  of  her  lesson,  which  she  said  very  well.  Re- 
sumed the  life  of  Winkelmann,  which  interested  me  much :  how  I 
envy  him  his  fortitude,  his  unconquerable  resolution,  and  his  practical 
philosophy.  It  is  not  easy  to  get  over  his  indifference  to  the  religion 
he  first  professed,  which  is  making  light  to  others  of  what  a  wise  man 
would,  for  the  sake  of  others  at  least,  hold  in  outward  reverence.  In 
this  particular,  Pope,  who  was  manifestly  a  Deist,  is  much  to  be  com- 
mended that  he  adhered  to  the  form  of  the  religion  in  which  he  was 
born.  Nothing  but  conviction  can  justify  such  a  change  ;  but  Winkel- 


1834.  WINKELMANN.  315 

rnann  would,  as  was  said  of  him,  have  submitted,  I  believe,  to  circum- 
cision for  equal  advantages.  Abstract  beauty  was  the  object  of  his 
worship.  Let  it  be  said  for  him  that  he  was  a  good  son,  and  a  good 
friend.  His  accident  at  the  Palazzo  Ludovici  is  well  told,  and  he  quite 
interests  us  in  his  patrons,  Cardinals  Passionei  and  Albani.  His  de- 
scriptions of  his  journeys  and  his  residence  at  Porto  d'Anzio  are 
delightful. 

Qth.  —  Began  my  morning's  study  with  Hamlet's  soliloquy  —  then 
rehearsed  and  read  the  two  first  acts  of  "  King  Lear  "  and  read  part  of 
the  fourth  act  of "  Melantius."  I  had  not  such  reason  to  reproach 
myself  with  indolence  or  want  of  zeal  to-day,  which  is  a  comfortable 
thought  to  me.  I  read  for  nearly  four  hours.  After  dinner,  at  which 
I  ate  a  little  meat,  I  sat  with  Catherine  for  some  time,  and  read  some 
pages  in  "  La  Vie  de  Winkelmann,"  which  continues  to  preserve  its 
interest  for  me.  His  observations  on  architecture,  his  principles  of 
taste,  and  his  warmth  of  feeling  excite  most  favorable  sentiments  to- 
wards him.  His  mistake  on  the  picture  of  Casanova,  and  the  mirth  in 
which  he  indulged  on  others'  want  of  tact  in  discriminating  between 
antique  and  modern,  were  good  checks  to  his  presumption  —  but  nemo 
mortalium  omnibus,  etc.  Walked  in  the  garden.  A  beautiful  rain- 
bow arched  over  our  house,  and  looked  like  a  promise  of  sunshine  upon 
it.  I  have  superstitious  feelings  that  are  gladdened  or  overcast  by 
certain  "  skyey  influences,"  which  look  like  omens  to  them,  and  which 
my  spirit  hails  as  such.  I  believe  this  alliance  of  our  own  fortunes 
with  the  remoter  creations  and  glories  of  the  Deity  is  more  general 
than  appears  from  our  concealment  of  the  whispers  of  our  minds. 
Read  some  extracts  from  Spenser,  in  whom  appears  much  pure  beauty 
with  much  alloy.  Cut  still  more  three  acts  of  "  Sardanapalus." 

7th.  —  Began  my  professional  study  with  the  soliloquy  of  Hamlet, 
which,  to  give  with  grace,  earnestness,  and  complete  abstraction,  I  find 
one  of  the  most  difficult  tasks  I  have  to  master.  Resumed  my  perusal 
of  the  life  of  Winkelmann.  I  see  he  subtilizes  too  much,  and  is  not 
infallible  in  his  judgments.  His  preference  of  Mengs  to  Guido  in  his 
comparison  of  their  respective  figures  of  Apollo,  not  to  refer  to  his 
grand  mistake  of  Casanova's  picture,  is  sufficient  proof:  but  there  is 
m«ch  to  be  learnt  from  his  enthusiasm  and  fine  sense  of  the  beautiful. 
One,  among  many  excellent  observations  which  he  offers  on  the  princi- 
ples of  art,  may  serve  as  a  maxim  to  those  who  study  mine :  "  II  doit 
eviter,  autant  qu'il  soit  possible,  toutes  les  actions  violentes,  parce  que 
les  gestes  outres  et  les  attitudes  forcees  font  grimacer  la  beaute  ineme." 
The  work  interests  me  more  as  I  proceed  in  it,  though  I  do  not  clearly 
comprehend  nor  set  much  value  on  his  theory  on  Allegory.  Read  over 
aloud,  in  order  to  improve  my  pronunciation,  what  I  had  previously  read 
more  deliberately.  Cut  the  remaining  two  acts  of  "  Sardanapalus " 
for  Bristol.  Went  over  the  whole  of"  Melantius,"  to  which  I  do  not 
attach  myself  with  the  ardor  that  is  in  general  an  augury  of  success. 
At  present  there  are  not  many  passages  of  such  nature  arid  true  feeling 
that  suggest  themselves  in  their  effect  to  the  mind  at  once.  They  may 
rise  to  me  —  I  must  hope  and  search. 


316  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1834. 

8th.  —  In  the  short  interval  before  breakfast  read  in  Ovid  the  fable 
of  Aesacus's  transformation  into  a  cormorant;  I  certainly  had  no  idc:i 
of  the  poetic  power  of  Ovid  till  I  took  up  his  "  Metamorphoses." 
Some  lines  in  this  fable  are  not  inapplicable  to  myself: 

"  Oder.it  hie  urbcs,  nitidaque  remotns  ab  aulA 
Sccretos  monies,  et  inambitiosa  colebat 
Rura :  nee  Iliacos  ccetus,  nisi  rarus,  adibat."  l 

There  is  much  pathos,  and  great  felicity  of  expression  in  this  little 
poem. 

Resumed  my  efforts  at  Hamlet's  soliloquy,  of  which,  hard  as  it  is, 
I  do  not  despair.  Rehearsed  and  read  the  third  act  of  "  Lear,"  and 
studied  part  of  Melantius.  Read  through  the  four  first  acts  of  "  King 
Lear,"  in  reference  to  my  own  character,  and  to  the  mise  en  scene  of 
the  play. 

Sth.  —  I  resumed  the  eternal  soliloquy  of  Hamlet.  Rehearsed  and 
read  the  fourth  act  of  "  King  Lear,"  and  part  of  Melantius.  Came 
down  and  took  up  Ovid,  where  I  had  closed  the  book  yesterday  :  read 
the  fable  of  the  omen  of  the  Trojan  war's  duration,  the  sacrifice  of 
Iphigenia  at  Aulis,  and  the  description  of  the  dwelling  of  Fame  at  the 
"  Triplicis  confinia  mundi,"  in  which  there  is  much  poetry.  If  my 
recollection  serves  me  truly,  it  seems  to  have  suggested  the  idea  of 
Milton's  limbo,  in  the  sort  of  confusion,  though,  indeed,  in  Ovid  it  is 
"  the  regular  confusion."  I  was  very  much  pleased  with  it. 

After  dinner  finished  the  Life  of  Winkelmann.  His  melancholy 
death  more  than  expiated  his  failings,  which  seem  to  have  been  those 
of  manner  rather  than  of  disposition. 

llth. —  In  musing  on  various  things  and  forcing  my  thoughts  on 
my  profession,  the  account  of  Mrs.  Siddons's  nervousness  on  first  ap- 
pearing before  Queen  Charlotte  recurred  to  me ;  and  in  the  confidence 
she  endeavored  to  regain  by  the  thought,  that  she  had  often  acted 
queens,  I  thought  she  gave  an  unconscious  testimony  to  her  identifica- 
tion of  herself  with  the  characters  she  represented. 

15th.  —  Melantius,  which  grows  harder  as  I  grapple  more  closely 
with  it,  but  this  will  grow  easier.  Read  a  letter  from  Angelo,  the 
fencing  master,  applying  for  my  subscription  —  poor  fellow!  he  has 
wrung  my  wrists  and  I  have  d d  him  for  an  old  rascal,  little  dream- 
ing of  our  reversed  situations.  After  dinner  went  into  the  garden  and 
gave  a  bone  to  old  Tip,  which  choked  him  :  the  poor  old  dog  lay  down 
and  foamed.  I  did  not  know  whether  he  was  going  mad  or  dying ;  I 
patted  him  and  smoothed  his  throat  and  called  Phillips,  hurrying  away 
the  children.  Phillips  very  cleverly  poked  a  rope  down  his  throat, 
and  the  old  dog  stood  up  looking  very  uncomfortable  but  relieved  from 
his  misery. 

ISth. —  (Abbott's  benefit).  —  Came  to  town  by  Billing's  ;  endeavor- 

1  He  hated  towns,  and  from  their  courtly  pomp 
Flying  afar,  he  sought  sequestered  hills 
And  quiet  fields,  nor  oft  did  he  frequeni 
The  city's  throngs.  —  ED.  TRANS. 


1834.       .  GRISI.  317 

ing  to  think  over  "  Virginias  "  for  the  evening.  Went  to  theater,  in- 
commoded by  the  size  of  the  house  (the  Opera  House).  In  the  second 
scene,  as  I  stood  at  the  wing,  I  saw  Grisi  in  the  opposite  box  ;  rallied 
and  played  very  fairly.  The  house  was  much  moved  and  called  for 
me.  After  a  time  I  went  on  ;  I  was  greatly  received.  When  I  was 
dressed,  I  asked  Abbott  to  say  to  Grisi,  that  I  wished  to  be  presented 
to  her  (she  had  expressed  herself  delighted  with  the  play),  and  on  her 
sayiug  she  should  be  delighted  to  make  my  acquaintance  I  went  into 
her  room  and  sat  with  her  some  time.  Saw  Grisi's  last  scene  of 
"  Anna  Bolena,"  which  was  very  fine. 

21st.  —  To  chambers  by  Billing's  coach,  reading  the  "  Medecin  Mal- 
gre  Lui "  and  part  of  the  "  Misanthrope  "  on  the  road.  The  humor 
of  the  first  is  palpable  to  the  dullest,  but  there  must  be  a  charm  in  the 
language  of  the  "  Misanthrope,"  and  an  effect  in  the  character  of  Al- 
ceste  and  Celimene,  too  fine  for  a  foreigner's  apprehension  to  make 
this  play  interesting  as  it  is  to  French  audiences.  Like  Pope's  verse, 
Moliere  is  of  very  general  application,  as  comprehensive  a  praise  as 
can  well  be  given.  Found  Brewster  at  my  chambers,  who  cut  my 
hair,  and  took  orders  for  my  wigs.  Our  nursery-maid  called ;  and 
Talfourd  came  in  to  ask  some  questions  about  his  Scotch  tour,  which 
he  had  decided  on.  I  engaged  to  dine  with  him,  and  furnished  him 
with  necessary  information. 

23d.  —  Finished  "  Le  Misanthrope,"  which  I  like  much  for  its  pas- 
sion, character,  and  language,  but  its  meagreness  of  plot  makes  it  a 
national,  not  an  universal,  chef  (Poeuvre.  Finished  "  L'Amour  Med- 
ecin "  of  Moliere,  a  silly  piece  of  extravagance. 

2ith.  —  Tip  dies. 

Richmond,  August  25th.  —  "  Virginius."     t 

29^.  — "Lear." 

[September  1st  to  loth. — Engagement  at  Bristol.] 

Sth.  —  Acted*  very  indifferently  the  part  of  William  Tell,  which  I 
now  thoroughly  dislike.  I  was  in  low  spirits,  in  pain,  and  disturbed 
in  my  best  effects  by  the  carelessness  of  the  performers.  How  much 
it  is  to  be  lamented  that  there  is  no  probation  for  players  to  pass ! 

Swansea,  September  IQth.  —  "Macbeth." 

17th.  —  As  soon  as  I  was  up,  and  on  my  coming  out  to  breakfast 
J  began  to  enter  my  expenses  in  my  account-book  :  I  also  thought 
a  great  deal  on  my  intended  insurance,  and  reflecting  that  by  in- 
suring too  much  I  might  perhaps  incapacitate  myself  from  keeping 
up  the  policies  I  took  out,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  would  be 

better  to  invest  the  £1,000  now  held  by  Lord  H in  Rock  shares 

for  another  £1,000,  and  invest  what  I  may  make  between  the  present 
and  Christmas  in  Government  Securities  to  go  to  the  annual  payment 
of  my  policy  for  £3,000  in  the  Eagle  Insurance,  which  would  make 
together  a  sum  to  bequeath  of  at  least  £5,000. 

Took  a  warm  bath  and  walked  to  the  pier,  and  along  the  sands,  en- 
joying the  beauty  of  the  bay. —  really  beautiful  —  and  listening  to  the 
music  of  the  waves  gently  breaking  upon  the  shore,  feeling  within 


318  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1834. 

myself  a  relish  of  the  air,  the  sea,  the  sky,  of  nature,  and  of  life,  that 
was  most  delicious.  Came  home,  and  before  and  after  dinner  read  in 
Homer,  the  pathetic  death  of  Patroclus. 

Swansea,  September  18th. —  "Werner." 

Gloucester,  September  20th.  —  Bought  a  small  volume  of  Gifford's 
"  Baviad  "  and  "  Majviad  "  to  read  on  my  journey.  Looked  at  the 
newspaper,  paid  my  bill,  and  came  away.  Read  Gifford's  life.  With 
the  direct  simplicity  of  its  narration  I  was  pleased,  and  affected  by  the 
touching  enumeration  of  his  sufferings ;  his  answer  to  Lord  Grosve- 
nor's  inquiry  —  that  he  "  had  no  friends,  and  no  prospects  of  any 
kind,"  moved  me  very  much.  What  a  lesson  is  such  a  life,  but  what 
a  lesson  is  every  man's  life  if  we  would  only  use  our  own  minds  in 
their  examination  !  Read  the  "  Baviad  "  and  "  Masviad,"  preferred 
the  former :  the  subject  was  too  much  exhausted  for  a  new  satire  at 
least  to  equal  in  pungent  effect  the  former  one.  They  are,  however, 
both  extremely  good,  and  must  have  fallen  like  a  giant's  arm  upon 
the  insect-like  flutterings  of  the  half  formed  witlings  whom  they 
aimed  to  crush.  But  to  imagine  that  Burns  lived  in  comparative 
neglect  while  these  apes  were  attracting  notice  by  their  absurdities  ! 

Chesterfield,  September  23d.  —  "  Virginius." 

October  1st.  —  Looked  at  newspapers  and  wrote  to  Bunn,  taking  copy 
of  the  same,  asking  my  former  terms,  varied  only  by  the  division  of  the 
benefit  and  the  erasure  of  about  half  a  dozen  characters  from  my  list. 

Leicester,  October  3d.  —  I  walked  into  the  Market  Place,  where  I 
inquired  at  a  hosier's  shop,  the  cost  of  my  flesh-colored  pantaloons, 
and  after  some  conversation,  agreed  to  send  a  pair  as  a  pattern  from 
which  an  estimate  should  be  forwarded  to  me  at  Liverpool.  I  may 
save  a  few  pounds  in  my  professional  life,  if  it  lasts  many  years  longer, 
and  make  a  fitter  appearance  —  both  desirable  objects.  Saw  my 
baggage  put  in  the  Nottingham  coach,  and  walked  on  to  look  at  the 
Roman  milestone,  which  is  a  most  interesting  relic.  The  coach  took 
me  up,  and  a  most  stewing,  unpleasant  journey  I  had  to  Nottingham, 
where  I  arrived,  by  the  promise  of  5s.  to  the  driver,  at  half-past  five. 
Went  directly  to  the  theater,  through  a  crowded  fair,  and  found  my 
trunks  there  —  dressed  in  good  time,  and  under  the  circumstances  of 
my  day  acted  tolerably  well  the  intolerable  Virginius.  In  paying  me 

after  the  play,  although  there  was  a  very  good  house,  Mrs.  M 

made  a  mistake,  a  very  palpable  one  of  £1,  which  I  did  not  allow  to 
pass.  Went  to  my  lodgings,  which  I  found  comfortable  enough,  and 
was  glad  indeed  to  get  into  my  bed.  Surprised  and  delighted  at  the 
unexpected  good  house  to  which  I  had  acted. 

Nottingham,  October  4th.  —  "Hamlet." 

Liverpool,  October  Gth.  —  I  rehearsed  Macbeth  with  particular  care, 
and  with  a  freedom  of  deportment  and  freshness  of  manner,  that  grati- 
fied me  in  causing  me  to  believe  in  the  perception  of  my  improvement. 
Miss  Huddart  was  the  Lady  Macbeth. 

Laid  out  my  dress,  giving  parts  of  it  to  Marshall  to  mend,  and  after 
dinner  went  to  bed,  being  anxious  to  play  well ;  slept  sound  and  went 


1834.  LIVERPOOL.  319 

to  the  theater  much  refreshed.  Dressed  in  good  time,  was  cool  and 
self-possessed,  and  played  with  a  truth,  grace,  and  energy,  that  I  think 
should  place  this  as  the  best  representation  I  have  yet  given  of  Mac- 
beth. The  audience,  proverbially  the  most  insensible  and  apathetic 
of  any,  seemed  to  feel  it,  for  they  went  with  the  stream  that  bore  me 
on,  and  became  so  much  excited  that,  after  much  applause,  they  be- 
came tumultuous  for  my  re-appearance  —  a  very  unusual  practice  here ; 
and  at  Clarke's  request,  I  went  on  to  make  my  bow  before  them. 

1th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  dressed  leisurely  —  a  great 
tranquillizer  of  the  nerves  —  and  began  the  part  of  Werner  with  a 
feeling  of  indisposition  to  the  task  ;  thought  on  the  necessity  for  ex- 
ertion and  pains  in  continuing  my  improvement,  and  performed  the 
character  in  my  very  best  manner,  though  a  little  checked  and  annoyed 
by  the  inattention  of  the  performers.  Had  the  sense  to  banish  once 
or  twice  a  tendency  to  ill-humor,  for  which  I  feel  thankful.  Dr.  Lard- 
ner  came  into  my  room  and  chatted  with  me  for  some  time. 

8th.  —  Felt  considerably  tired  from  the  exertion  of  last  night,  and 
was  confirmed  in  my  opinion  of  the  necessity  of  intervals  of  rest  in  a 
week's  labors.  Gave  Marshall  my  dress  for  Sardanapalus  to  alter, 
and  went  to  rehearsal,  where  I  took  pains  with  my  character  and 
hoped  to  satisfy  myself  as  well  at  night.  Went  to  the  theater,  where 
I  found  a  most  wretched  house ;  this  was  a  sad  surprise  and  damp  to 
my  hopes,  as  I  regarded  my  engagement's  success  as  depending  on  this 
night.  It  staggered  me,  but  I  did  not  permit  it  to  hang  upon  my 
spirits,  but  went  through  the  part  of  Sardanapalus  with  as  much  spirit 

as  the  wet  blanket  of  Mr.  W ,  a  miserable  pretender  to  his  art, 

would  allow  to  burst  forth ;  and,  indeed,  the  performance  was  a  very 
fair  one.  But  the  house !  the  house !  I  was  almost  vexed.  Dr. 
Lardner  came  into  my  room,  and  interested  me  with  an  account  of  the 
hospitable  arrangement  of  Edinburgh,  upon  the  meeting  of  the  savans 
there.  Returning  home,  half  fretful  (which  I  had  no  right  to  be,  for  I 
have  made  a  speculation  which  has  failed  whilst  others  have  suc- 
ceeded), I  read  the  "  Examiner  "  and,  on  going  to  bed,  a  scene  from 
Racine's  "  Iphigenie." 

$th.  —  Rose  with  sore  and  almost  fretful  feelings  on  the  utter  neg- 
lect I  experience  in  this  place,  but  a  little  reflection  —  looking  to  the 
bottom  of  the  page  —  soon  righted  my  mind,  and  with  the  quotation, 
"  Tu  ne  cede  malis,  sed  contra  audentior  ito,"  etc.,  I  went  cheerfully 
to  the  work  of  my  toilet.  The  falling  off  in  the  week's  revenue  made 
me  think  of  relinquishing  the  plan  I  had  formed  of  spending  Saturday 
and  Sunday  at  some  bathing-place  in  the  neighborhood,  but  my  state 
of  body  seems  to  require  some  such  restorative.  Wrote  a  little  and 
went  to  rehearsal,  where  I  took  pains,  and  pleased  myself  with  my 
manner  of  going  through  Virginius.  Applied  to  Clarke  and  Lewis  to 
let  me  off  from  Tuesday,  but  I  learn  the  danger  of  ever  yielding  a 
straw  to  these  managers  ;  they  never  will  relinquish  what  they  once 
obtain. 

Laid  out  my  clothes  for  the  theater,  and  went  there.     Languid,  op- 


320  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1834. 

pressed,  and  dispirited,  I  felt  when  dressed  quite  unequal  to  acting, 
and  when  I  saw  the  miserable  house  before  me,  I  sunk  lower  still.  I 
can  bear  up  very  well  against  indifference  of  this  sort  until  my  strength 
begins  to  decline  under  my  labor,  and  then  the  body  and  mind  act 
upon  each  other.  I  thought  of  the  duty  that  was  upon  me  to  try  and 
do  my  best,  if  only  to  reap  the  benefit  of  study  from  the  night.  I  did 
my  best,  and  acted  very  fairly  the  old  drag,  Virginius.  Considering 
circumstances,  I  cannot  help  lamenting  my  visit,  which  has  sold  for  a 
paltry  sum  what  in  two  more  years  might  have  been  a  great  chance. 

10th.  —  Went  to  the  rehearsal  of  Wolsey  and  felt  my  cold  very  bad. 
Whilst  at  the  theater  Clarke  told  me  of  the  "  Liverpool  Mercury,"  my 
systematic  defamer,  having  turned  round  and  spoken  of  me  as  the  best 
actor  of  the  day  —  this  was  wonderful.  Received  letter  from  Leicester 
about  my  flesh  pantaloons.  Came  home  and  continued  my  writing ; 
sent  for  the  "  Mercury,"  which  I  read.  At  the  theater  I  found  my  cold 
very  troublesome,  being  obliged  to  take  a  handkerchief  on  the  stage  ; 
acted  Sardanapalus,  but  tamely,  to  a  very  indifferent  house. 

1 3th.  —  Wolsey  and  William  Tell.     1  ±th.  —  Werner. 

[October  20th  to  November  17th.  —  Engagement  at  Dublin.] 

October  31st.  —  Met  at  Colonel  D'Aguilar's,  Bulwer,  whom  I  liked 
very  much ;  Sir  Hussey  Vivian,  whom  I  thought  very  amiable  and 
agreeable  ;  Major  Forster  and  Mrs.  Forster,  whom  I  was  struck  with 
for  her  animation  and  smartness,  whom  I  should  like  very  much  as 
any  other  man's  wife  though  not  so  well  as  my  own.  I  passed  a 
very  pleasant  day.  Bulwer  was  quite  what  Sheil  described  him,  very 
good-natured,  and  of  course  intelligent.  I  was  amused  by  an  anec- 
dote he  reported  of  Hume  accosting  Lord  Hill  at  the  fire  of  Westmin- 
ster Hall,  "  My  lord,  my  lord,  there  are  but  eight  pioneers  here,  and 
the  country  pays  for  ten ! "  Sir  H.  Vivian  spoke  with  great  confi- 
dence on  the  probable  collision  of  the  two  houses  before  two  years 
had  passed.  I  urged  Bulwer  to  write  a  play ;  he  told  me  he  had 
written  one,  great  part  of  which  was  lost,  on  the  death  of  Cromwell. 
In  the  drawing-room  I  found  Colonel  Mitchell,  with  whom  I  got  into 
a  long  conversation,  and  from  whom  I  heard  first  of  the  basaltic  col- 
umns in  Auvergne.  Saw  Lady  Vivian,  but  came  not  near  her.  Got 
into  an  amusing  discussion  with  a  very  intelligent  naive  young  lady, 
Colonel  D'Aguilar,  and  Mitchell,  on  moral  philosophy,  in  which  I  was 
greatly  entertained  by  the  young  lady's  pertinent  observations  and 
acuteness.  Bulwer  offered  to  set  me  down,  and  hoped  to  meet  me  in 
London. 

November  IQth. —  Went  to  the  theater,  where,  on  dressing,  I  was 
seized  with  a  violent  bowel  complaint ;  obliged  to  send  for  brandy, 
which  affected  my  head.  I  played,  as  might  be  expected,  very  un- 
equally, a  want  of  finish  from  a  want  of  collectedness ;  but  in  the  last 
scene,  "  Macbeth,"  I  was  very  good,  grand  in  my  death  —  I  felt  it. 
My  soul  would  have  lived  on  from  very  force  of  will :  death  could  not 
have  been  felt  by  a  man  so  resolute  to  resist  it. 

12th.  —  Went  to  the  theater  collected  and  at  ease,  but  not  with  that 


1834.  DUBLIN.  321 

certainty  of  preserving  the  tout  ensemble  that  I  am  in  the  characters 
of  Shakespeare  ambitious  of  doing.  I  felt  confident  of  being  very  fair, 
but  not  entirely  Hamlet.  My  performance  seemed  to  give  great  satis- 
faction, and  there  were  a  great  many  things  that  I  did  really  well  — 
scenes  that  I  played  well.  Some  of  the  first  act  was  good,  but  wants 
improvement  and  finish.  The  second  act  was  on  the  whole  good,  par- 
ticularly the  concluding  soliloquy,  from  time  and  self-possession.  The 
third  act  had  much  to  praise,  the  soliloquy,  scene  with  Ophelia,  part 
of  advice,  part  of  closet  scene  ;  the  rest  was  to  me  unsatisfactory.  The 
grave  scene  was  not  good  till  the  entrance  of  Laertes  ;  the  death  was 
very  well  and  the  whole  of  the  last  scene.  Calcraft  came  into  my 
room,  and  seemed  quite  satisfied  in  thinking  this  will  be  one  of  my  Dub- 
lin plays  —  it  ought  to  be,  for  there  is  more  thought  in  it  than  in  all  I 
do.  Supped  on  oysters. 

13th.  —  Went  to  the  theater  to  rehearse  Lear,  which  I  did  very 
badly,  and,  what  is  worse,  in  a  very  bad  temper  ;  ridiculous  as  it  is,  I 
really  believe  the  cause  of  it,  at  least  principally,  was  the  sight  of  my 
neat  book  in  the  dirty  prompter's  hands,  suffering  with  every  turning 
of  the  leaves.  Read  a  note  for  tickets  from  Mr.  Macnamara,  and  also 
from  Lady  C.  Whiteford.  Notes  from  James  about  freedom  of  the 

city  and  coat  of  arms,  and  from  a  young  ass  called  M wishing  to 

play  Edgar  for  my  night. 

17th. — Dressed  and  went  on  the  stage  prepared  to  act  my  best,  and 
resolute  to  do  so,  but  such  a  Babel  of  a  house  was  scarcely  ever  heard ; 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  "  King  Lear  "  and  through  the  inter- 
lude of  the  screen  scene  of  "  School  for  Scandal  "  almost  all  was  dumb 
show.  Colonel  D'Aguilar  came  round  in  despair.  I  had  to  go  on  to 
address  them.  I  told  them  I  had  the  greatest  pleasure  in  playing  be- 
fore them  when  they  chose  to  be  an  audience,  and  how  ambitious  I  was 
to  uphold  myself  in  their  opinion.  It  must  have  been  the  only  enter- 
tainment of  the  evening.  I  made  gratuities  to  the  servants,  shook 
hands  with  those  actors  I  saw.  Came  home.  Woulds  called  and 
supped,  and  we  signed  the  agreement  of  partnership.  Quodfelix  sit. 

\%th.  —  On  board  for  England.     To  Liverpool. 

\%th.  —  Got  on  shore  about  9  o'clock,  took  a  car  up  to  the  Angel 
Inn,  where  I  breakfasted,  and  read  the  newspaper  account  of  the 
discharge  of  the  Ministry.  The  question  that  rises  to  me  on  this  is 
simply,  how  long  will  men  permit  such  an  impious  and  inequitable 
arrangement  as  the  possession  of  power  by  any  one  man  or  set  of 
men  without  the  severest  responsibility  ? 

Dined  and  went  to  the  theater  to  see  if  there  was  anything  decent 
there.  The  play  was  "  Brutus,"  and  a  brute  part  of  him  that  played 
it  —  Tarquinia  —  all  very  miserable.  A  Miss  Lidesq,  a  dancer,  and  a 
Mr.  Simpson,  in  an  old  man,  were  the  sole  exceptions  to  the  general 
badness  of  the  company.  Hammond,  who  was  a  good  actor,  has  spoiled 
himself  by  managing ;  let  me  not  forget  that ! 

Lincoln,  November  20th.  —  "  Virginius." 

21st.—  "Stranger." 
21 


322  MACREADrS  DIARIES.  1834. 

22<f.  —  Was  stopped  by  letters,  to  my  great  surprise,  from  Bunn, 
and  from  Mrs.  Macready.  The  first  was  an  attempt  by  a  proposal, 
which  I  did  not  understand,  to  restore  the  negotiation  ;  the  other  was 
a  carte  blanche  to  act,  in  the  case  of  auxiliaries,  as  I  thought  best  for 
her  interest.  I  replied  to  Bunn,  that  I  was  so  far  engaged  I  could 
make  him  no  direct  answer,  and  that  I  would  wait  and  see  him  in  town  ; 
kept  copy. 

At  dinner  I  proceeded  in  the  perusal  of  "  Eugene  Aram,"  which  in- 
terests me  extremely,  although  what  I  knew  of  the  sterner,  more  terri- 
ble, and  more  vulgar  reality  —  I  allude  to  the  vulgarity  of  the  persons, 
and  the  sordid  nature  of  the  motive  —  contrasted  with  the  insatiable 
thirst  for  knowledge  in  that  extraordinary  man. 

23d. —  At  10,  Mr.  Robertson  called  and,  having  paid  my  bill  and 
posted  my  letters,  I  got  a  sight  of  the  gorgeous  front  of  the  cathedral 
and  the  Heaven's  Gate  as  I  passed  down  to  the  river.  This  canal-like 
stream,  the  Witham,  embanked  on  both  sides,  offers  no  variety  of  pros- 
pect ;  the  cattle  in  the  water  or  grazing  along  its  sides,  a  horseman  on 
the  bank,  recall  Cuyp  and  Wouverman  to  one's  recollection,  and  afford 
us  a  guess  at  what  Holland  must  be.  We  walked  six  miles,  sometimes 
turning  to  look  upon  the  regally-sited  cathedral,  which  alone  is  worth 
a  visit  to  this  city,  and  constantly  enjoying  the  freshness  of  the  brisk 
cool  air,  the  beauty  of  the  morning,  and  our  exhilarating  exercise.  On 
getting  into  the  boat,  which  we  did  by  a  small  one  let  out  from  a  wind- 
lass, I  reconnoitered  the  cabin  and,  finding  it  too  close  for  me,  got  a 
seat  to  leeward  and  proceeded  with  "  Eugene  Aram  ;  "  I  read  till  the 
light  would  serve  me  no  longer,  and,  after  paying  3s.  for  my  passage, 
was  conducted  from  the  boat  by  Mr.  Robertson  to  my  inn  at  Boston. 
I  found  the  "  Globe,"  which  I  read  through,  and  having  dined  returned 
once  more  to  "  Eugene  Aram,"  which  I  finished ;  it  has  afforded  me 
great  pleasure.  I  took  it  up  in  order  to  see  if  it  contained  theatrical 
effects ;  I  soon  lost  sight  of  all  ideas  of  the  sort.  I  quarrel  still  with 
the  title  ;  I  cannot  but  believe  that  it  would  have  been  better  to  have 
used  the  material  of  the  story,  and  have  left  in  its  own  deep  mystery 
that  unfathomable  compound  of  good  and  ill,  of  baseness  and  exalted 
sentiments,  which  the  painfully  interesting  and  awful  character  of  Aram 
presents  to  us.  But  the  book  is  beautiful,  full  of  splendid  illustrations, 
the  sweetest  thoughts,  the  tenderest  feelings.  The  characters  of  Aram, 
Houseman,  dear  old  Lester,  and  Madeline  are  exquisitely  preserved  — 
it  cost  me  many  tears. 

JBoston,  November  24M.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  and  was  struck  dur- 
ing the  time  of  dressing,  with  the  hollow  sound  of  an  occasional  voice 
or  step.  My  fears  were  realized  by  the  most  chilling  aspect  of  a  house 
I  almost  ever  saw.  Still  I  wished  to  use  the  night  as  exercise,  and 
though  I  did  not  act  exactly  well,  yet  I  guarded  myself  very  much 
from  lapsing  into  my  frequent  vices  of  manner.  I  was  cross  and  was 
peevish,  which  was  very  impertinent,  and  quite  unprovoked. 

25th.  —  Read  several  stanzas  from  Tasso's  "  Gerusalemme,"  and  a 
section  in  Cicero's  Offices  on  the  style  and  character  of  a  man's  house, 


1834.  LOUTH—A   THIN  HOUSE.  323 

as  applicable  to  to-day  as  when  he  wrote.  I  was  much  pleased  with 
the  passage  immediately  preceding  it :  "  Rectum  est  autem,  etiam  in 
illis  contentionibus,  quae  cum  inimicissimis  fiunt,  etiam  si  nobis  indigna 
audiamus,  tamen  gravitatem  retinere,  iracundiam  repellere.  Quae  enim 
cum  aliqua  perturbatione  fiuut,  nee  constanter  fieri  possunt  nee  iis,  qui 
adsunt,  probari."  l 

Louth,  November  29lh.  —  Read  an  ode  and  part  of  an  epistle  in 
Horace.  Found  on  examining  the  current  in  which  my  thoughts  set, 
that  management  would  never  answer  for  me.  I  have  not  that  man- 
agement of  my  mind  that  would  enable  me  to  dismiss  one  subject  and 
substitute  another.  I  should  lose  my  profession  by  it ;  and  already  I 
am  alarmed  at  its  effects  in  the  possession  it  takes  of  my  thoughts. 

Walked  with  Mr.  Robertson  to  the  post-office  and  to  the  theater, 
which  answers  also  the  double  purpose  of  a  sessions-house  —  it  is  not 
the  worst  I  have  seen. 

Went  to  the  theater,  dressed  in  the  magistrates'  room,  "quite  con- 
venient." When  ready  to  go  on  the  stage,  Mr.  Robertson  appeared 
with  a  face  full  of  dismay :  he  began  to  apologize  and  I  guessed  the 
remainder.  "  Bad  house  ?  "  "  Bad,  sir,  there 's  no  one  ! "  "  What !  no- 
body at  all  ?  "  "  Not  a  soul,  sir,  except  the  Warden's  party  in  the 

boxes."  "  What,  the  d 1 !  not  one  person  in  the  pit  or  gallery  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  are  one  or  two."  "  Are  there  five  ?  "  "  Oh,  yes,  five." 
"  Then  go  on,  we  have  no  right  to  give  ourselves  airs.  If  the  people 
do  not  choose  to  come  and  see  us,  go  on  at  once !  "  Mr.  Robertson 
was  astonished  at  what  he  thought  my  philosophy,  being  accustomed, 
as  he  said,  to  be  "  blown  up  "  by  his  stars  when  the  houses  were  bad. 
I  never  acted  Virginius  better  in  all  my  life  —  good  taste  and  earnest- 
ness. Smyth,  who  was  contemporary  with  me  *at  Rugby  and  has  a 
living  in  this  neighborhood,  came  in  and  sat  with  me  and  saw  the  play, 
with  which  he  was  greatly  pleased. 

December  1st.  —  Enjoyed  my  walk  very  much;  wrote  directions  for 
my  luggage.  Dozed  from  fatigue  after  dinner  ;  wrote  a  letter  to  Ken- 
neth, made  my  toilet,  and  went  to  theater.  Felt  that  the  house  was 
not  very  good  ;  but  determined  to  make  a  study  of  the  night,  which  I 
did,  and  certainly  acted  great  part  of  Hamlet  in  a  very  true  and  im- 
pressive manner.  I  hit  upon  the  exact  feeling  in  the  passage,  which  I 
have  often  thought  on,  "  He  was  a  man,"  etc.  My  intercourse  with 
Horatio,  Rozencrantz,  Guildenstern,  etc.,  was  earnest  and  real,  ad 
homines.  Indeed,  it  was  a  good  performance.  Smyth  came  into  my 
room  after  the  play  and  talked  of  my  speaking  the  closet  scene  at 
Rugby.  He  also  told  me  of  endeavoring  to  commit  a  poacher.  He 
is  a  clergyman  !  Thought  and  calculated  for  Bath.  Read  in  Racine's 
"  Esther." 

2d.  —  "  Stranger." 

1  We  should  preserve  our  own  composure  and  avoid  anger,  even  in  contests 
with  our  greatest  enemies,  and  when  we  are  subjected  to  the  worst  affronts.  For 
what  is  done  in  disorder  cannot  be  dignified,  nor  can  it  commend  itself  to  the 
approbation  of  the  by-slanders.  Cicero  :  Offices,  I.  137.  —  ED.  TRANS. 


324  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1834. 

Sheffield,  December  9th.  —  "  Virginius." 

lOt/i.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  acted  William  Tell  only  tol- 
erably. Was  a  good  deal  distressed  by  the  actors,  imperfect  and  inat- 
tentive, and  once  or  twice  rather  angry  with  them,  but  very  kind  to 
the  poor  little  child  who  acted  with  me,  though  several  times  dis- 
concerted by  her  ;  but  this  is  from  having  children  of  my  own  —  the 
dear  ones. 

My  dresser  is  a  Benedictine  monk  on  leave  from  the  convent  in  Ire- 
land on  account  of  derangement.  His  trade  is  a  tailor. 

llth.  —  Went  to  St.  Paul's  Church  to  look  upon  the  spot  where  the 
remains  of  my  beloved  mother  lie,  and  breathed  a  prayer  over  them 
for  the  peace  and  virtue  of  me  and  mine,  and  for  the  welfare  of  my 
dear  children,  which  again  and  again  I  implore  God  to  grant.  Acted 
Werner. 

12th.  —  "William  Tell." 

Brighton,  December  18th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where,  in  the  play 
of  "  Sardanapalus  "  not  one  person  was  perfect,  and  whenever  I  at- 
tempted effect  I  was  foiled  ;  still,  I  did  not  play  well,  and  want  study. 
Heard  the  news  of  Mr.  J.  Webster  taking  fright  at  Ulric,  and,  in  con- 
sequence, the  play  of  "  Werner  "  cannot  be  done  to-morrow  —  pleas- 
ant !  Was  told  of  Polhill  having  retired  from  Drury  Lane  on  paying 
£2,000  ;  this  I  suppose  is  not  the  exact  truth,  or  all  of  it,  but  there  is 
some  truth  in  it. 

\%th.  —  At  the  theater  I  packed  up  my  bag,  and  dispatched  that  and 
my  deal  case  to  the  coach  office.  Acted  the  Stranger  very  well,  with 
reality,  collectedness,  force,  and  feeling ;  kept  my  eyes  open  and  was 
careful  throughout.  Mr.  Bew  came  in  to  pay  me  my  small  earnings, 
which  nevertheless  I  take  very  thankfully.  Paid  the  servants,  but 
forgot  one,  so  wrote  a  note  to  Mr.  Strickland  to  ask  him  to  pay  it 
for  me. 

Elstree,  December  30th.  —  Gathered  my  papers  together  preparatory 
to  my  departure,  and  settled  my  accounts  with  Letitia  and  self ;  bring 
the  year's  expenditure  and  receipt  to  a  balance,  for  which  I  have  great 
reason  to  be  thankful  to  Almighty  God.  Arranged  the  business  of  to- 
morrow, and  endeavored  to  think  of  something  for  the  hiatus  in  the 
Bath  season.  Went  out  to  examine  the  hay-rick,  which  I  found  most 
shamefully  handled,  and  learnt  that  the  good  hay  alone  was  taken ; 
gave  orders  to  make  them  take  all  or  none.  Looked  at  fences  and 
walked  round  the  garden.  Came  in  and  packed  up  my  clothes,  which 
occupied  me  a  considerable  time  ;  finished  the  arrangement  and  cutting 
of  the  book  of  "  King  Henry  V."  into  three  acts.  Prepared  my  ac- 
count books  for  next  year,  and  made  my  will  in  order  that  no  mistake 
might  be  made  by  acting  on  my  former  ones. 


1835.  BATH.  325 


1835. 

[The  following  extracts  are  copied  into  the  beginning  of  the  Diary 
for  1835 :] 

Nbn  possidentem  multa  vocaveris 
Recte  beatum  ;  rectius  occupat 
Nomen  bead,  qui  deorum 

Muneribus  sapienter  uti, 
Duramque  callet  pauperiem  pati, 
Pejusque  leto  flagitium  timet : 
Non  ille  pro  caris  amicis 
Aut  patria  timidus  perire.1 


Esto  bonus  miles,  tutor  bonus,  arbiter  idem 
Integer.    Ambiguae  si  quando  citabere  testis 
Incertaeque  rei,  Phalaris  licet  impei'et,  ut  sis 
Falsus,  et  admoto  dictet  perjuria  tauro, 
Summum  crede  nefas  animam  prseferre  pudori, 
Et  propter  vitam  vivendi  perdere  causas.2 


The  primal  duties  shine  aloft,  like  stars  ; 

The  charities  that  soothe,  and  heal,  and  bless, 

Are  scattered  at  the  feet  of  man  —  like  flowers.  —  Wordsworth. 

Bath,  January  \st.  —  With  gratitude  to  Almighty  God  for  His  past 
bounties  and  with  prayers  for  continuance  of  His  mercies  to  me  and 
mine,  I  begin  this  year.  That  it  may  please  Him  to  let  me  profit  by 
the  experience  of  those  I  have  lived,  and  restrain  my  remaining  years 
within  the  bounds  of  temperance  and  prudence,  educating  my  children 
in.  His  faith  and  love  and  fear,  and  bequeathing  to  them,  through  His 
mercy,  the  means  of  comfort  and  an  honorable  example.  Amen. 

5th.  —  Went  to  theater,  and  fell  into  ill-humor  with  the  old  and  in- 
capable hair-dresser :  dismissed  him,  but  sent  for  him  again,  not  wish- 

1  The  lord  of  boundless  revenues, 

Salute  him  not  as  happy  :  no, 
Call  him  the  happy  who  can  use 

The  bounty  that  the  gods  bestow ; 
Can  bear  the  load  of  poverty, 

And  tremble  not  at  death,  but  sin  : 
No  recreant  he  when  called  to  die 

In  cause  of  country  or  of  kin.  —  Conington. 

Horace,  Ad  Lollium,  4th  Bk.  Ode  IX. 

2  Be  a  good  soldier,  and  a  guardian  just, 
An  upright  judge.    If  in  a  doubtful  cause 
As  witness  called,  though  Phalaris  command 
Falsehoods,  and  dictate  perjury,  his  bull 

At  hand  to  torture,  hold  it  infamous 
Life  to  prefer  to  honor,  and,  for  sake 
Of  living,  sacrifice  the  ends  of  life.  —  ED.  TRANS. 

Juvenal,  8th  Sat.  v.  79. 


326  MACREADY>S  DIARIES.  1835. 

ing  to  distress  or  offend  him.  He  made  a  figure  of  me !  I  acted,  as  I 
thought,  the  first  scene  of  "Macbeth"  well,  but  the  audience  were 
perfectly  apathetic,  and  in  the  second  became  vulgarly  unquiet.  This 
unhinged  me,  and  I  did  not  recover  myself  the  whole  night.  I  am 
ready  to  ascribe  the  greater  share  of  blame  to  myself,  but  the  audience 
were  like  no  other  I  ever  saw  ;  they  did  not  notice  me  on  my  first  en- 
trance, —  on  the  bridge,  —  and  very  indifferently  afterwards.  I  acted 
very  ill,  but  better  than  such  an  audience  deserved,  which  is  not  say- 
ing much.  The  play  was  excellently  done. 

§th.  —  Occupied  at  the  theater  from  ten  till  quarter  past  three,  — 
saw  old  Mr.  Taylor,  who  seemed  very  sanguine,  good  old  man,  about 
the  success  of  the  speculation.  I  certainly  am  not.  On  a  rough  cal- 
culation of  my  expectations  from  the  prospect  afforded  by  the  present 
receipts,  I  think  the  chances  are  rather  against  a  balance  in  favor  than 
for  it,  and  if  in  favor  I  think  it  must  be  very  small,  and  not  at  all 
worth  my  time  and  trouble.  Dixi. 

7th.  —  «  Werner." 

8^.  —  Acted  Othello  with  a  feeling  of  having  no  sympathy  from 
my  audience ;  thought  myself  deficient  in  earnestness  and  spirit,  but 
do  not  regret  having  done  it,  as  it  was  a  useful  rehearsal  to  me.  I 
never  saw  the  "  Senate  "  put  so  well  upon  the  stage.  I  think  I  may 
play  Othello  well,  but  the  prescriptive  criticism  of  this  country,  in 
looking  for  particular  points  instead  of  contemplating  one  entire  char- 
acter, abates  my  confidence  in  myself.  Mr.  Woulds  told  me  that  he 
had  heard  from  Mr.  Field  of  general  discontent  at  the  prices  being 
restored.  The  house  to-night  was  wretched,  but  what  could  be  ex- 
pected at  such  a  time  ? 

9th.  —  Heard  from  Mr.  Woulds  the  account  of  the  first  week's  bal- 
ance, which  was  very  satisfactory.  Read  the  newspaper,  and  to  my 
astonishment  and  satisfaction  saw  Talfourd  member  for  Reading ! 

10th.—  "William  Tell." 

I2t/i.  —  "Virginius." 

13^.  — "Werner." 

15lh.  —  Went  into  box-office  and  was  surprised  and  gratified  to  see 
so  excellent  a  box-sheet,  which  I  hope  is  an  omen  of  future  success. 
Coming  to  my  lodgings  I  amused  myself  with  my  darling  children,  and 
after  dinner  sent  a  note  to  Mr.  Woulds,  reminding  him  of  some  chairs 
required  in  the  farce.  Read  my  part,  which  I  was  anxious  to  play 
well. 

Acted  Henry  V.  more  good-humoredly  than  I  have  ever  done,  and 
with  very  considerable  spirit,  and  much  self-possession.  I  was  once 
out  in  a  response,  through  anxiety  about  the  general  effect.  After  the 
play  went  into  the  private  box  where  Catherine  was  sitting,  and  saw 
two  acts  of  "  Married  Life  "  with  her.  Was  very  much  pleased  to  see 
so  good  a  house. 

1 6th.  —  The  receipt  of  last  night  was  so  good,  that  it  has  very  much 
raised  my  hopes  as  to  the  success  of  the  season. 

17th.  —  "Lear." 


1835.  BRISTOL—  MANCHESTER.  327 


.  —  Saw  Dowton  at  rehearsal,  who  complimented  me  on  Lear, 
and  gave  me  to  understand  that  my  assumption  of  age  was  good,  which 
much  pleased  me.  During  the  rehearsal,  with  which  I  took  much 
pains,  I  laid  by  and  put  out  my  clothes  :  returned  much  fatigued, 
having  been  gratified  with  the  sight  of  a  very  fair  box-sheet.  Went 
to  the  theater,  where,  whilst  I  was  dressing,  Stan  field  came  in  to  see 
me.  He  gave  me  a  sad  account  of  Bunn,  whom  he  had  left,  and 
hoped  I  should  not  return  to  London  this  season  —  also  of  the  lacera- 
tion of  Wallack  by  the  newspapers,  which  he  seemed  to  think  exceed- 
ing in  severity.  Was  quite  disposed  to  act  Hotspur,  well  on  every 
account,  and  spoke  the  two  first  speeches  better  than  I  ever  did  before, 
but  Worcester  was  imperfect  and  knocked  me  up  ;  Lady  Percy,  the 
same  ;  Sir  R.  Vernon,  the  same.  I  made  the  best  of  it  I  could,  and 
the  fight  rallied  the  house.  Dowton  was  the  Falstaflf.  Was  angry  at 
the  slovenly  state  of  the  play.  Spoke  to  Mr.  Woulds  about  noticing 
the  behavior  of  the  defaulters,  but,  as  usual,  the  same  answers. 

24th.  —  Lord  Townley. 

To  Bristol,  January  26^.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  and  acted  Mac- 
beth extremely  well,  with  earnestness,  care,  and  feeling  :  never  before 
spoke  the  "  To-morrow  and  to-morrow  "  with  such  truth. 

Dowton  (!)  made  a  complaint  that  his  name  was  in  smaller  letters 
than  mine,  and  wrote  the  same  to  the  prompter. 

[30th  to  6th  February.  —  Continued  engagement  at  Bristol  and 
Bath.] 

Manchester,  February  13th.  —  Went  to  the  theater  and  was  pleased 
to  see  so  good  a  house.  I  should  have  got  much  more  by  sharing  —  • 
no  matter  :  it  is  very  well,  thank  God  !  Acted  well  Werner,  and  was 
very  much  applauded. 

15th.  —  I  made  up  the  cast  of  next  week's  business  at  Bath,  settled 
all  and  wrote  the  heading  of  the  bill,  which  I  inclosed  to  Mr.  Woulds. 
Received  letters  with  receipts  and  balance  up  to  Friday  at  Bath  ;  from 
Mr.  Fox,  respecting  the  MS.  play  sent  to  me,  in  whose  letter  Cath- 
erine wrote  a  hasty  greeting. 

16^.  —  "Werner." 

17th.  —  "  Sardanapalus." 

18th.  —  Arrived  at  Halifax.  Went  to  rehearsal;  poor  Guildenstern 
had  only  one  eye.  From  rehearsal,  one  of  the  actors,  Mr.  Nantz, 
went  with  me  to  show  me  the  Gibbet  Hill,  where  the  stone  on  which 
the  criminals  laid  their  heads  is  still  visible,  though  deeply  embedded 
in  earth  :  from  thence  he  accompanied  me  to  a  public-house,  formerly 
the  Gaol,  and  now  called  the  Jail  Inn,  where  the  blade  of  the  axe 
called  the  Maiden,  was  shown  to  me  ;  it  is  very  like  the  blade  of  a 

spade  with  two  holes  in  it.     0    Not  so  weighty  as  I  should  suppose 

its  office  would  require. 

To  .Manchester,  February  19th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  acted  Wer- 
ner in  my  very  best  manner.  The  house,  which  was  good,  and  would 
have  been  very  fine  but  for  the  weather,  evidently  came  to  see  the 


328  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1835. 

play.  They  gave  tneir  deepest  attention  and  applause,  which  I  strove 
to  deserve  from  them ;  I  was  often  very  real.  A  letter  from  dear 
Catherine.  Packed  up  some  of  my  boxes.  Took  place  to  Birming- 
ham. Sent  papers  to  Smith  and  Forster. 

20M. —  I  went  to  see  Mr.  David  Holt's  cotton-mill:  the  machinery 
for  carding  the  wool,  for  spinning,  winding,  is  most  wonderful,  but  the 
sight  of  so  many  young  people  confined  to  such  monotonous  labor  in 
such  an  atmosphere,  and  the  reflection  on  the  quantity  of  human  life 
and  intellect  that  is  thus,  like  part  of  the  machinery,  worn  away,  was 
very  painful. 

To  Whitworth's  machinery  manufactory.  The  methods  of  planing 
iron,  making  iron  worms,  and  above  all,  the  machine  for  making  pins, 
were  so  many  wonders  to  me,  delighting  as  they  surprised  me.  The 
two  pieces  of  iron,  of  surfaces  so  exactly  similar  that  they  adhered  on 
being  placed  together  and  revolved  upon  a  hair  placed  between  them, 
was  an  interesting  instance  of  a  philosophical  truth.  We  proceeded  to 
Dyer's  machinery  for  making  the  cards  for  cotton.  Here  was  another 
wonder  and  delight.  Called  in  at  the  "  Lloyd's  "  of  Manchester,  a  very 
handsome  room  with  excellent  accommodation.  Heard  the  cheering 
news  of  Sir  R.  Peel's  defeat  in  Abercromby's  election  (as  Speaker). 
Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  found  letters  from  Letty  in  a  frank  from 

Forster  inclosing  a  request  from  Mr.  W ,  formerly  30th  Foot,  to 

procure  him  any,  the  humblest  situation  in  some  theater,  so  dreadfully 
was  he  reduced  by  his  extravagance  and  thoughtlessness. 

21st. —  To  Birmingham. 

Bath,  Feltruary  22d.  —  Left  Birmingham  at  quarter  past  seven  and 
passed  a  very  uninteresting  day  ;  nothing  in  the  passengers  and  the 
country  through  which  we  passed  to  awaken  thought,  except  a  glance 
or  two  at  Malvern  and  the  church  at  Bromsgrove  which  seemed  worth 
looking  at.  Went  over  the  two  parts  of  Ford  and  Gambia ;  took  up 
the  "  Globe  "  at  Gloucester,  where  I  read  the  Tory  and  Reforming 
statements  of  the  "  gloom  "  and  "  ecstasies "  into  which  the  vote  on 
the  Speakership  had  thrown  the  country.  It  seems  to  me  that  the 
real  ground  on  which  this  question  is  based  is  this  —  whatever  it  may 
originally  have  been,  whether  a  question  of  party  or  principle,  it  was 
now  made  a  test  of  political  principle  by  the  importance  which  the 
Tory  advocates  gave  to  it,  and  the  clamor  they  raised  in  anticipating 
their  certain  triumph.  Came  on  to  Bristol.  A  Mr.  John  Smith,  of 
the  "  Liverpool  Mercury,"  claimed  acquaintance  with  me ;  he  was 
civil,  but  I  never  saw  the  man  before.  Was  obliged  to  wait  at  Bristol 
for  a  coach,  which  brought  me  to  Bath  by  ten  o'clock.  Found  dear 
Catherine  and  children  quite  well.  A  letter  from  Letitia.  Talked 
much.  Tired :  to  bed. 

23d.  —  Gambia.  Went  to  rehearsal,  where  I  found  the  play  in  a 
very  disgraceful  state  —  was  detained  by  it  to  a  late  hour.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Woulds  wished  to  speak  to  me  ;  they  did  speak  an  "  infinite  deal 
of  nothing,"  which  ended  in  his  declaration  of  his  intention,  drawn  out 
by  his  wife's  corkscrewing  demands  upon  his  speech,  to  retain  the 


1835.  EDWARD  IRVING.  329 

management  upon  the  original  footing.  I  could  not  escape  from  them 
till  four  o'clock :  I  then  passed  through  the  lobby,  where  I  saw  the 
box-book  —  the  front  rows  were  not  filled!  Despairing  and  worn 
down  in  spirit  I  came  to  my  lodgings ;  dined ;  without  time  to  rest 
returned  to  theater,  where  I  acted  Gambia  in  the  "  Slave  "  really  well 
—  earnestly  and  really.  The  house  was  a  few  shillings  over  £50 ! 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Woulds  again  detained  me  ;  I  recommended  urging  the 
season  to  a  close  with  all  possible  speed.  They  still  seemed  to  hesi- 
tate, but  my  mind  is  made  up. 

2Qth.  —  Hamlet.     28th.  —  Rob  Roy. 

Bristol,  March  2d.  —  Acted  Hamlet  in  my  very  best  manner  to  a 
very  good  house,  and  in  my  own  voice.  Saw  Mr.  Lovell ;  talked  with 
him  about  his  play. 

5th. —  Rob  Roy. 

Bath,  March  Qtk.  —  Oakley.     1th.  —  Sardanapalus. 

Bristol,  March  9th.  —  Took  a  fly  up  to  the  M 's,  where  I  found 

an  early  dinner  prepared.  Before  M 's  arrival,  Mrs.  M com- 
municated to  me  a  piece  .of  information  that  surprised  and  grieved  me : 
no  other  than  that  Mr.  M had  lately  been  in  frequent  conversa- 
tion with  one  of  Irving's  followers,  and  had  been  brought  to  believe  in 
his  doctrine  —  declaring  that  this  was  the  "  True  Church."  How  ex- 
traordinary and  lamentable  it  is  that  this  trick  and  trade  of  men,  called 
doctrine,  should  so  bewilder  the  understanding  and  occupy  the  minds 
of  men,  which  ought  to  be  concentrated  on  the  endeavor  to  enlarge 
their  comprehension  to  a  due  conception  of  the  infinite  love  and  power 
of  the  Creator,  and  upon  the  zealous  labor  of  offering  Him  the  most 
acceptable  kind  of  adoration  —  which  is  by  ascertaining  and  rigidly 
acting  on  the  best  system  of  morals.  I  dined  and  remained  till  five, 

when  M brought  me  to  the  theater  in  his  carriage,  and  took  leave 

of  me.  I  acted  very  fairly  the  Stranger  and  Petruchio  to  a  very  fair 
house.  Daniel  came  in  to  say  farewell.  The  audience  called  for  me, 
and  would  not  be  content.  I  had  to  go  on  in  my  traveling  dress  and 
take  my  leave  of  them.  Made  gratuities  to  the  servants,  and  left  with 
regret  dear  old  Bristol. 

Bath,  March  10th.  —  Henry  IV. 

15th. —  Forster  told  me  of  Talfourd  having  completed  a  tragedy 
called  "  Ion."  What  an  extraordinary,  what  an  indefatigable  man ! 

Salisbury,  March  16th.  —  Tried  to  act  Macbeth,  but,  "  confusion  to 
my  Lady ! "  it  was  too  farcical,  and  would  have  been  good  as  Dolla- 
lolla,  but  quite  a  travestie  in  the  part  she  played. 

My  spirits  have  been  much  depressed ;  the  heavy  labor  of  my  on- 
ward life,  indispensable  to  secure  my  blessed  children's  independence, 
makes  more  uncertain  the  fulfillment  of  my  desire  to  watch  over  and 
direct  their  education ;  but  the  consideration  of  the  truth  condensed  in 
the  precept,  "  To  thine  own  self  be  true,  and  it  must  follow  as  the  night 
the  day,  thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man,"  has  comforted  and 
re-assured  me. 

17th.  —  After  rehearsal  I  walked  to  Brodie's  shop,  the  bookseller, 


330  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1835. 

printer,  banker,  member  of  parliament,  etc.,  of  this  city.  I  like  to  see 
such  a  choice.  Bought  guide  and  history  of  Salisbury,  and  experi- 
enced great  attention  from  the  gentleman  in  the  shop ;  read  the  papers 
there.  Went  to  the  next  door  to  see  a  Gothic  banqueting-hall,  which 
had  been  many  years  built  up,  but  was  now  restored  to  its  original 
form  and  decoration ;  it  was  very  interesting  as  the  hall  of  a  merchant 
and  shows  the  wealth  of  this  city  in  earlier  times. 

18th. —  Hamlet. 

19^.  — Werner. 

Salisbury  to  London,  March  20th.  —  Called  at  Brodie's,  where  I 
bought  a  book  of  extracts  from  Dryden  to  read  on  my  journey,  the 
gentleman  in  the  shop  was,  as  before,  extremely  obliging,  gave  me  the 
papers  to  read,  and  chatted.  I  parted  with  him  after  he  had  taken 
down  at  his  request  my  address,  that  he  might  send  me  a  newspaper. 
Returning  to  my  lodgings,  paid  a  very  extortionate  bill  and  made 
gratuities  to  the  servants.  Pope  (the  actor),  I  perceive,  is  dead  — 
de  mortuis  nil  nisi  bonum.  The  coach  called  for  me,  and  looking 
occasionally  at  the  beautiful  spire  of  the  cathedral,  and  at  some  rude 
fortifications  on  the  road,  my  day  was  occupied  with  Dryden,  most 
tranquilly  and  pleasingly.  Few  of  his  poems  are  completely  unexcep- 
tionable, but  what  transcendent  passages  are  to  be  found  in  almost  all ! 
The  opening  of  the  ode  on  Mrs.  Anne  Killigrew,  many  lines  in  it,  and 
the  close  are  of  the  highest  order ;  on  the  death  of  Lady  Abingdon ; 
the  death  of  Arcite ;  Cymon  :  indeed,  all  his  more  finished  works  are 
full  of  power  and  beauty.  He  fails  most  where  he  seems  to  endeavor 
to  compete  with  Shakespeare  ;  what  mere  conceit  is  his  passage  on 
Death  after  Claudio's  freezing  guess  at  its  horrors !  He  afforded  me 
great  amusement  and  I  hope  some  instruction.  I  did  not  quite  agree 
in  his  criticism  on  Horace  and  Juvenal,  but  that  is  probably  from  my 
imperfect  acquaintance  with  them.  Reached  London  in  good  time. 

Elstree,  March  23d.  —  My  dear  boy  continuing  unwell,  and  Cath- 
erine uneasy  and  trying  experiments  in  medicine  on  him,  I  thought  it 
better  to  send  him  at  once  to  town.  Horses  were  sent  for  and  the 
party  set  off. 

I  took  up  the  novel  of  "  Pelham  "  again,  which  interested  me  less 
from  its  story  than  from  the  maxims  and  deductions  which  the  reader 
is  enabled  to  draw  from  it,  among  these,  not  among  the  least  profitable, 
if  well  weighed  and  duly  acted  on,  is  that  wise  remark,  "  Common 
sense  never  quarrels  with  any  one."  Oh,  that  I  had  early  received 
the  benefit  of  such  wise  inculcations.  Catherine,  Letty,  and  children 
returned,  bringing  with  them  medicine,  etc.,  and  a  Salisbury  paper  for 
me  with  a  criticism  of  the  most  detracting  character.  I  thought  the 
incivility  of  the  sender,  the  superintendent  of  Mr.  Brodie's  shop,  quite 
inexcusable :  I  was  annoyed  by  it  and  by  the  article.  Ought  I  to 
look  at  newspapers  ?  they  irritate  and  pain  me,  as  affecting  in  a  degree 
my  income.  Should  I  not,  with  "  my  wing  on  the  wind  and  my  eye 
on  the  sun,"  go  onward,  right  on,  without  looking  for  or  heeding  aught 
save  what  I  feel  affects  my  interest.  I  very  soon  dismissed  it.  Fin- 
ished "  Pelham,"  which  I  think  a  very  useful  book. 


1835.  OFFERS  FROM  DRURY  LANE.  331 

Bath,  March  28th.  —  Wolsey. 

Exeter,  March  30th. —  I  begin  to  despair  of  obtaining  that  mastery 
over  myself,  which  I  owe  to  myself,  to  my  children,  and  to  society.  It 
is  no  excuse  nor  plea  that  I  suffer  so  keenly  as  I  do  from  regret  and 
shame  at  my  own  intemperance.  I  feel  the  folly,  the  madness,  the  pro- 
voking extravagance  of  my  behavior,  treating  men  like  slaves,  and 
assuming  a  power  over  them  which  is  most  unjustifiable  and  most  dan- 
gerous, and  yet  contrition  and  stinging  reflection  seem  to  have  no 
power  in  the  punishment  they  inflict  or  of  producing  amendment.  I 
do  not  wish  to  harbor  one  ungrateful  thought,  for  though  my  public 
life  is  far,  far  from  happy,  yet  my  domestic  happiness  is  more  than  an 
equipoise  to  its  annoyances,  yet  I  cannot  think  of  my  education,  and 
the  ills  derived  from  the  counsel  and  example  afforded  me  without 
heartfelt  repinings.  To  God  Almighty  I  lift  my  prayer,  that  I  may 
be  enabled  to  subdue  this  hateful  and  degrading  vice  of  temper,  so  as 
to  help  my  blessed  children  in  the  first  best  worldly  endeavor  of  gov- 
erning their  own  words. 

April  1st.  —  Hamlet. 

3d.  —  Werner. 

Ehtree,  April  5th.  —  Saw  in  the  newspaper  the  death  of  Dr.  Maton, 
a  loss  to  his  country,  and  individually  to  me  a  great  one  from  the  con- 
fidence I  had  in  his  skill,  and  the  gratitude  with  which  I  have  ever 
remembered  him.  He  saved  my  life,  I  firmly  believe,  in  my  very  se- 
rious illness. 

8^. —  Received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Smith,  of  Norwich,  offering  to 
share  there  after  £15  a  night,  which  I  accepted. 

10^.  —  [Visit  to  Bourne,  at  Cray  ford.] 

14th.  —  Wrote  an  answer  (copied)  to  Mr.  Bunn,  declining  to  per- 
form in  London  this  season,  a  resolution  which  I  formed  upon  long 
deliberation  and  taking  every  view  I  could  of  my  own  situation. 

Wrote  to  Beetham,  inclosing  my  account  with  Bunn.  Again  I  have 
cause  of  thankfulness  for  this  useful  and  excellent  habit  of  registering 
my  proceedings.  Wrote  to  Geo.  Robins,  requesting  him  to  arbitrate 
on  Mr.  Bunn's  disputed  payment.  Worked  in  the  garden,  weeding, 
for  about  an  hour  and  a  half,  "  my  faithful  dog  bearing  me  company." 
Read  Vanbrugh's  play  of  ".^Esop  "  and  part  of  "  The  Relapse." 

IQth.  —  Received  letter  from  Mr.  Bunn,  offering  me  £30  per  week 
to  act  four  nights  in  the  week  and  half  a  clear  benefit.  Considered 
all  the  motives  that  my  desire  to  form  a  right  judgment  could  suggest, 
and  thought  it  unadvisable  to  appear  in  London  under  the  circum- 
stances of  the  present  season.  I  have  endeavored  to  see  the  path 
most  likely  to  lead  to  good  for  my  own  and  my  dear  family's  sake ; 
I  hope  in  God  that  I  have  chosen  it.  I  wrote  to  decline  the  offer. 

Norwich,  April  20th.  —  After  dinner  reposed,  and  strove  to  keep 
my  mind  fixed  on  Macbeth ;  I  felt  it  was  my  business,  and  acted  parts 
of  it  well  —  the  soliloquy  before  the  murder  ;  part  of  the  dagger  and 
the  murder  scene  ;  the  banquet  part  of  the  scene  of  queen's  death ; 
and  the  last  scene. 


332  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1835. 

I  felt  the  benefit  of  taking  pains. 

21  st.  —  Read  two  Odes  of  Horace  ("Tyrrhena  regum  progenies" 
and  "Exegi  monumentum"),  at  breakfast.  The  first  is  an  especial 
favorite  :  it  is  poetry  of  the  best  kind,  the  best  feelings,  and  glimpses 
of  pictures  that  wile  the  imagination  to  other  scenes  and  climes.  Part 
of  it  is  an  authority  for  my  reflections  of  yesterday.  "  Quod  adest, 
memento  componere  aequus."  "  Ille  potens  sui  laetusque  deget,  cui 
licet  in  diem  dixisse,  Vixi,"  etc. 

2'2d.  —  Read  at  breakfast  the  beautiful  ode  of  Horace,  "  Ad  Lol- 
lium,"  Ode  IX.  Book  4.  How  much  do  I  desire  to  obtain  that  "ani- 
mus secundis  temporibus  dubiisque  rectus."  The  concluding  stanzas 
I  have  prefixed  to  this  diary :  they  really  delight  me.  Walked  for 
about  an  hour  and  a  half  and  thought  occasionally  on  Hamlet. 

Read  with  the  dictionary  one  or  two  stanzas  of  Tasso,  and,  with  an 
earnest  desire  of  acting  Hamlet  well,  lay  down  on  the  bed  after  din- 
ner striving  to  keep  it  in  my  mind.  Went  refreshed  and  rather  con- 
fident to  the  theater,  but  very  much  disappointed  in  my  own  perform- 
ance. I  might  find  an  excuse  for  my  inability  to  excite  the  audience 
in  the  difficulty  of  ascertaining  where  the  audience  was,  but  I  allow  no 
plea  or  reservation  in  the  question  of  playing  as  I  ought  or  not.  I  did 
not  satisfy  myself.  My  only  consolation  was,  that  though  provoked 
once  or  twice,  I  manifested  not  the  slightest  appearance  of  anger. 
How  is  it  that,  with  the  pains  and  precaution  I  take,  I  should  thus  dis- 
appoint myself?  Am  I  too  fastidious  and  too  careful?  Were  I  less 
so,  what  would  become  of  me  ? 

In  the  opening  speeches  to  the  king  and  queen  I  was  better  than 
usual  —  more  direct,  and  with  more  meaning  and  true  feeling.  My 
soliloquy  was,  at  least  the  latter  part  of  it,  flurried,  not  well  discrim- 
inated, not  well  given,  in  regard  to  action  —  it  wants  finish  and  study. 
The  scene  with  Horatio,  etc.,  still  requires  study  and  earnestness  ;  the 
interview  with  and  address  to  the  Ghost,  re-arrangement,  except  the 
latter  part,  which  I  did  well  to-night.  The  last  scene  of  the  first  act 
was  amended  to-night,  but  needs  study,  finish,  clear  discrimination. 

Act  second  —  scene  with  Polonius — more  ease,  abstraction,  and 
point ;  with  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern,  more  ease  and  dignity  and 
purpose  ;  with  the  players,  more  point  and  discrimination.  The  so- 
liloquy also  requires  a  little  finish. 

Act  third  —  soliloquy  requires,  and  always  will  require,  study  and 
practice.  I  was  pretty  well  to-night ;  with  Ophelia,  a  little  softening 
and  practice  ;  with  the  players,  throughout,  re-arrangement  and  study  ; 
the  scene  with  Horatio,  a  little  more  melancholy  and  tenderness. 
The  music  beginning  piano  is  very  good,  the  play  scene  is  good,  and 
the  remainder  of  the  act.  The  closet  scene  requires  a  little  revision 
and  correcting. 

Act  fourth  —  try  over  that  scene  often. 

Act  fifth  —  requires  much  earnestness  and  much  study ;  it  was,  as  a 
whole,  the  best  part  of  the  play  to-night 

23d.  —  I  must  not  forget  an  anecdote  Mr.  Simpson   told  me  of 


1835.  TALFOURD'S  "ION."  333 

Madame  Schroeder  which  evinces  clearly  the  love  of  their  art  with 
which  the  German  actors  are  inspired.  He  asked  her,  after  the  play 
of  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  how  she,  who  could  so  delineate  the  sublime 
character  of  Lady  Macbeth,  could  condescend  to  represent  one  so 
inferior  as  Lady  Capulet  ?  "  Condescend,"  she  replied,  "  is  it  not 
Shakespeare  I  acted  ?  " 

25th.  —  Virginius. 

London,  May  1st.  —  From  chambers  took  cab  to  St.  James's  Square. 
Dined  at  the  Windham  (the  best  club  in  London)  with  Lardner, 
and  went  with  him  to  the  Royal  Institution.  Was  very  much  in- 
terested by  the  lecture  on  Halley's  comet  and  pleased  with  Lardner's 
delivery. 

Elstree,  May  5th.  —  On  coming  down  read  the  "  Spectator,"  the 
direct  meaning  and  reasoning  tone  of  which  newspaper  pleased  me. 
Spent  some  time  about  the  garden  and  house  affairs,  and  had  the 
satisfaction  of  dismissing  an  intention  I  had  formed  of  expending 
some  money  on  a  piece  of  drawing-room  furniture ;  resolved  to  dis- 
pense with  it,  and  am  pleased  with  my  resolution.  Thought  on  my 
affairs.  Began  the  perusal,  as  an  exercise  for  the  improvement  of  my 
delivery  and  critical  judgment,  of  Milton's  great  poem. 

7th.  —  Read  Talfourd's  tragedy  of  "  Ion  ;  "  pleased  with  the  open- 
ing scenes  and,  as  I  proceeded,  arrested  and  held  by  the  interest  of 
the  story  and  the  characters,  as  well  as  by  the  very  beautiful  thoughts, 
and  the  very  noble  ones,  with  which  the  play  is  interspersed.  How 
delightful  to  read  his  dedication  to  his  master  and  benefactor,  Dr. 
Valpy,  and  the  gentle  outpourings  of  his  affectionate  heart  towards 
his  friends  and  associates  ;  if  one  did  not  love,  one  would  envy  such 
a  use  of  such  abilities. 

Continued  the  perusal  of  "  Van  Artevelde,"  in  which  I  find  so 
much  to  please  me.  I  know  few  scenes  more  dramatic  than  that  be- 
tween Artevelde  and  Van  den  Bosch  —  and  nothing  of  its  kind  supe- 
rior to  Clara's  description  of  Ukenheim. 

8th.  —  Opened  Herodotus,  which  I  began  with  much  care,  reading 
the  account  of  the  hostilities  between  the  Persians  and  the  Greeks. 
I  then  read  the  story  of  Iphis  and  Anaxarete  in  Ovid's  "Metamor- 
phoses," was  impatient  of  the  silly  nonsense  which  some  commenta- 
tor has  appended  to  the  poetry  in  the  shape  of  notes  —  it  is  the  con- 
ceit of  stupidity.  Continued  my  perusal  of  Milton,  reading  the  notes, 
and  going  through  the  text  with  a  loud  voice. 

After  dinner  resumed  "  Philip  Van  Artevelde,"  the  first  volume  of 
which  I  finished.  How  much  is  there  of  deep  thought  in  it !  how 
much  to  awaken  and  stimulate  thought  in  the  reader  !  The  song  of 
Elena,  the  description  of  her  mind,  its  growth,  its  singleness,  and  the 
intensity  of  her  love,  the  effects  of  its  disappointment,  the  description 
of  the  light  and  vain-hearted  youth,  and  her  remembrance  of  her  na- 
tive Italy,  are  all  beautiful. 

Bath,  May  12th. —  Ruminated  on  the  sore  subject  of  my  expenses, 
and  certainly  were  I  not  hampered  with  the  lease  of  my  house,  I 


334  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1835. 

would  leave  it ;  as  it  is  I  do  not  well  know  what  to  do.  A  case  of 
self-interest  brought  to  my  mind  the  counterpart  of  the  case  of  a 
graduated  property-tax,  and  feeling  in  my  own  person  the  injustice 
of  such  a  scale,  I  am  obliged  to  apply  it  where  the  argument  makes 
for  me.  A  graduated  property-tax  is  an  injustice.  Fonblanque  is 
right. 

Worcester,  May  I3(h. —  Arrived  about  five;  and,  after  looking  at 
my  rooms,  proceeded  to  the  theater ;  could  not  gain  admission,  and 
had  to  wait  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  a  public-house  for  the 
arrival  of  the  housekeeper.  Unpacked  and  dressed ;  though  the  rain 
poured  down  the  house  was  very  good,  and  I  acted  Virginius  very 
well,  and  without  any  anger  at  all.  It  was  very  decently  done  ;  only 
Dentatus  had  put  a  surplice  over  his  street  clothes  and  put  part  of  a 
sheep's  fleece  on  his  chin  for  a  beard.  Mr.  Bennett  paid  me,  and  I 
came  to  the  Star,  where  I  read  the  paper. 

14th.  —  At  Pershore  a  Frenchman 'got  into  the  coach,  very  good- 
natured,  and  intelligent ;  he  was  taking  specimens  from  his  garden  to 
contest  some  of  the  prizes  at  the  horticultural  meeting  at  Evesham. 
He  settled  in  Worcestershire  from  its  resemblance  to  Normandy ;  he 
mentioned  that  when  an  Englishman  speaks  French  very  well,  so  well 
as  to  deceive  a  Frenchman,  his  pronunciation  approaches  the  Gascon 
dialect  more  closely  than  any  other. 

London,  May  2lst.  —  Called  at  Forster's  chambers  to  arrange  with 
him  a  visit  to  Mr.  Maclise. 

Accompanied  Forster  to  Mr.  Maclise's  lodgings  —  found  him  a 
young,  prepossessing,  intelligent  man,  anxious  to  paint  my  picture. 
Saw  his  large  one  of  Captain  Rock,  and  several  smaller  of  great  merit 
Agreed  to  sit  to  him. 

2"2d.  —  Went  into  Pall  Mall  to  see  the  Titian's  Venus,  which  is  cer- 
tainly a  very  good  picture,  whether  copy  or  original.  Walked  into 
the  gallery  above,  and  saw  some  old  things  which  I  had  seen  with 
other  and  much  more  admiring  eyes  seventeen  years  ago.  Passed  on 
to  Leicester  Square  to  see  David's  pictures  —  was  pleased  with  his 
Napoleon,  his  Andromache  over  Hector,  and  strongly  impressed  by 
his  picture  of  the  dead  Marat ;  the  details  were  too  real  and  unre- 
deemed to  please,  but  it  was  a  thing  not  to  be  forgotten. 

To  the  Olympic  to  see  Jenny  Vertpre  act  in  "  La  Petite  Fille  "  and 
"  Le  Jeune  et  la  Vieille."  Was  quite  delighted  with  her  charming 
and  finished  personation. 

23d.  —  Note  from  II.  Smith,  acquainting  me  with  a  message  from 
M.  Cloup,  the  director  of  the  French  company,  regretting  he  had  not 
known  of  my  visit  that  he  might  have  offered  me  a  box,  and  wishing 
to  know  if  the  speculation  would  answer  at  Bath  ;  a  note  from  Bunn, 
stating  that  he  had  called  yesterday.  Dined  with  Mr.  Warren,  where 
I  met  Mr.  Brockedon,  whose  acquaintance  I  desired  to  make.  Passed 
a  very  cheerful  afternoon. 

26th  —  After  some  resolutions  to  go,  and  not  to  go,  I  put  an  end 
to  all  hesitation  by  dressing  myself  and  setting  out  for  town.  I  read 


1835.  "PHILIP  VAN  ARTEVELDE."  335 

part  of  second  volume  of  "  Van  Artevelde  "  on  my  way,  which  delights 
me  very  much,  and  teaches  riot  a  little.  Copied  out  some  memoranda 
of  anecdotes,  which  I  thought  worth  keeping  ;  wrote  a  note  inclosing 
cards  of  invitation  to  Fonblanque,  which  I  sent  with  one  to  Lardner. 
Sent  also  notes  to  Bunn  and  Beetham,  apprising  them  of  my  stay  in 
town  this  week. 

Went  to  Dr.  Lardner's  :  met  Mrs.  Shelley,  Miss  Sheridan,  Lord 
Adare,  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Stanhope,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Norton,  Fonblanque, 
and  Miss  Keene.  I  could  not  look  at  Mrs.  Norton,  without  looking 
long — her  face  is  one  to  think  of. 

Saw  the  Sheils,  Hayward,  O'Hanlon  (who  told  me  that  the  French 
of  my  note  to  Vertpre  was  much  better  than  the  English),  Martin,  to 
whom  I  was  introduced,  Lady  Seymour  and  I  think  Mrs.  Blackwood, 
Babbage.  Mrs.  Norton,  on  going  away,  returned  to  find  me,  and 
expressed  her  wish  to  see  me  at  her  house. 

'2.1th.  —  Made  "  Van  Artevelde  "  my  breakfast  companion.  Tal- 
fourd  objects  to  the  second  volume,  and  seems  almost  to  feel  his  — 
Artevelde's  — love  for  Elena  a  pollution  of  his  own  heart  and  a  wrong 
to  the  memory  of  Adriana.  I  do  not  feel  it  so.  We  are  human  be- 
ings ;  the  heart  of  man  cannot  endure  a  state  of  solitude  and  bereave- 
ment: it  is  not  that  alone  which  is  lovable  that  induces  us  to  love, 
the  disposition  to  love  is  part  of  our  being,  we  lean  towards  something 
with  a  natural  yearning,  and  if  we  find  it  not  we  weaken  or  grow  hard 
in  selfish  purpose.  To  live  alone  a  man  must  be  either  brutal  or 
divine,  as  Bacon  tells  us,  and  what  loneliness  is  like  that  of  a  desolated 
heart  ?  I  feel,  in  Artevelde's  love  for  Elena,  that  it  is  a  pillow  on 
which  he  rests  his  heart,  bruised  and  somewhat  weakened  by  its  afflic- 
tion and  desert  state,  and  wearied  with  the  cares,  from  which  hope 
slowly  is  detaching  itself,  that  have  no  other  solace.  What  a  charming 
book  it  is !  Forster  'called  in,  and  wished  me  to  write  a  review  of 
Miss  F.  Kemble's  book ;  but  I  cannot  conceal  the  fact  from  myself, 
that  I  cannot  write  now  for  the  public.  I  have  been  left  behind  in  the 
world's  march.  It  is  not  vanity  that  makes  me  case  myself  in  pride, 
but  a  consciousness  of  not  having  won  a  secure  title  to  distinction,  and 
the  nervous  and  unquiet  apprehension  of  its  being  questioned. 

28th.  —  Called  on  Bunn  in  Prince's  Place ;  talked  long  on  other 
matters,  and  at  length  came  to  the  point  of  our  meeting,  and  agreed 
on  next  season's  engagement :  £30  unsubtracted ;  four  nights  per 
week  ;  half  a  benefit ;  "  Bridal  "  *  on  usual  terms  ;  three  weeks'  vaca- 
tion, last  of  Lent.  Which  I  pray  to  God  may  be  fortunate  and  pros- 
perous. 

30th.  —  Took  cab  to  St.  James's  Square  and ,  called  on  Lardner  at 
Windham  Club ;  found  Mr.  Donovan  with  him,  a  chemist ;  accompa- 
nied them  to  a  lamp  shop  in  Regent  Street,  where  I  saw  a  curious 
French  lamp  and  heard  of  one  by  Donovan  to  burn  naphtha.  Went 
in  the  coach  to  call  on  Mrs.  Norton  ;  found  Lord  Castlereagh  in  the 
drawing-room,  who  stared,  as  I,  intrenching  myself  in  my  democratic 

1  The  dramatic  copyright  of  the  Bridal  belonged  to  Macrcady.  —  E0. 


336  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1835. 

pride,  did  again.  We  waited  some  little  time,  when  Mrs.  Norton  ap- 
peared, dressed  for  a  walk  ;  she  introduced  us  and,  after  a  little  chat 
wherein  we  heard  of  the  duel  between  Lord  Seymour  and  Sir  Colqu- 
houn  Grant,  we  ended  our  short  visit,  and  took  the  way  to  Malibran, 
on  whom  we  left  cards. 

Sunday,  May  31st.  —  Arose  most  unwillingly.  After  several  efforts 
dressed,  and  went  to  Dr.  Elwin,  where  I  met  at  breakfast  his  family 
and  brother,  the  artist.  How  much  I  have  occasion  to  lament  each 
day  of  my  life,  not  having  paid  attention  to  my  mode  of  delivering  in 
common  conversation  :  my  hesitation  and  want  of  clearness  in  the  ex- 
pression of  my  ideas  is  a  serious  blemish.  He  took  me  to  the  Unita- 
rian Chapel,  South  Street,  where  Mr.  Fox l  preached.  His  prayer 
was  fervent  and  wide  in  its  charitable  application  as  the  world  itself; 
he  ended  with  the  Lord's  Prayer,  which  he  repeated  well.  His  ser- 
mon or  lecture,  for  there  was  no  text  —  was  on  the  influence  of  those 
arts  connected  with  the  imagination,  upon  religious  feeling.  The  ef- 
fect was  conviction.  The  truth  of  his  proposition  was  as  manifest  as 
those  sublime  and  beautiful  works  of  the  Creator,  from  which  he  bor- 
rowed his  noble  and  illustrative  imagery.  To  attempt  to  record  the 
eloquent  arguments,  definitions,  and  descriptions  would  be  idle ;  I  have 
much  of  the  subject-matter  in  my  mind,  but  not  arranged,  nor  in  those 
words  that  burned,  and  kindled  my  enthusiasm  as  no  speaker  ever 
did  before.  It  was  everything  that  the  exponent  of  a  religious  and  a 
philosophic  system  of  worship  should  be.  He  sent  to  express  his  wish 
to  see  me,  and  I  was  conducted  to  the  vestry,  where  I  thanked  him, 
and  promised  to  let  him  know  when  I  could  dine  with  him  to  meet  the 
author  of  "  Cosmo." 

Went  to  Forster's  to  dine.  Met  Stanfield,  Bulwer,  Fonblanque, 
Blanchard,  Talfourd,  Howard,  Maclise,  Catterniole,  Procter,  Leigh 
Hunt,  T.  Fonblanque,  Price.  Pleasant  day. 

Howard  wanted  me  to  go  to  Lady  Blessington's,  but  was  not 
dressed. 

JElstree,  June  5th.  —  Continued  my  perusal  of  "  The  Provost  of 
Bruges,"  and  deliberated  much  upon  it,  when  I  finished  it.  The  lan- 
guage is  not  up  to  that  high  pitch  of  imagination,  sentiment,  or  passion 
which  ever  seems  to  approach  the  sublime,  but  it  is  seldom  low,  gen- 
erally natural,  oftentimes  forcible,  and  not  unfrequently  tender  and 
pathetic.  I  am  inclined  to  arttribute  its  chief  merit  to  its  situation, 
which  still  is  a  great  merit. 

Sth.  —  Letter  from  Bulwer  at  some  length,  excusing  himself  from 
dining  here  on  Sunday.  One  expression  in  his  letter  I  disliked  —  the 
"  honor  of  my  acquaintance."  My  acquaintance  can  be  no  honor  to 
such  a  man  as  Bulwer,  and  it  almost  seems  like  irony. 

Read  over  Lord  Byron's  "  Foscari,"  which  does  not  seem  to  me  to 
contain  the  power,  or  rather  the  variety  and  intensity  of  passion  which 
many  of  his  other  plays  do. 

1  Afterwards  M.  P.  for  Oldham.  —  ED. 


1835.  A  VERY  HUMBLE  ART.  337 

12th.  —  Began  to  read  "Marino  Faliero,"  but  read  it  drowsily.  I 
wish  I  could  think  it  dramatic,  at  present  I  do  not. 

London,  June  13th.  —  Called  at  Garrick  Club.  Planche  proposed 
to  me  the  half  of  the  Adelphi  Theater.  I  could  not  give  up  my  whole 
self  to  the  employment  of  conducting  it,  and  if  I  did  not,  it  would  not 
answer. 

17th.  —  (Literary  Fund  Dinner.)  Thought  upon  what  T  ought  to 
say  at  the  dinner  —  and  dressed  for  it  —  Dr.  Lardner  called  for  me, 
and  we  went.  I  saw  Wyse,  whom  I  liked  much,  Christie,  French, 
Emerson  Tennent.  The  whole  proceedings  of  the  day  were  dull  and 
wearisome  with  the  exception  of  Wilkie's  speech,  in  which  he  noticed 
the  connection  of  literature  and  art ;  and  the  Turkish  Attache,  who  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  compliment  paid  to  him  in  drinking  his  health, 
rose  and  gulped  down  a  bumper  of  wine,  then  sat  down.  Urquhart, 
his  cicerone,  spoke  very  well,  but  in  a  low  tone  of  voice.  Lord  Teign- 
mouth  spoke  very  well,  and  Murchison  fairly.  On  paying  my  sub- 
scription, Mr  Snow  told  me  that  my  name  was  in  the  list  of  toasts. 
This  decided  me.  I  feel  unequal  from  the  want  of  habit,  and  the  un- 
certainty of  my  position.  I  read  in  every  newspaper  of  this  week,  that 
my  art  is  a  very  humble  one  —  if  indeed  it  be  an  art  at  all  —  and  that 
its  professors  are  entitled  to  little  respect :  and  here,  when  in  courtesy 
I  am  admitted  as  Mr.  Macready  among  the  esquires  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  the  King's  Printing  Office,  the  ''  Quarterly  Review,"  etc.,  etc., 
I  am  to  speak  without  the  possibility  of  knowing  what  place  is  allowed 
me  as  an  artist,  or  what  degree  of  particular  consideration  may  be  ex- 
tended to  me  as  a  man  consistent  in  his  private  conduct. 

18th.  —  Is  it  twenty  years  since,  in  Greenock,  I  waited  with  anxiety 
the  particular  return  of  the  dead  and  wounded  from  the  Battle  of 
Waterloo  —  wishing  to  be  certified  of  dear  Edward's  safety  ? 

ISth.  —  AVent  out,  saw  the  Panorama  of  Thebes.  Was  struck  with 
the  advantage,  in  this  refined  age,  that  we  possess  in  the  exact  images 
of  those  remote  objects  of  which  we  read  with  so  much  interest ;  our 
imagination  is  enriched  with  precise  ideas  of  things  and  places,  on 
which  our  untraveled  forefathers  could  have  had  but  very  vague  and 
uncertain  conjectures  from  description.  Can  almost  believe  that  I 
have  seen  those  mighty  monuments,  the  eternal  mountains  that  looked 
upon  their  erection  and  still  overlook  their  state  of  ruin  —  the  teem- 
ing river,  rich  in  the  associations  and  visions  of  the  past  as  in  the  real 
bounties  of  Nature  at  this  very  period.  Saw  Jerusalem,  and  was  dis- 
gusted with  the  various  spots  assigned  to  the  words  and  actions  of  our 
Saviour,  tending  more  to  shake  belief  than  all  the  scoffs  and  invectives 
of  skepticism.  Called  on  Greaves  and  Bulwer,  leaving  cards  with 
each.  Passed  on  to  the  collection  of  Rubens's  drawings,  the  property 
of  Sir  T.  Lawrence,  with  which  I  was  truly  delighted.  I  did  not 
think  he  had  such  power  of  pencil :  they  did  not  want  what  some 
critics  say  was  Rubens's  only  quality  of  excellence,  color.  Called  on 
Sarti  and  ordered  casts. 

21th.  —  My  thanks  are  due  to  Almighty  God,  and  gratefully  they 
22 


338  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1835. 

are  offered  for  the  large  share  of  happiness  with  which  it  has  been  His 
bountiful  will  to  bless  me.  That  it  has  not  been  greater,  though  cer- 
tainly very  great  in  comparison  with  my  fellow-men,  has  been  the 
fault  of  my  own  indiscretion,  misusing  and  vexing  with  vain  imagina- 
tions the  real  good  in  my  power.  I  acknowledge  and  bless  His  good- 
ness, and  fervently  pray  that  He  will  so  strengthen  and  quicken  my 
resolutions  to  improve  my  mind,  and  labor  in  my  calling  for  my  dear 
children's  welfare,  that  I  may  be  enabled  to  educate  them  in  His  faith, 
fear,  and  love,  and  present  in  their  amiable  and  virtuous  lives  some 
atoning  plea  for  mercy  to  their  parent's  errors. 

Jn  thinking  on  what  are  our  real  enjoyments  in  life,  I  am  disposed 
to  come  to  the  conclusion  that  no  possession  can  very  long  be  in  itself 
a  source  of  pleasure ;  action  is  the  real  gratification  to  man,  and  how 
wisely  ordained  that  it  should  be  so. 

"  The  food  of  hope 
Is  meditated  action  ;  robbed  of  this, 
Her  sole  support,  she  languishes  and  dies. 
We  perish  also." 

WOBDSWORTH'S  Excursion. 

26<A.  —  Letter  from  Mr. .     The  suggestion  of  a  monument  to 

Shakespeare's  mother  (query,  why  not  Shakespeare's  grandmother)  ; 
he  is  illiterate  and  unfortunately  vain.  I  wish  it  were  otherwise,  as  he 
professes  to  model  himself  upon  me. 

To  York,  July  4th.  —  Read  a  notice  on  the  life  and  writings  of  La 
Fontaine  prefixed  to  his  works  —  was  very  much  pleased  with  it ; 
thought  it  so  abounding  with  well-expressed  and  instructive  truths  as 
well  as  amusing  anecdotes,  that  I  resolved  to  give  another  reading  to 
it.  There  is  one  passage  which,  however  willing  my  vanity  may  be 
to  echo,  my  judgment  cannot  assent  to :  "  La  gloire,  pour  ceux  meme 
qui  en  sont  les  plus  dignes,  et  qui  font  tout  pour  1'obtenir,  est  une 
espece  de  jeu  de  hasard,  oil  ce  qu'on  appelle  le  bonheur  n'est  pas  moins 
necessaire  que  la  science  et  1'adresse.  Tacite  observe  meme,  qu'il  y  a 
des  hommes  auxquels  il  tient  lieu  de  vertus."  It  would  soothe  my 
wounded  self-love  to  think  this,  and  to  console  myself  for  my  own  in- 
significance on  the  theater  of  life  with  passages  like  this  and  that 
beautiful  one  with  which  the  character  of  Van  Artevelde  opens,  but  it 
is  a  dangerous  principle  to  admit,  giving  too  much  to  chance.  The 
accidents  of  birth  and  fortune  are  no  doubt  great,  particularly  in  this 
country,  but  where  there  is  life  and  death,  well  exercised  talent  will 
gain  its  true  ascendency.  I  feel  the  heavy  weight  of  censure  I  lay 
upon  myself  in  this  admission,  but  I  must  make  it. 

London,  July  5th.  —  Went  to  the  Garrick  Club,  where  I  dined. 
Forster  asked  me  to  accompany  him  to  Talfourd's,  to  which  I  agreed. 
We  spent  the  evening  there.  Talfourd  took  me  into  the  other  drawing- 
room  and,  talking  over  "  Ion,"  expressed  his  firm  resolve  that  no  one 
should  act  the  character  but  myself.  I  shall  therefore  address  myself 
to  it.  Talfourd  walked  home  part  of  the  way  with  Forster  and  my- 
self. 


1835.  MILTON.  330 

Ehtree,  July  7th.  —  Began  again  Brougham's  "  Discourse  on  Natural 
Theology ; "  read  two  sections  of  it,  with  which  I  was  really  charmed. 
The  sublime  wideness  of  design  throughout  the  universe  he  adduces  in 
the  simplest  language,  and  applies  the  reasoning  by  which  they  were 
made  known  in  the  most  logical  and.  in  my  mind,  most  convincing 
manner,  to  demonstrate  the  "  Great  First  Cause."  It  is  valuable  for 
the  religious  feeling  that  is  excited  or  rekindled  within  us  by  the  won- 
derful wisdom  and  beneficence  of  the  Creator,  which  he  with  the  mere 
eloquence  of  truth  puts  forward. 

8th.  —  Took  a  vegetable  dinner,  and  looked  through  Potter's  trans- 
lation of  Sophocles's  "  CEdipus,"  to  try  Shell's  suggestion  of  my  per- 
formance of  QEdipus.  It  could  not  be  presented,  I  think,  to  give 
pleasure. 

9th.  —  Walked  in  garden.  Read,  accidentally,  that  beautiful  pas- 
sage, "  O  fortunati  nimium "  of  Virgil,  ending  the  second  Georgic. 
What  a  succession  of  busy  and  beautiful  images,  what  soothing  ideas 
of  tranquillity  and  enjoyment,  what  agreeable  sentiments  concealed 
beneath  the  conditions  of  life  he  brings  under  review  !  How  much 
delight  is  added  to  existence  in  the  power  of  following  and  clearly  de- 
picting to  one's  self  the  imaginings  of  the  poets  of  our  own  and  other 
languages  !  Did  not  feel  well ;  apprehend  my  diet  of  vegetables  and 
fruit  has  been  too  abruptly  entered  upon. 

Read  and  practiced,  but  languidly,  for  two  hours  and  a  half,  reading 
Milton,  Chatham's  speeches,  and  rehearsing  Hamlet.  Letters  from 
Bunn,  agreeing  to  my  terms,  excepting  three  weeks  additional.  An- 
swered him,  relinquishing  the  three  weeks.  Again  in  the  garden  at 
the  arbutus-tree,  after  dinner.  Looked  at  the  Encyclopedia,  endeavor- 
ing to  understand  the  differential  and  integral  calculus,  which  I  cannot. 
How  strange  it  is  that  before  I  was  ten,  I  think,  I  was  learning  algebra 
and  was  particularly  quick  in  arithmetic,  and  now  literally  know  noth- 
ing of  it. 

Sunday,  July  19th.  —  Was  much  struck  with  the  prayer  of  Plato, 
quoted  in  the  notes  to  Milton. 

Delighted  with  the  morning  thanksgiving  and  prayer  of  Adam  and 
Eve,  which  is  quite  touching  in  its  fervor  and  beauty.  Went  to  after- 
noon chui'ch.  Read  the  last  book  of  the  "  Excursion."  It  is  difficult 
for  me  to  express  the  grateful  and  reverential  feelings  with  which  I 
think  of  its  author.  Milton  elevates,  thrills,  awes,  and  delights  me  — 
but  Wordsworth,  "  alluring  to  higher  worlds  "  by  their  types  on  earth, 
kindles  anew  my  expiring  fervor,  strengthens  my  hopes,  and  reconciles 
me  to  myself.  He  comforts  me  ;  he  make  me  anxious  to  be  virtuous, 
and  strengthens  my  resolution  to  try  to  be  so. 

22d.  —  I  read  a  little  more  of  Boswell,  which  is  certainly,  for  this 
kind  of  casual  reading,  a  most  delightful  book. 

23d.  —  Began  to  interleave  a  prompt-book  of  "  Riches,"  not  to  waste 
time.  My  books  arrived  from  the  binder's,  and  Mr.  Lovell  sent  me 
"  The  Provost  of  Bruges,"  altered,  with  a  note.  Went  out  to  walk  in 
the  garden,  where  I  labored  efficiently  for  the  garden  and  myself  in 


340  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  183ft 

above  two  hours  of  good  exercise ;  the  evening  was  beautiful.  Com- 
ing in,  read  through  most  attentively  "  The  Provost  of  Bruges,"  which, 
although  the  requisite  pains  have  not  been  bestowed  on  the  alterations, 
is  in  my  mind  very  much  improved. 

Wrote  to  Mr.  Lovell  my  opinions  upon  it,  and  inquired  of  him  his 
wishes.  Completed  the  interleaving  of  the  play  of  "  Riches  ;  "  have 
not  been  idle  to-day,  thank  God. 

27th.  —  In  Milton  I  read  the  encounter  of  Abdiel  with  Satan,  and 
the  shock  of  the  angelic  armies  —  how  much  to  be  regretted,  that  a 
play  of  words  should  intervene  to  check  the  tide  of  admiration  on 
which  we  are  borne  along  by  this  noble  book  !  Began  reading  in 
earnest  passages  of  "  Hamlet,"  but  could  not  give  more  than  an  hour 
to  it ;  this  I  much  regret,  and  must  lay  aside  all  other  studies  for  that, 
on  which  with  me  so  much  depends.  After  dinner  read  through  the 
play  of  "  The  Bridal,"  which  I  may  place  ready,  as  I  do  not  see  where 
I  am  to  improve  it. 

Walked  for  exercise  about  two  hours  in  the  garden,  enjoying  the 
air,  and  fragrance,  and  foliage. 

29</«. —  Took  up  "Corinne,"  and  read,  and  read,  until  dinner  and 
after  dinner,  that  attractive  book,  so  rich  in  beautiful  imaginations,  so 
true  in  its  pointed  inferences.  Had  some  time  to  give  to  the  various 
workmen,  but  ever  with  "  Corinne  "  in  my  hand.  Was  obliged  in  the 
afternoon  to  put  my  handkerchief  over  my  head  and  fairly  try  to  sleep 
off  my  heaviness.  I  lost  this  day  from  striving  to  make  too  much  of 
it,  and  yet  I  ate  no  meat,  and  but  sparingly  of  my  vegetable  dinner. 
Worked  for  upwards  of  two  hours  in  the  garden. 

oOt/i.  —  Calcraft  arrived,  and  agreed  to  give  me  £210  for  eight 
nights,  which  I  accepted. 

August  2d. —  Read  "  Corinne "  until  the  galloping  of  horses  past 
the  gate  gave  me  assurance  of  the  arrival  of  my  guests.  We  dined  — 
Forster,  Maclise,  and  self — and  adjourned  to  the  summer-house  at 
Forster's  request,  where  we  talked  over  the  witches  of  "  Macbeth  " 
and  the  subject  for  a  picture.  My  own  opinion  and  suggestion  was  in 
favor  of  figures,  but  no  face  except  the  portrait,  and  Forster  seemed 
to  coincide  with  me ;  but  Mr.  Maclise  did  not  feel  the  power  of  exert- 
ing the  imagination  by  giving  passion  to  the  figure  and  concealing  the 
fur.-.  I  think  him  wrong.  At  Forster's  request  read  some  of  the 
scenes  of  "  Bertulphe." 

[8<A  to  19///.  —  Engagement  at  Dublin.] 

Dublin,  August  Qt/t.  —  Calcraft  mentioned  to  me  the  behavior  of 

D'Aguilar  in  the  case  of  Lady ,  which  I  think  highly  to  his  honor. 

When  Lady  Haddington  refused  to  receive  her,  Colonel  D'Aguilar 
requested  his  wife  to  call  on  her,  and  made  a  large  party  for  her.  She 
was  met  by  Lady  Blakeney,  etc.,  etc.,  who  all  invited  her,  thinking  it 
a  hard  case,  after  twenty-five  years,  to  publish  her  disgrace  to  her  own 
daughters,  who  were  before  unacquainted  with  it. 

13(h.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  and  acted  Hamlet  to  an  audience  ex- 
tremely difficult  to  provoke  to  applause.  I  thought  that  I  must  have 


1835.  A  REMINISCENCE.  341 

lacked  spirit  and  earnestness  in  the  first  act,  at  which  I  was  vexed, 
and  took  all  the  pains  I  could  with  the  remainder  of  the  play,  but  I 
acted  under  a  sense  of  effort  and  a  supposition  of  deficient  sympathy 
in  the  auditors.  The  best  passages  in  my  mind  were  the  affected 
madness  with  Ophelia,  and  the  closet  scene.  I  must  not  give  it  up.  I 
must  also  study  my  appearance  as  well  as  my  acting  in  it. 

1 6(h.  —  To  Christ  Church,  where  I  was  taken  to  the  organ  gallery 
—  a  most  unenviable  post  of  distinction  —  and  was  gratified  with  the 
Te  Deum,  Jubilate,  and  anthem  (Haydn)  by  the  Dublin  choir:  the 
performance  was  admirable.  The  sermon  by  Archdeacon  Mansel  was 
very  bad.  Remembered  the  time  when  I  first  went  into  this  church, 
a  boy  of  ten  years  old,  with  my  grandfather,  as  common  councilman, 
and  the  mayor,  etc.  Thought  on  the  years  that  had  passed  —  thirty- 
two —  and  the  changes  they  had  made.  Mused  upon  the  religion  of 
the  congregation  before  me  brought  here  to  listen  to  the  music  and  to 
look  at  each  other  —  and  this  is  devotion !  Looked  at  Strongbow's 
tomb,  and  the  bent  roof  of  the  church. 

Yith.  —  We  drove  in  the  carriage,  which  called  for  us  at  the  Assem- 
bly House,  William  Street,  in  consequence  of  a  note  sent  to  me  by 
Mrs.  Macready,  telling  me  I  could  take  the  oaths  for  -my  freedom. 
Received  great  courtesy  from  the  persons  there,  but  was  obliged  to 
wait  so  long,  that  it  became  necessary  to  go  to  the  Phoenix  Park  first, 
and  return  to  William  Street.  I  accordingly  agreed  to  return  in  an 
hour,  and  we  drove  through  the  park  to  the  Lodge.  It  is  a  very 
pretty  place  —  how  convenient  it  must  be  to  be  a  Lord  Lieutenant!  I 
wrote  my  name,  but  my  hand  was  so  unsteady,  it  was  scarcely  legible, 
so  I  added  my  card  to  the  written  name.  Came  back  to  William 
Street,  where  I  was  ushered  before  the  Lord  Mayor,  and,  abjuring 
Popery  and 'many  absurd  bugbears,  took  the  oaths  to  become  a  Free- 
man of  the  City  of  Dublin  ;  the  Mayor,  a  young  man,  whom  I  sup- 
pose to  be  Morrisson,  Junior,  was  very  civil  and  accommodating. 

Elstree,  August  23d. — Letters  from  Forster,  informing  me  that 
Mathews's  pictures  had  been  bought  by  Mr.  Durrant  for  the  Garrick 
Club  ;  from  Marianne  Skerrett,  mentioning  the  intention  of  Hetta  and 
herself  to  travel  with  separate  parties  to  Naples  to  endeavor  to  see 
their  Uncle  Matthias,  whose  health  was  very  precarious.  The  "  Exam- 
iner," which  I  read,  records  his  death.  I  knew  him  ;  he  was  of  a  kind 
and  courteous  disposition,  of  more  acquirement  than  genius,  and  living 
latterly  upon  the  reputation  of  having  had  a  reputation  from  the 
"  Pursuits  of  Literature,"  which  his  Italian  translations  and  compli- 
mentary sonnets  did  not  enhance  or  support.  Walked  in  the  garden, 
and  felt  again  the  tranquil  pleasure  of  being  at  home  and  with  my 
dear  family. 

2Qth.  — Wrote  a  prayer  for  my  dear  children,  wishing  them  clearly 
to  understand  what  they  ask  for,  and  of  Whom  they  asked  it,  as  far  at 
least  as  the  limits  of  their  understanding  would  allow  them  ;  and  being 
desirous  that  their  prayer  should  be  a  still  recurring  memorial  of  their 
duties  and  obligations,  and  a  sort  of  code  to  refer  to  for  their  immediate 


342  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1835. 

conviction  on  their  infringement  of  any  of  its  injunctions.  Listened 
again  to  their  lessons,  and  again  took  some  pains  to  enforce  my  plan 
of  making  their  lessons  convey  positive  and  practical  knowledge. 

SI st.  —  Made  out  the  draft  of  my  engagement  with  Mr.  Buna  upon 
the  terms  agreed  on  between  us,  and  the  list  of  plays  accompanying  it, 
in  order  that  I  might  not  be  taken  by  surprise. 

September  2d.  —  Finished  the  sixth  book  of  Milton,  and  went  over 
the  third  act  of  "  Macbeth."  My  object  is  to  increase  the  power  and 
vigor  of  my  performance,  and  to  subdue  all  tendency  to  exaggeration 
of  gesture,  expression,  and  deportment,  to  make  more  simple,  more 
chaste,  and  yet  more  forcible  and  real  the  passions  and  characters  I 
have  to  portray.  After  dinner  indulged  in  rioting  and  disciplining 
in  sport  my  children  (for  thus  I  make  them  companions  to  myself, 
and  teach  them  to  "  know  as  a  friend,"  while  I  can  gently  check  any 
disposition  to  wrong  which  may  appear  in  them).  Then  sat  down  to 
read  over  attentively,  and  endeavor  to  reduce  into  an  acting  form  and 
dimensions,  Talfourd's  sweet  tragic  poem  of  "  Ion,"  which  I  accom- 
plished, though  it  occupied  more  time  than  I  anticipated.  I  expect  to 
find  him  refractory  on  some  points  —  and  where  some  of  the  most 
poetical  passages  are  omitted,  it  is  difficult  to  persuade  an  author  that 
the  effect  of  the  whole  is  improved ;  but  imagery  and  sentiment  will 
not  supply  the  place  of  action. 

3d.  —  Practiced  and  considered  Macbeth  through  the  morning.  Re- 
ceived a  very  kind  letter  from  Marianne  Skerrett,  just  about  to  sail 
from  Portsmouth  for  Havre  on  her  way  to  Italy. 

Went  again  through  "  Ion,"  still  cutting,  "  still  destroying."  Read 
"  Ion  "  to  Catherine  and  Letitia,  who  were  both  affected  by  it ;  but  it 
still  needs  reduction  in  some  of  the  speeches. 

Sunday,  September  Gth.  —  Went  to  afternoon  service  with  Letitia. 
Read  prayers  to  the  family.  Why,  if  religious  observances  be  unim- 
portant, should  the  attention  to  them  give  me,  who  disapprove  of  the 
unapostolic,  unsatisfying  mode  in  which  they  are  ministered,  such  sooth- 
ing and  complacent  feelings  ? 

9l/t.  —  Practiced  part  of  Othello,  to  which  I  do  not  find  I  yet  give 
that  real  pathos  and  terrible  fury  which  belongs  to  the  character. 

Read  over  attentively  the  whole  of "  Melantius."  I  do  not  much 
fancy  it. 

London,  September  21st.  —  Bunn  came,  and  the  business  of  my  plays 
and  engagement  was  discussed.  He  said  "  '  The  Bridal '  was  a  pet  of 
mine."  I  told  him  "  No  ;  that  I  wished  to  make  it  a  means  of  remu- 
neration without  loading  the  theater  with  additional  salary,  and  I  only 
regarded  it  as  additional  to  my  income."  "  Ion,"  he  agreed,  should  be 
read  by  me  to  himself  and  others,  and  that  he  would  then  come  to  a 
judgment  on  its  performance,  without  at  present  pledging  himself  to 
act  it.  "  Bertulphe  "  he  had  decided  on  not  hearing  read,  and  I  agreed 
to  write  to  the  author  and  gain  his  consent  to  give  it  to  him. 

We  read  over  the  engagement,  making  the  time  of  "  The  Bridal  " 
Christmas  instead  of  the  spring,  signed  and  interchanged  it,  I  speaking 


1835.  ENGAGEMENT  WITH  BUXX.  343 

about  room  and  flesh-stockings.  On  consideration  gave  him  "  The 
Provost  of  Bruges,"  reading  him  one  passage  in  it. 

Elstree,  September  25th. —  Studied  Othello,  which  I  find  difficult  — 
the  management  and  economy  of  my  time  and  force.  How  little  do 
they  know  of  this  art  who  think  it  is  easy ! 

London,  September  30th.  —  (Drury  Lane.}  Left  my  dear  home  to 
begin  this  eventful  season,  in  entering  upon  which  I  earnestly  ask 
God's  blessing  upon  my  efforts,  and  that  I  may  receive  and  deserve 
success  by  my  care  and  industry ;  or,  if  it  be  the  Almighty's  will  that 
I  should  be  rebuked  by  ill-fortune,  I  humbly  and  heartily  pray  to  Him 
for  strength  and  wisdom  to  bear  it  well,  and  to  turn  it  to  good. 

October  1st.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  played  ill  (Macbeth),  I  must 
presume,  because  ineffectively ;  and  yet  I  never  tried  so  much  to  play 
well,  and  never,  never  was  it  of  so  much  importance  to  me  to  play 
well.  The  audience  called  for  me  —  a  kindness  on  their  part  —  and 
I  went  on,  but  when  Talfourd,  Forster,  and  Walron  came  to  my  room, 
not  one  had  a  word  of  comfort  or  congratulation.  What  have  I  omit- 
ted to  make  this  evening  successful  ?  I  do  not  know,  but  the  bitter- 
ness of  my  feelings  is  such,  with  the  anticipation  of  the  newspapers 
to-morrow,  that  if  I  had  not  ties  which  bind  me  down  to  this  profes- 
sion (and  I  could  curse  the  hour  that  it  was  suggested  to  me),  I  would 
eat  a  crust,  or  eat  nothing,  rather  than  play  in  it.  I  scarcely  recollect 
when  my  feelings  have  been  so  wrought  up  to  a  state  of  agonizing 
bitterness  as  to-night ;  I  feel  almost  desperate. 

2d.  —  I  cannot  remember  —  it  may  be  because  the  exact  recollec- 
tions of  our  sufferings  cannot  be  preserved  amid  the  multitudes  of 
feelings  that  sweep  over  them  —  but  I  cannot  call  to  mind  more  than 
one  evening  of  my  whole  life  which  brought  to  me  more  acute  distress 
than  yesterday's.  The  stake  of  my  future  life  was  upon  it,  for  speedy 
profit  or,  perhaps,  poverty,  and  it  is  lost!  .  I  cannot  charge  myself 
with  neglect ;  I  really  applied  to  my  task,  and  bent  my  mind  down  to 
it:  my  mistake  was  in  not  demanding  an  opening  character,  and  making 
that  one  in  which  I  could  feel  myself  independent  of  the  humor  of  the 
audience  (which  I  do  not  accuse)  or  of  the  strangeness  of  the  theater. 
I  could  not  touch  any  refreshment ;  I  threw  myself  on  the  sofa,  and 
lay  there  in  a  state  of  mind  that  an  enemy  would  have  pitied.  In  a 
reckless,  hopeless  fever  of  thought  I  went  to  bed,  and  dropped  asleep 
with  my  candle  on  my  pillow ;  I  awoke  to  see  the  danger,  which  was 
really  very  great.  I  slept  again  for  a  short  time,  and  awoke  to  pass 
most  of  the  remainder  of  the  night  in  an  agony  of  despondent  fretful- 
ness  and  sad  anticipations.  Arose  very  little  better ;  my  bath  com- 
posed my  spirits  a  little,  and  "  The  Times  "  newspaper,  which,  though 
not  highly  laudatory,  was  not  written  in  an  unkind  spirit,  gave  me 
back  some  portion  of  my  wonted  tranquillity.  The  other  papers  were 
very  cold  ;  I  sent  them  with  a  letter  to  my  dear  Catherine. 

5th.  —  Went  to  theater,  and  in  acting  Macbeth  felt  that  I  carried 
my  audience  along  with  me.  I  was  earnest,  majestic,  and  impas- 
sioned. The  applause  was  enthusiastic,  and  I  was  obliged  to  go  on 


344  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1835. 

at  the  close  of  the  play.  I  redeemed  myself,  arid  most  grateful  do  I 
feel  in  saying  "  Thank  God."  Talfourd  came  into  my  room,  and  said 
he  had  "  never  seen  me  finer,  if  indeed  I  had  ever  played  it  so 
well." 

AVallace  asked  "Why  the  d — 1  didn't  I  play  it  so  on  Thursday?" 
Tried  on  dress  for  Hamlet. 

1th.  —  Acted  Hamlet,  to  judge  by  the  continued  interest  and  the 
uniform  success  of  all  the  striking  passages,  better  than  1  ever  played 
it  before.  Forster  and  Wallace  came  into  my  room ;  the  former 
thought  it,  as  a  whole,  the  best  he  had  ever  seen  ;  AVallace  told  me 
afterwards  that  he  would  have  been  "  satisfied  with  less  effect." 

Wth.  —  Asked  Bunn  for  a  private  box  for  Mrs.  Spurgin,  to  which 
he  assented,  and  I  procured  the  ticket.  Settled  also  about  my  salary, 
that  in  receiving  £10  for  the  first  half-week  I  was  to  receive  £'35  for 
the  last.  Dunn"  and  Jones  were  present. 

12th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  and  acted  Macbeth  before  Her  Maj- 
esty and  a  full  house.  The  audience  did  not  come  solely  and  pur- 
posely to  see  "  Macbeth,"  and  the  labor  to  keep  their  attention  fixed 
was  extreme.  AVallace  came  round  and  said  I  acted  very  well :  I 
tried  to  do  so,  but  am  not  confident  of  my  success.  Talfourd  and  For- 
ster came  to  my  room.  Bunn  told  me  he  must  do  "  Othello "  on 
Thursday.  I  said  "  /  could  not."  He  "  must."  I  "  would  not."  He 
sent  me  up  a  note  to  know  which  I  would  do,  Othello  or  lago,  on 
Thursday.  I  returned  for  answer,  lago,  and  would  not  do  Othello  at 
all.  lie  then  sent  Cooper1  to  me,  to  whom  I  said  the  same,  and  in 
answer  to  his  inquiry  said,  "  I  would  not  do  Othello  under  a  week's 
notice."  He  left  me  without  fixing  anything.  I  was  very  much  fa- 
tigued. Talfourd  suggested  the  propriety  of  ascertaining  the  inten- 
tions of  the  management,  and  I  waited  for  Cooper  ;  while  speaking  to 
him  Bunn  came  up,  and  wished  me  to  go  into  the  room  and  talk  it 
over.  He  was  as  civil  as  a  dog,  the  dragooning  attempt  had  failed; 
and  after  some  conversation  "  Othello "  was  fixed  for  AVednesday 
week,  and  "The  Provoked  Husband"  for  Thursday  next. 

lot/i.  —  AVent  to  theater,  and  acted  Lord  Townley  in  a  very  medi- 
ocre manner,  occasionally  with  spirit,  but  with  an  utter  absence  of 
finish  and  high  deportment.  Spoke  to  Cooper  on  hearing  of  its  in- 
tended repetition  on  Saturday,  and  told  him  that  I  could  not  do  Othello 
on  AVednesday  if  my  time  were  thus  taken  from  me. 

lG//i.  —  AVas  introduced  by  Bunn  to  Mr.  Joseph  Parkes,  whom  I 
had  long  wished  to  know. 

AVent  to  theater  and  acted  Hamlet,  not  as  I  did  the  last  time  —  I 
felt  then  the  inspiration  of  the  part;  to-night  I  felt  as  if  I  had  a  load 
upon  my  shoulders.  The  actors  said  I  played  well.  The  audience 
called  for  me  and  made  me  go  forward.  Wallace,  Forster,  and  II. 
Smith,  who  came  into  my  room,  all  thought  I  played  well  —  but  I  did 
not.  I  was  not  satisfied  with  myself — there  was  effort,  and  very  little 
free  flow  of  passion. 

1  Then  stage  manager  at  Drury  Lane.  —  ED. 


1835.  N.  P.   WILLIS.  345 

2lst.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  and  felt  very  nervous  and  unsettled; 
reasoned  with  myself,  and  partially  recovered  my  self-possession  ;  but, 
in  truth,  was  hurried  out  in  the  part  of  Othello,  and  was  not  perfectly 
possessed  of  it.  The  criticism  I  passed  on  Malibran's  Fidelio  will  ex- 
actly suit  my  own  Othello  —  it  was  "  elaborate,  but  not  abandoned." 
In  the  early  scenes  I  was  abroad,  making  effort,  but  not  feeling  my 
audience  ;  in  the  jealous  scenes  I  had  attention,  and  certainly  had  no 
reason  to  be  discontented  by  the  degree  of  intelligence,  skill,  or  effort 
shown  by  lago ; l  but  the  audience  seemed  to  wait  for  Kean's  points, 
and  this  rather  threw  me  off  my  balance.  In  the  soliloquy  after  lago's 
exit  I  in  some  degree  asserted  myself,  and  though  not  up  to  my  own 
expectations  in  the  "  Farewell,"  etc.,  yet,  in  the  grand  burst,  I  carried 
the  house  with  me.  From  that  point  I  should  say  the  performance 
averaged  good,  but  was  not  in  any,  except  that  one  outbreak,  great. 

2(Jth.  —  Lay  very  late,  thinking  over  the  play  of  last  night  (Othello), 
and  revolving  in  my  mind  the  slow  and  comparatively  unprofitable  ad- 
vance of  my  reputation ;  the  danger  it  runs  from  the  appearance  of 
every  new  aspirant,  and  the  reluctant  admissions  that  are  made  to  it. 
Walked  in  the  garden,  and  inhaled,  with  grateful  and  tranquil  pleasure, 
the  pure  air  of  the  country. 

November  2d.  —  Mr.  Yates2  wished  to  speak  to  me  before  I  left  the 
theater  ;  I  went  to  his  room  after  the  play  was  finished.  I  soon  per- 
ceived which  way  the  conversation  was  pointing.  It  appeared  from  his 
showing  that  Mr.  Bunn  had  no  funds  to  carry  on  the  concern  if  it 
failed,  and  that  the  proprietors,  to  meet  the  effect  of  the  Co  vent  Gar- 
den reduced  prices,  had  agreed  to  let  one  third  of  the  rent  stand  over 
till  Christmas  if  the  actors  would  do  the  same  with  their  salaries ;  and 
to  me,  in  the  first  instance,  the  proposal  was  made. 

He  said  that  I  was  underpaid  in  proportion  to  the  other  salaries.  I 
said  I  knew  that,  but  did  not  murmur  at  it ;  I  would  think  of  his  pro- 
posal, and  see  him  on  Wednesday. 

5th.  —  Went  to  dine  with  F — .  Hope,  the  Cattermoles,  and 

Forster  dined  there  ;  Hayward,  N.  P.  Willis  and  bride,  and  some  other 
unknowns  came  in  the  evening.  The  day  was  to  me  cheerful  and 
pleasant,  but  I  was  an  instance  of  the  bad  effect,  which  Buhver  judi- 
ciously observes  in  "  Pelham,"  of  holding  an  argument  in  mixed  soci- 
ety. I  liked  my  host  and  hostess  very  much,  and  the  guests.  I  felt 

much  amused,  and  indeed  gratified.  Mrs.  F sang  some  very  sweet 

and  touching  songs,  the  words  by  her  husband,  the  music  by  herself. 
It  was  strange  that  as  I  gazed  on  her,  receiving  and  imparting  pleasure, 
my  imagination  presented  me  her  form  in  death  —  the  hands  actively 
pressing  music  from  the  instrument,  stark  and  cold,  and  the  lips  rigid 
and  pale,  that  now  poured  forth  such  touching  sounds.  Hayward  in- 
troduced me  to  Willis,  with  Avhom  I  chatted  of  America.  Note  from 
Talfourd,  who  "  assumes  that  '  Ion '  is  to  be  acted." 

1  Vandenhoff  was  lago,  Cooper  was  Cassio,  and  Ilarlcy,  Roderigo ;  Mrs.  Yates 
was  the  Desdemona,  and  Miss  E.  Tree  the  Emilia.  —  ED. 
'2  Acting  manager  at  Drury  Lane,  —  ED. 


MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1835. 

10/7*. —  (Sale  of  the  Granly.)  Looked  over  " The  Souvenir"  till 
Mr.  Powell's  arrival  in  the  afternoon.  He  produced  the  papers,  and 
on  ascertaining  the  time  of  the  bank's  closing,  we  went  in  a  cab  to  the 
city,  where  I  received  from  Willis  and  Co.  £2,000  on  account  of  M  r. 
Bunn.  Returning  to  chambers,  signed  the  different  papers  of  sur- 
render and  mortgage,  and  received  the  title-deeds,  etc.  Holding  a 
straw,  the  other  end  of  which  was  held  by  Mr.  Powell  (according  to 
the  usage  of  the  Forest  of  Knaresborough),  I  made  the  declaration  of 
surrender,  went  over  the  list  of  title-deeds,  and,  all  being  right,  and 
having  vainly  invited  Mr.  Powell  to  Elstree,  and  written  him  orders, 
he  took  leave. 

Elstree,  November  1 Gth.  —  Intended  to  take  a  long  walk,  but  recol- 
lecting that  my  fire-arms  were  in  a  very  bad  condition,  I  took  them 
down,  and  found  them  quite  wet  in  the  barrels.  Read  in  u  L'Alle- 
magne,"  the  chapter  on  Schiller's  "  Robbers  "  and  "  Don  Carlos,"  in 
which  were  some  observations  on  Shakespeare  that  are  most  just,  and 
show  her,  Madame  de  Stael,  equally  well  acquainted  with  our  great 
poet  as  with  those  of  other  countries.  Tried  my  pistols,  etc.  Con- 
tinued after  dinner  my  perusal  of"  Wallenstein,"  which,  for  grand  and 
natural  thoughts,  and  intimate  development  of  character,  may  rank 
with  the  first  specimens  of  dramatic  poetry.  Went  over  the  last  act 
of  *  Bertulphe." 

2\st.  —  Rising,  I  felt  the  peculiarity  of  my  situation  as  regards  my 
profession  —  quite  interdicted  from  its  exercise  during  the  greater 
part,  if  not  the  entire  of  the  season,  and  all  the  hopes  of  profit  from 
new  characters,  upon  the  strength  of  which  I  made  this  engagement, 
utterly  falsified.  There  seems  a  destiny  which  constantly  prevents 
me  from  reaching  that  happy  point  of  success  which  will  give  recom- 
pense to  my  labor.  Like  the  Hebrew  liberator,  I  see  the  promised 
land,  but  am  not  permitted  to  possess  it.  I  do  not  on  that  account 
complain  of  my  fate,  or  lose  my  energies  in  despondency.  On  the 
contrary,  I  resolve  that  I  will  not  yield  to  this  untoward  pressure  of 
circumstances.  I  will  diligently  persevere  in  my  work  of  improve- 
ment, and  endeavor  to  turn  my  leisure  to  rich  account,  "  waiting  the 
event  of  time,"  and  thankful  for  what  I  enjoy. 

23d.  —  Intending  to  read,  I  put  my  books  out,  but  began  to  talk 
over  my  affairs  and  prospects  :  the  probability  of  making  a  successful 
experiment  of  the  drama  at  the  Lyceum,  under  a  new  name,  and  a 
proprietary  of  performers,  the  best  of  each  class,  formed  into  a  super- 
vising committee,  and  receiving,  over  and  above  their  salaries,  shares 
in  proportion  to  their  rank  of  salary,  and  percentage  proportionate  to 
their  respective  advances  of  money.  Talked  over  the  plan  (which 
seemed  practicable  and  promising,  if  Farren  could  be  bound  down)  the 
whole  morning.  The  present  desperate  condition  of  the  drama  makes 
some  step  necessary,  if  it  is  to  be  a  care  and  concern  to  me :  but 
for  my  own  fame,  except  inasmuch  as  my  blessed  children's  welfare 
depends  on  it,  I  am  comparatively  indifferent  —  I  want  the  means  of 
educating  them. 


1835.  MILMAN'S  "HISTORY  OF  THE  JEWS."  347 

Walked  into  the  fields,  taking  the  two  puppies  with  me.  Returned 
to  the  subject  of  myself  and  my  destiny.  Calculated  what  the  actual 
gain  of  this  year  would  be,  as  a  guide  to  my  future  measures  ;  found 
that  from  £200  to  £300  would  be  the  extent  of  this  year's  profit,  and 
that  my  income,  by  the  sale  of  the  Granby,  is  diminished  by  £132. 
If  I  am  to  educate  my  children,  how  am  I  to  have  the  means  with 
such  a  surplusage  ?  —  how  can  I  speculate  at  my  present  period  of 
life  ?  There  is  no  resource  for  me  but  America. 

24th.  —  Read  the  first  chapter  of  the  "  History  of  the  Jews,"  which 
affords  a  curious  specimen  of  the  want  of  sincerity  that  primd  facie 
appears  in  the  attempt  of  Milman  to  reconcile  things  out  of  Nature's 
course  with  probability.  He  is  evidently  incredulous  or  unconvinced, 
and  yet  he  endeavors  to  make  it  thought  that  he  subscribes  to  the 
detail  of  the  miraculous,  where  miraculous,  agency  is  not  needed,  and 
where  the  Almighty  can,  as  He  ever  does,  work  out  His  will  by  means 
but  not  out  of  the  order  of  Nature. 

'2.1  tit.  —  Went  from  chambers  to  dine  with  Rev.  William  Fox, 
Bayswater.  Met  with  him  Mr.  Home,  author  of  "  Cosmo,"  Miss 
Flower,  who  lives  in  the  house  with  Mr.  Fox  and  a  little  girl,  his 
daughter.  I  like  Mr.  Fox  very  much  ;  he  is  an  original  and  profound 
thinker,  and  most  eloquent  and  ingenious  in  supporting  the  penetrating 
views  he  takes.  Mr.  Robert  Browning,  the  author  of  "  Paracelsus," 
came  in  after  dinner ;  I  was  very  much  pleased  to  meet  him.  His  face 
is  full  of  intelligence.  My  time  passed  most  agreeably.  Mr.  Fox's 
defense  of  the  suggestion  that  Lady  Macbeth  should  be  a  woman  of 
delicate  and  fragile  frame  pleased  me  very  much,  though  he  opposed 
me,  and  of  course  triumphantly.  I  took  Mr.  Browning  on,  and  requested 
to  be  allowed  to  improve  my  acquaintance  with  him.  He  expressed 
himself  warmly,  as  gratified  by  the  proposal,  wished  to  send  me  his 
book  ;  we  exchanged  cards  and  parted. 

December  1th.  —  Read  "  Paracelsus,"  a  work  of  great  daring,  starred 
with  poetry  of  thought,  feeling,  and  diction,  but  occasionally  obscure  : 
the  writer  can  scarcely  fail  to  be  a  leading  spirit  of  his  time. 

Elstree,  December  14th.  —  I  was  amused  by  the  superstition  of  our 
servants.  The  cook  observed  that  she  turned  the  beds  every  day  ex- 
cept Friday,  then  she  only  shook  them  ;  and  Phillips  hoped  the  pig 
would  not  be  killed  on  Wednesday,  as  the  fulling  of  the  moon  was  not 
good  for  the  bacon. 

Sunday,  December  20th.  —  Wrote  a  letter  to  Mr.  Chalk,  inclosing  a 
check  for  £25,  to  be  distributed  in  coals  to  the  poor.  Made  up  my 
accounts,  and  went  with  Mr.  Ward  to  afternoon  church.  At  the 
end  of  the  service  went  with  Mr.  Chalk  into  the  vestry,  and  gave  him 
the  letter,  for  which  he  thanked  me,  observing  that  he  wished  the 
practice-  was  more  general,  and  that  he  had  an  argument  the  other 
day  with  a  person  on  the  comparative  merits  of  "  faith "  and  "  good 
works." 

December  2lst.  —  Finished  Milman's  "  History  of  the  Jews."  Read 
the  "  False  Friend  "  of  Vanbrugh  —  a  play  in  which  I  fancied  there 


348  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1835 

was  a  contradiction  to  Pope's  assertion  that  "  Van  never  wanted  wit." 
I  could  not  discover  it. 

December  *2'2d.  —  How  unworthy  do  I  appear  to  myself  when  I  re- 
flect on  the  powers  with  which  I  was  endowed,  and  attempt  to  make 
out  the  account  of  good  that  I  have  turned  them  to  !  The  bulk  of 
mankind,  I  incline  to  think,  flies  to  a  mediating  and  redeeming  benev- 
olence to  silence  the  scruples  of  conscience  and  quiet  the  fears  of  an 
hereafter,  where  the  awful  questions  of  their  deservings  may  be  made. 
They  avoid  atonement  in  their  proper  selves,  and  repose  upon  the  sac- 
rifice which  Christ  made.  Can  this  be  enough  ?  Reason  scarce 
pauses  to  say  No. 

December  2Qlh.  —  Read  in  Moliere's  "Amphitryon,"  which  is  amus- 
ing. How  true  is  — 

"  Lft  foiblcsse  humainc  cat  d'avoir 
Des  curiosites  d'apprendre, 
Ce  qu'on  ne  voudroit  pas  savoir." 

December  2Sth  —  Wrote  note  to  Mr.  Farren.  making  an  appoint- 
ment with  him  for  Saturday  next,  from  which  I  look  for  no  further 
result  than  the  certification  of  the  inutility  of  occupying  my  mind  fur- 
ther with  abortive  schemes  of  regenerating  the  stage.  To  be  assured 
is  one  step  towards  effecting  something,  even  if  not  all  we  wish. 

Read  in  Voltaire's  "  Dictionnaire  Philosophique "  the  articles, 
"  Evangile,"  in  which  the  grounds  for  deciding  on  the  authenticity  of 
the  form  now  used  is  questioned :  "  P^ucharistie,"  in  which  the  doctrine 
of  Transubstantiation  is  effectively  ridiculed  ;  ''  Eveque,"  a  good  satire 
on  Messieurs  les  Eeeques :  exaggeration  —  good  criticism.  Finished 
the  second  act  of  Moliere's  "Amphitryon;"  the  anger,  and  gradual 
relenting,  with  the  graceful  reconciliation  of  Alcmene  is  very  charming. 

December  30lk.  —  After  our  early  dinner  read  the  newspaper,  one 
side  of  which  was  occupied  by  the  American  President's  speech.  I 
read  it  through,  and  think  that  it  is  to  be  lamented  that  European 
countries  cannot  learn  the  lesson  of  self-government  from  our  wiser 
and  happier  brothers  of  the  West. 

December  31s/.  — Frederick  Reynolds  arrived  a  little  after  4  o'clock. 
Busied  myself  with  "house  affairs."  Our  other  guests  were  3Ii-> 
Kenney,  Forster,  Cattermole,  Browning,  and  Mr.  Munro.  Mr. 
Browning  was  very  popular  with  the  whole  party  ;  his  simple  and  en- 
thusiastic manner  engaged  attention  and  won  opinions  from  all  pres- 
ent ;  he  looks  and  speaks  more  like  a  youthful  poet  than  any  man  I 
ever  saw. 

We  poured  out  a  libation  as  a  farewell  to  the  old  year  ami  a  wel- 
come to  the  new.  The  year  is  gone,  and  with  it  much  of  happiness, 
of  care,  and  fear ;  I  am  so  much  older,  and  lament  to  say  not  much 
better,  not  much  wiser.  Let  me  offer  up  prayer  to  God  Almighty, 
Who  thus  far  has  protected  me  and  mine,  to  continue  His  gracious 
blessings  on  the  dear  heads  of  my  beloved  family,  and  to  grant  me 
health  and  energy  to  make  them  worthy  disciples  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
happy  denizens  of  this  our  mortal  state.  Amen. 


1836.  MADAME  DE  STAEL.  349 


1836. 

"  To  much  rest  is  rust ; 
There 's  ever  cheer  in  changing ; 
We  tine  by  too  much  trust, 
So  we'll  be  up  and  ranging." 

Old  Ballad. 


"  Qui  sis,  non  untie  natus  sis,  reputa."  * 

Elstree,  January  5th.  —  Read  first  part  of  "  Conquest  of  Granada," 
found  very  little  in  the  mass  of  rubbish  and  conceit  beyond  the  great 
lines  of  the  "  noble  savage."  'The  following  I  thought  worth  trans- 
cribing : 

"  Prayers  are  the  alms  of  churchmen  to  the  poor, 
They  send  to  Heaven's,  but  drive  us  from  their  door." 

Wth.  —  Lay  for  some  time  revolving  in  my  mind  my  condition  and 
my  prospects,  and  debating  on  them  as  to  the  best  course  to  pursue, 
for  my  dear  children's  sake,  in  my  future  life.  The  plan  most  advisa- 
ble seemed,  to  do  the  best  I  can  with  my  profession  for  the  next  five 
years,  the  term  remaining  of  our  lease,  and  then  to  try  America  — 
God  willing. 

London,  January  llth.  —  "Went  up  with  Billing's,  Letty  accompa- 
nying me,  on  a  most  cheerless  morning,  the  snow  thick  on  the  ground. 
Madame  de  Stael  engaged,  interested,  delighted,  and  instructed  me  on 
my  way ;  her  criticism  on  the  German  actors  and  on  Talma  was  of 
service  to  me.  What  would  I  not  give,  and  what  point  of  excellence 
might  I  not  reach,  if  I  had  critics  like  her  to  my  performances. 

In  reading  Madame  de  StaeTs  lectures  on  the  play  by  Klinger  of 
"  Les  Jumeaux  "  —  the  declaration  of  her  own  sentiments  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  dramatic  art  —  its  exercise  by  distinguished  actors  — •  her 
description  of  the  various  merits  of  Ifland,  Schroeder,  Eckhoff,  and 
Talma  —  my  opinion  of  the  end  and  exercise  of  this  art  is  greatly 
raised,  my  general  feeling  for  it  heightened,  and  my  views  of  the  pains 
and  method  requisite  for  its  study  much  improved.  Most  valuable  sug- 
gestions on  the  death  of  Lear  are  made  by  her  description  of  Schroe- 
der's  performance. 

JElstree,  January  14th.  —  Dined  at  luncheon,  and  walked  round  the 
garden,  bringing  out  the  dogs  for  a  few  minutes.  Read  Voltaire's  ac- 
count of  the  battle  of  Fontenoy,  which  I  have  heard  or  read  is  quite 
fanciful.  Read  Horace's  fifth  Satire,  second  book  with  much  atten- 
tion. Was  struck  with  the  truth,  even  beyond  the  author's  meaning, 
of  Cicero's  observation :  "  Juris  ignoratio  potius  litigiosa  est  quam 
scientia." 2 

1  Think  on  thyself,  and  not  thine  ancestry.  —  ED.  TRANS. 

2  Ignorance  of  the  law  tends  more  to  promote  litigation  than  does  the  knowl- 
edge of  it.  —  ED.  TRANS. 


3.30  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1836. 

Began  to  read  over  Macbeth.  Like  Maclise  over  his  pictures,  I  ex- 
claim, "  Why  cannot  I  make  it  the  very  thing,  the  reality  ?  "  The 
storm  is  most  violent.  God  help  all  the  poor  creatures  obliged  to  bide 
its  pelting. 

The  night  was  so  very  tempestuous  that  we  could  not  sleep,  nor  was 
it  until  near  the  morning,  when  the  torrents  of  rain  succeeded  to  the 
fury  of  the  wind,  that  we  could  get  any  rest. 

loth.  —  Rose  late,  overworn  and  distressed  by  last  night's  watching. 
Continued  the  reading  of  Macbeth,  which  employed  me  through  all  the 
morning  that  I  had  ;  took  a  very  little  dinner  at  luncheon  time,  and 
ran  with  Nina  and  Willie  in  the  garden,  where  we  also  fed  the  dogs. 
Read  with  attention  the  Satire  of  Horace  on  his  own  pursuits,  the 
dialogue  between  himself  and  Trebatius.  Finished  Moliere's  "  Am- 
phitryon," which  is  as  broad  as  pantomime  when  the  dialogue  is  comic, 
indeed,  Sosie  and  Mercure  resemble  two  clowns  in  a  harlequinade 
more  than  anything  else ;  there  is  neat  language  occasionally,  but  it  is 
not  entitled,  I  think,  to  very  high  praise. 

Bristol,  January  17th. —  Healey  was  with  me  betimes,  and  I 
dressed  with  much  comfort,  reaching  the  office,  after  paying  him,  as 
the  coach  was  standing  there.  The  morning  was  very  raw  and  cold, 
and  for  the  first  stage  or  more  I  was  making  up  for  the  deficiency  of 
my  night's  sleep.  Read  a  chapter  in  Locke  on  Partiality,  afterwards 
continued  "  L'Allemagne,"  which  never  wearies  me.  On  whatever 
subject  the  delightful  authoress  touches,  she  utters  opinions  that  en- 
gage your  respect  even  though  you  are  opposed  to  her  views  ;  her  en- 
thusiasm is  so  genuine  that,  even  if  she  delivers  judgment  not  partic- 
ularly profound,  the  sincerity  of  her  convictions  is  impressed  on  you 
by  the  tone  in  which  they  are  given.  Her  enthusiasm  for  music  is 
beyond  what  I  could  have  supposed  a  person,  capable  of  deriving 
pleasure  from  thought,  could  have  felt ;  the  mere  gratification  of  the 
sense,  the  pleasure  of  the  sound,  seems  to  transport  her.  I  cannot 
understand  this. 

ISth.  —  Mr.  Denvil,  who  was  my  Macduff  with  a  pair  of  well- 
grown  mustaches,  told  me  of  his  having  pitched  Mr.  Elliot,  a  panto- 
mimist,  from  a  height  of  eighteen  feet,  in  which  the  pitched,  Elliot, 
gloried  to  that  degree  that  he  even  suffered  pain  from  the  surmise 
that  some  of  the  audience  might  suppose  it  was  a  "  dummy  "  that  was 
thrown  !  Now,  what  is  ambition  in  the  pleasure  its  success  conveys  ? 
Was  the  Duke  of  Wellington  more  inwardly  gratified  after  a  victory 
than  this  man  would  be  if  three  or  four  rounds  of  applause  were  to 
follow  him  into  the  black  hole,  into  which  Mr.  Denvil  or  any  other 
person  might  pitch  him  ?  Gloria  mundi  ! 

Acted  Hamlet.  Oh,  how  unlike  my  London  performances !  The 
best  thing  in  the  play  was  the  grave  scene  ;  I  played  it  well,  the  rest 
was  effort  and  not  good.  Still  worse,  I  was  morose  and  ill-tempered. 
Fie !  fie  !  shall  I  never  outlive  my  folly  and  my  vice  ?  I  fear  not. 

23rf. —  Dow  knocked  at  my  bedroom  door  to  my  great  astonish- 
ment, and  told  me  that  he  had  much  to  talk  with  me  about.  I  dressed 


1836.  DIFFICULTIES  WITH  BUNN.  351 

and,  after  reading  a  letter  from  dear  Catherine,  in  which  she  mentions 
that  Mr.  Cooper  has  sent  a  note  to  me  requesting  me  to  get  ready 
in  "  Marino  Faliero,"  Dow  took  breakfast,  and  informed  me  that  a 
friend  of  his,  whose  name  he  did  not  give  nor  I  inquire,  had,  in  vari- 
ous interviews  with  Mr.  Robertson,  mentioned  my  dissatisfaction  at 
the  treatment  I  had  received  in  Drury  Lane,  and  my  disposition  to 
leave  the  theater  if  an  alternative  presented  itself;  that,  in  conse- 
quence, communication  had  taken  place  between  them,  and  at  last  it 
was  requisite  to  know  on  what  terms  I  should  be  induced  to  remove 
to  Covent  Garden.  We  talked  much  on  the  subject. 

24:(h.  —  Rose,  after  a  very  good  night's  rest,  rather  late,  and  imme- 
diately wrote  to  Mr.  Cooper,  to  be  sent  from  Elstree,  with  the  part  of 
Marino  Faliero  retained  until  some  decisive  arrangement  was  made 
with  regard  to  "  The  Bridal."  Read  the  note  to  Dow,  and  inclosed 
it  in  a  hasty  letter  to  Catherine,  with  directions  to  transmit  it. 

London,  January  28th.  —  Mr.  Cooper  came  to  say  that  they  had 
rehearsed  "  The  Bridal "  that  day,  and  that  Mr.  Bunn  was  ready,  in 
compliance  with  my  agreement,  to  act  it  on  Tuesday  next ;  that  he  him- 
self thought  it  a  shocking  play ;  that  Mr. ,  the  pure-minded, 

highly  cultivated  critic,  thought  it  monstrous  ;  this  I  endured,  and 
waived,  by  observing  it  was  nothing  to  the  purpose,  the  agreement 
was  violated.  I  then  asked  who  had  been  cast  Aspatia?  —  Miss  Tree. 
Who  then  is  to  do  Evadne  ?  I  declare  I  pause  as  I  write  the  name  : 

Mrs. !  To  her,  whom  they  would  not  permit  to  play  the  easy 

part  of  Emilia  at  my  suggestion,  as  being  so  bad,  they  give  a  charac- 
ter that  only  Mrs.  Siddons  could  realize  !  I  said  ''  That  is  enough  ; 
if  you  were  to  pay  me  one  or  two  thousand  pounds  for  it,  I  would  not 
suffer  it  to  be  so  acted ;  but  I  confine  myself  to  the  legal  objection, 
and  on  the  violated  contract  I  demand  compensation."  Mr.  Cooper 
said,  "  I  am  instructed  to  offer  £33  6s.  8d.  and  to  withdraw  the  play." 
I  observed  that  the  same  offer  had  been  made  by  Mr.  Yates,  which  I 
had  treated  with  the  same  indignant  contempt.  "  Well  then,"  said 
Mr.  Cooper,  "  I  am  now  desired  to  ask  you  upon  whose  authority  you 
went  to  Bristol."  I  now  lost  all  temper.  I  answered,  "Upon  my 
own  !  "  and  that  the  question  was  a  gross  impertinence.  Mr.  Cooper 
proceeded  to  state  that  he  thought  it  was  not  justifiable  on  former 
usage,  and  I  replied  it  was.  Dow  entered,  and  he  observed  that  I  was 
ready  to  perform,  if  required,  in  London,  and  that  my  Bristol  engage- 
ment was  made  dependent  on  and  subject  to  that  of  Drury  Lane. 

Elstree,  January  2Sth.  —  The  mid-day  post  brought  a  letter  from 
Cooper,  wishing  to  know  when  I  could  be  ready  in  "  The  Provost  of 
Bruges  ?  "  I  answered  that  I  had  long  since  applied  for  subjects  of 
study  and  had  received  no  answer,  that  I  had  laid  aside  "  The  Provost 
of  Bruges,"  and  could  not  immediately  state  when  I  should  be  ready, 
in  two  or  three  days  I  might  be  able  to  do  so.  I  added  that,  having 
found  that  my  last  week's  salary  had  not  been  paid,  I  desired  it  might 
be  immediately. 

After  dinner  Dow  arrived,  having   come  through   one   continued 


3o2  M  ACRE  ADITS  DIARIES.  1836. 

storm  of  sleet  and  rain  and  snow  from  London ;  he  came  to  inform 
ine,  that  he  had  no  doubt  whatever  upon  the  agreement,  but  that  to 
confirm  his  own  opinion  he  had  gone  down  to  Westminster  and  sub- 
mitted it  to  Talfourd,  who  quite  concurred  with  him  that  Mr.  Bunn 
was  not  justified  upon  that  agreement  in  refusing  to  pay  my  part  of 
my  year's  salary.  Dow  is  certainly  one  of  those  men  who  would  go 
through  fire  and  water  to  serve  me ;  he  has  made  his  way  through  the 
latter  almost  this  evening,  and  is  certainly  entitled  to  my  grateful 
remembrance. 

30th.  —  Received  a  call  for  the  rehearsal  of  "  The  Provost  of  Bru- 
ges "  on  Monday  next.  Resolved  not  to  attend  the  rehearsal  unless 
my  salary  was  duly  paid.  Read  over  the  part  of  "  Bertulphe,"  of 
which  I  do  not  entertain  very  sanguine  hopes,  it  is  too  sketchy  and 
skeleton  like  ;  there  is  a  want  of  substance  and  strength  in  the  thoughts, 
which  are  thin  and  poor ;  its  situation  is  all  its  actual  power.  If  it  be 
successful  it  will  owe  much  to  the  acting. 

London,  February  1st. —  On  my  arrival  at  chambers  I  found  a  note 
from  Cooper  informing  me  that  "  I  had  violated  my  engagement  in 
going  to  Bristol,  and,  in  consequence,  Mr.  Bunn  had  stopped  a  week 
and  a  half  of  my  salary  ;  but  that  if  I  chose  to  give  my  best  services 
to  the  theater  in  a  more  harmonious  way  than  of  late,  Mr.  Bunn  would 
be  very  happy  to  remit  the  stoppage."  To  which  I  immediately 
answered  —  receiving  a  note  from  good  old  Dow,  with  a  play-bill  con- 
taining an  announcement  of  myself  for  Othello  and  Werner,  that 
instantly  decided  me  —  that  "My  engagement,  in  the  opinion  of  an 
eminent  special  pleader  and  a  leading  barrister,  did  not  allow  of  Mr. 
Bunn's  deduction  ;  that  if  he  did  not  intimate  to  me  that  my  demands 
were  paid,  I  should  at  once  close  the  correspondence ;  that  I  should 
wait  in  town  till  3  o'clock."  Dow  came  in,  I  told  him  what  I  had 
done,  and  of  my  resolution  to  quit  the  theater  if  not  paid.  He  agreed 
in  the  propriety  of  the  step  and  would  have  gone  farther,  but  as  I  told 
him,  in  Bacon's  words,  "  A  man  who  has  a  wife  and  children,  has 
given  hostages  to  fortune." 

Mr.  Cooper  called.  He  said,  it  seemed  the  dispute  was  only  about 
terms  of  speech ;  that  he  had  signified  Mr.  Bunn's  willingness  to  pay 
t lie,  money  due ;  and  that  he  supposed,  of  course,  I  should  give  my 
best  services.  I  distinctly  stated  that  it  was  merely  a  question  of 
whether  my  salary,  according  to  my  engagement,  was  or  was  not  paid, 
without  any  other  consideration  ;  if  paid  I  should  go  to  the  theater,  if 
not,  I  should  end  my  engagement. 

3d.  —  Mr.  C.  Buller  called  and  sat  for  some  time ;  we  talked  of  the 
theater  and  the  House  of  Commons.  I  promised  to  give  him  my  best 
assistance  in  mastering  a  weakness  in  his  voice;  I  like  him  very  much. 
Lay  down  in  bed,  and  thought  to  the  best  of  my  power  on  my  night's 
character.  I  began  Othello  with  resolution,  which  was  confirmed  by 
the  kind  reception  of  the  audience ;  but  I  found  myself  a  little  discon- 
certed by  the  strangeness  of  the  theater  during  the  apology  to  the 
Senate,  in  which  my  back  is  turned  to  the  audience.  I  recovered  my- 


1836.  "THE  PROVOST  OF  BRUGES."  353 

self,  and  threw  myself  more  into  the  character  than  I  think  I  had 
previously  done.  I  was  called  for  by  the  audience,  but  this,  if  a  com- 
pliment, was  certainly  much  reduced  in  value  by  Mr.  receiving 

the  same  for  playing  lago  like  a  great,  creeping,  cunning  cat.  Grim- 
alkin would  be  a  better  name  for  his  part  than  the  "  honest  fellow," 
the  "  bold  lago." 

Qth.  —  At  my  chambers  I  found  Palmer,  to  whom  I  gave  orders  for 
my  dress,  which  is  to  be  of  cotton  velvet  and  not  to  exceed  in  cost  £5. 
Read  through  the  part  of  Bertulphe. 

1th.  —  My  spirits  and  health  are  in  a  much  better  state  than  yester- 
day. Angry  and  vain  thoughts  have  been  passing  over  my  mind, 
which  occasionally  my  reason  arrests  and  dissipates  ;  but  they  too 
frequently  recur,  and  interfere  with  my  desire  to  establish  that  equa- 
nimity, from  which  alone  true  magnanimity  can  spring.  I  am  not 
what  I  would  be  —  God  !  how  far  removed  from  the  height  of  my  de- 
sires ;  I  would  live  a  life  of  benevolence,  blessing  and  blest.  But  still 
in  my  contracted  sphere  I  have  much  to  do  and  much  to  enjoy ;  and 
if  I  could  only  tranquillize  my  mind,  subdue  my  impatience,  and  regard 
the  actual  effects  of  things,  not  fret  myself  with  guessing  or  imputing 
intentions  I  might  reap  as  much  of  this  life's  happiness  as  most  men. 
I  will  strive  to  do  so.  May  the  blessing  of  God  be  with  me. 

Sent  a  note  to  Mr.  Lovell,1  who  returned  me  his  MS.  with  a  note 
and  the  payment  for  it.  Wrote  answers  to  Jerdan,  Fanny  Twiss, 
Fred  Reynolds,  and  wrote  to  my  dear  Catherine.  After  this  I  went 
over  the  part  of  Othello,  and  took  occasional  exercise.  As  a  sort  of 
diversion  to  my  thoughts  previous  to  entering  on  Bertulphe,  I  read  in 
Byron  the  "  Ode  to  Venice,"  which  contains  some  beautiful  thoughts, 
powerful  descriptions,  and  the  grandest  sentiments.  The  gradual 
coming  in  of  Death  is  fearfully  accurate,  nor  could  the  transition  to 
another  state  be  expressed  better,  more  vaguely  in  the  ultimate  con- 
dition, or  more  certain  in  the  immediate  eifect,  than  is  done  in  the 
line, 

"  and  the  earth, 

That  which  was  the  moment  ere  our  birth." 

Shall  we  never  profit  by  the  lesson,  which  all  history  teaches  us,  or  are 
we  doomed  by  the  base  appetites  of  our  nature  to  eternal  thralldom, 
physically  and  intellectually  ? 

"  Ye  men  who  pour  your  blood  for  kings  as  water, 
What  have  they  given  your  children  in  return  ? 
A  heritage  of  servitude  and  woes, 
A  blindfold  bondage,  where  your  hire  is  blows. 
All  that  your  sires  have  left  you,  all  that  time 
Bequeaths  of  free,  and  history  of  sublime, 
Springs  from  a  different  theme." 

Read  many  stanzas  in  fourth  canto  of  "  Childe  Harold,"  carried 
along  from  deep  musings  of  great  events  to  beautiful  descriptions 
which  made  the  earth  and  air  pass  before  me,  and  rested  among  the 

1  Author  of  The  Provost  of  Bruges.  —  ED. 
23 


854  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1836. 

ruins  of  Rome,  where  everything  is  again  visible  and  distinct  as  I 
read.  Thrasymene,  Clitumnus,  Terni,  Cicero,  Caesar,  Brutus,  Horace  ; 
the  columns  and  the  arches  ;  the  Capitol  and  the  Palatine :  alternately 
occupy  and  employ  my  thoughts  while  reading  this  splendid  poem. 

9M.  —  Went  over  the  part  of  Bertulphe,  trying  some  parts,  but 
feeling  the  scandalous  conduct  of  Mr.  Bunn  in  allowing  so  few  re- 
hearsals to  a  play  which  may  be  perhaps  lost  by  his  behavior.  I  am 
quite  uncertain  of  the  play,  and  am  certain  of  my  own  very  crude 
and  unpracticed  conception  of  my  own  character. 

Wt/t.  —  Went  to  rehearsal  ("  Provost  of  Bruges  "),  sparing  myself 
as  much  as  I  could.  In  the  wardrobe  was  told  that  Mr.  Bunn  would 
not  find  me  pantaloons,  and  I  was  resolved  to  purchase  none  ;  was 
very  angry  and  therefore  very  blamable.  Received  a  note  from  Sally 
Booth,  requesting  orders  ;  but  seeing  Bunn  in  the  theater  I  could  not 
permit  myself  to  ask  for  any.  Wrote  a  note  to  Sally  Booth  and  to 
Pemberton  excusing  myself  from  giving  the  admissions  requested.  Lay 
down  after  looking  out  what  was  needed  for  the  evening,  and  thought 
carefully  over  the  latter  scenes  of  the  play.  Went  to  the  theater  very 
tranquil  in  spirits,  but  was  slightly  disconcerted  by  the  very  culpable 
negligence  of  my  dresser.  Resolved  to  take  no  wine  before  I  went  on 
and  to  trust  to  my  spirits  to  bear  me  up  until  fatigue  came  on.  Mis- 
judged in  doing  so;  my  nervousness,  from  want  of  due  preparation, 
was  so  great  as  to  mar  my  efforts  in  the  first  scene,  which,  in  spite  of 
my  best  attempts  at  self-possession,  was  hurried  and  characterless. 
Gulped  down  a  draught  of  wine,  and,  growing  more  steady  from  scene 
to  scene,  increased  in  power  and  effect ;  but  it  was  a  hasty,  unpre- 
pared performance,  the  power  of  which  was  mainly  derived  from  the 
moment's  inspiration.  The  applause  was  enthusiastic,  and  I  was 
obliged,  after  long  delay,  to  go  before  the  audience.  Dow,  Cattermole, 
Forster,  Browning,  and  Talfourd,  came  into  my  room,  and  expressed 
themselves  greatly  pleased  with  my  performance,  but  did  not  highly 
estimate  the  play. 

IGth.  —  Forster  and  Browning  called,  and  talked  over  the  plot  of  a 
tragedy,  which  Browning  had  begun  to  think  of:  the  subject,  Narses. 
He  said  that  I  had  bit  him  by  my  performance  of  Othello,  and  I  told 
him  I  hoped  I  should  make  the  blood  come.  It  would  indeed  be  some 
recompense  for  the  miseries,  the  humiliations,  the  heart-sickening  dis- 
gusts which  I  have  endured  in  my  profession  if,  by  its  exercise,  I  had 
awakened  a  spirit  of  poetry  whose  influence  would  elevate,  ennoble, 
and  adorn  our  degraded  drama.  May  it  be  ! 

Acted  Bertulphe  better  than  the  two  preceding  nights.  Looked 
through  the  leaves  of  the  play,  in  a  book  wet  from  the  press.  The 
author  has  said  all  in  his  power  to  express  his  gratitude  to  me.  I  did 
more  for  Mr. and  nearly  as  much  for  Miss .  The  first  re- 
quited me  by  slight  and  avoidance ;  the  latter  by  libel  and  serious 
injury. 

Read  Joanna  Baillie's  play  of  "  Basil,"  which  I  think  can  scarcely 
be  made  pathetic  enough  for  representation  ;  there  is  a  stiffness  in  her 


1836.  BULWER'S  "LA   VALLIERE."  355 

style,  a  want  of  appropriateness  and  peculiarity  of  expression  distin- 
guishing each  person,  that  I  cannot  overcome  in  reading  her  plays  :  it 
is  a  sort  of  brocaded  style,  a  thick  kind  of  silk,  that  has  no  fall  or 
play  —  it  is  not  the  flexibility  of  nature. 

London,  February  l$th.  —  Mr.  C.  Buller  called,  and  sat  for  about  an 
hour  and  a  half,  talking  and  reading.  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  im- 
prove him  in  his  mode  of  speaking. 

20th.  —  Note  from  Bunn,  stating  his  inability  to  continue  the  per- 
formance of  the  "  Provost"  if  the  terms  were  not  moderated.  Note  to 
Cooper,  and  inclosed  Bunn's  letter  to  Mr.  Lovell. 

22d.  —  Found  a  note  from  Mr.  Lovell,  and  one  to  Bunn  relinquish- 
ing half  his  stipulated  payment,  that  to  me  is  a  carte  blanche,  but  urg- 
ing, at  any  pecuniary  sacrifice,  the  continuance  of  the  play's  perform- 
ance. Went  out,  and,  calling  at  the  theater,  saw  Bunn,  and,  without 
showing  Mr.  Lovell's  note,  inquired  what  he  would  wish  taken  off  the 
stipulated  payment.  He  ended  by  proposing  £10,  to  which  I  very 
gladly  agreed.  Returning  to  chambers,  wrote  to  Mr.  Lovell  an  ac- 
count of  what  had  passed  with  Bunn. 

23d.  —  C.  Buller  called,  very  much  beyond  his  time,  and  excused 
himself  by  stating  that  he  had  been  detained  in  cramming  O'Connell 
for  a  speech  on  the  Orange  Society  question.  He  stayed  with  me 
above  an  hour  and  a  half,  during  which  I  gave  him  what  ought  to 
prove  valuable  instruction.  Appointed  to  dine' with  and  accompany 
him  to  the  House  on  Thursday.  Called  on  Bulwer,  whom  I  found  in 
very  handsome  chambers  in  the  Albany.  He  told  me,  after  talking 
about  "  The  Provost  of  Bruges,"  and  recalling  our  conversation  in 
Dublin,  that  he  had  written  a  play  ;  that  he  did  not  know  whether  I 
might  think  the  part  intended  for  me  worthy  of  my  powers,  for  that 
inevitably  the  weight  of  the  action  fell  upon  the  woman  ;  that  the  sub- 
ject was  La  Valliere.  He  handed  me  a  paper  in  which  I  read  that  it 
was  dedicated  to  myself.  It  almost  affected  me  to  tears.  I  could  not 
read  it.  He  wished  me  to  read  tiie  play,  give  my  opinion,  and  that 
he  would  make  any  alterations  I  might  suggest.  I  appointed  to  see 
him  to-morrow. 

24th.  —  Read  very  attentively  over  the  play  of  "  La  Valliere,"  and 
made  my  notes  upon  what  I  thought  it  needed. 

25th.  —  Called  on  Bulwer ;  we  talked  over  the  play,  and  I  men- 
tioned my  objections,  at  the  same  time  suggesting  some  remedies.  He 
yielded  to  all  readily,  except  the  fifth  act ;  upon  that  he  seemed  in- 
clined to  do  battle,  but  at  length  I  understood  him  to  yield.  We 
talked  over  terms.  He  was  not  satisfied  with  Bunn's  proposal,  but 
added  to  that  £200  down,  and  to  be  paid  through  the  two  following 
seasons  £5  per  night,  after  which  the  copyright  to  revert  to  him. 
This  is  rather  a  hard  bargain ;  I  do  not  think  Bunn  will  concede  so 
much. 

March  3d.  —  My  birthday.  Lifting  up  my  heart  in  grateful  prayer 
to  God  for  a  continuance  of  His  mercies  vouchsafed  to  me,  I  begin 
this  day,  the  forty-third  anniversary  of  my  birth.  Humbly  and  ear- 


356  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1836. 

nestly  do  I  supplicate  His  goodness  for  the  health  and  peace  and 
virtue  of  my  beloved  family,  and  that  He  will  be  graciously  pleased 
to  sustain  me  in  all  righteous  intentions,  and  to  purify  my  mind  from 
all  low  and  debasing  thoughts  and  inclinations,  that  by  His  gracious 
help  I  may  live  through  what  he  allots  to  me  of  further  life  in  peace 
of  heart  and  increasing  wisdom,  educating  my  dear,  dear  family  in  His 
faith,  fear,  and  pure  love,  and  being  myself  a  blessing  in  my  affection 
and  assistance  to  my  dearest  wife  and  also  my  dear  family.  Amen. 

A  very  painful  rheumatism  with  which  I  awoke,  became  more  dis- 
tressing as  I  proceeded  with  my  toilet  Particular  moments  in  our 
lives,  even  in  spite  of  ourselves,  produce  in  us  that  uncertain  guessing 
at  the  future,  that  balancing  of  the  mind  between  hope  and  fear,  which 
induces  us  to  lean  to  any  shadowing  of  the  hereafter  in  anything  of 
external  nature  that  the  disposition  of  the  moment  may  convert  into  a 
presage  of  good  or  ill :  we  cannot  help,  under  certain  influences,  the 
domination  of  superstition.  I  could  not  believe  a  man,  strong  as  wis- 
dom is  to  combat  the  absurdity,  who  would  vouch  that  he  never  had 
yielded  to  such  momentary  weakness.  A  very  unusual  visitor,  indeed 
one  I  never  before  saw,  a  white  pigeon  or  dove,  perched  itself  on  the 
apple-tree  opposite  my  window,  and  was  seated  there  when  I  rose  and 
during  some  time  while  I  was  dressing.  I  could  not  help  receiving  a 
soothing  influence  from  its  appearance  as  the  first  object  to  greet  my 
sight  on  this  day.  Went  to  my  beloved  Catherine's  bedroom,  found 
her  and  her  dear  babe  well,  and  received  her  gratulations  with  tearful 
eyes  (I  know  not  why),  and  I  was  touched  by  the  little  voices  of  my 
children  wishing  me  "  many  happy  returns  "  of  the  day. 

Acted  Virginius,  not  at  all  in  my  best  style  ;  had  to  contend  against 
noise  made  behind  the  scenes  louder  than  our  voices  on  the  stage. 
Still  I  strove  and  was  partially  effective  ;  called  for  at  the  end  and  was 
very  enthusiastically  received  by  the  audience. 

While  preparing  to  go  to  the  theater  I  was  struck  with  the  splen- 
dor of  the  sun  that,  setting,  burst,  from  a  mass  of  clouds  that  had 
dimmed  his  brightness  through  the  day,  and  in  the  afternoon  quite 
obscured  it.  It  seemed  a  presaging  type  to  me  that  my  own  life, 
checkered  and  darkened  as  it  has  been,  should  be  serene  and  bright 
at  its  close. 

Qtk.  —  To  Bath.  —  (In  the  stage-coach.)  Captain  Bouchier,  as  I 
soon  learned  his  name  to  be,  talked  much  ;  among  other  subjects  men- 
tioned young  Kean's  success  at  Bath,  told  me  that  he  knew  him,  ami 
that  his  dresses  cost  him  £300  per  annum,  that  he  was  very  pleasant 
and  related  many  amusing  stories  about  the  theater.  One  of  Ma- 
cready,  who  is  a  good  actor,  but  he  can  never  play  without  applause. 
He  went  on  one  night  to  play  and  no  notice  was  taken  of  him,  on 
which  he  said  to  the  manager,  "  I  cannot  get  on,  if  they  do  not  ap- 
plaud me."  Upon  which  the  manager  went  round  and  told  the  audi- 
ence that  Mr.  Macready  could  not  act  if  they  did  n.ot  applaud  him. 
When  Macready  re-appeared,  the  applause  was  so  incessant  as  to  dis- 
concert him,  and  he  observed,  "  Why,  now  I  cannot  act,  there  is  so 


1836.  EXETER.  357 

much  applause."  I  told  him  I  rather  discredited  the  story.  "  In 
short,"  I  observed,  "  perhaps  I  ought  to  apologize  to  you  for  allowing 
you  to  tell  it  without  first  giving  you  my  name  —  my  name  is  Ma- 
cready."  He  was  very  much  confused,  and  I  as  courteous  in  apologiz- 
ing as  I  could  be. 

1th.  —  Werner. 

8th.  —  Virginius. 

IQth.  _  «  Provost  of  Bruges." 

1 2th.  —  Received  letters  from  my  beloved  wife,  from  dear  Letitia, 
and  Mr.  Bartley,  communicating  to  me  Mr.  Bunn's  intimation  to  the 
Drury  Lane  Company,  through  Mr.  Cooper,  of  his  inability  to  carry 
on  the  theater  beyond  Lent  unless  the  company  consented  to  a  reduc- 
tion of  their  salaries !  I  am  not  included  in  this  precious  business  by 
the  terms  of  my  engagement.  It  is  right  that  I  should  well  ponder 
the  issues,  before  I  decide  to  become  a  party  to  any  movement.  Once 

I  stood  forward  for  the  art,  and  the  actors,  Mr.  B at  their  head, 

deserted  me.  "  Provost  of  Bruges." 

Bristol,  March  \±th.  —  Went  to  the  theater.  There  was  a  good 
house,  good  old  Bristol.  I  acted  Bertulphe  particularly  well  to  an 
audience  who  came  to  be  delighted.  Was  loudly  called  for  by  the 
audience,  and  longly  and  loudly  cheered  when  I  went  forward.  I  told 
them  how  happy  I  was  to  receive  their  applause,  and  hoped  next  sea- 
son to  have  another  new  play  to  submit  to  their  judgment. 

Exeter,  March  \§lh.  —  Othello. 

llth.  —  Werner. 

18th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  had  the  satisfaction  to  have  a 
very  numerous  audience.  As  I  dare  not  strip  my  rheumatic  arm,  I 
was  obliged  to  act  Virginius  in  my  shirt  sleeves.  What  would  a 
French  critic  have  said  or  done  ?  The  extreme  carelessness  of  the 
actors  very  much  distressed  and  disabled  me.  It  was  inexcusable ; 
I  tried  to  overcome  it,  but  I  could  not  lose  myself,  so  perpetually  was 
I  recalled  to  the  painful  reality  of  the  unfit  state  of  things  about  me. 
Between  the  third  and  fourth  acts  the  manager  came  into  my  room  to 
apologize  for  a  delay  of  some  minutes,  while  Mr.  H.  Hughes  stripped 

the  toga  and  decemviral  insignia  from  Appius  Claudius,  a  Mr.  B , 

and  invested  himself  with  them  to  finish  the  character,  Mr.  B — — 
having  been  so  excessively  drunk  as  to  tumble  from  the  sella  curulis 
in  the  forum.  Oh,  Rome  !  if  the  man  had  been  acting  Cato,  it  might 
have  been  taken  for  a  point  of  character.  This  is  the  profession  which 
the  vulgar  envy,  and  the  proud  seem  justified  in  despising !  I  come 
from  each  night's  performance  wearied  and  incapacitated  in  body,  and 
sunk  and  languid  in  mind ;  compelled  to  be  a  party  to  the  blunders, 
the  ignorance,  and  wanton  buffoonery,  which,  as  to-night,  degrades  the 
poor  art  I  am  laboring  in,  and  from  which  I  draw  an  income  that 
scarcely  promises  me,  with  a  moderate  scale  of  expenditure,  a  comfort- 
able provision  for  my  old  age  and  a  bequest  for  my  children. 

\$th.  —  A  letter  from  Mr.  Mude  informed  me  that  my  terms  at 
Plymouth  were  acceded  to,  which,  much  as  I  long  to  return  home,  I 


358  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1836. 

was  very  much  pleased  to  learn.  Seeing  that  there  was  a  prospect  of 
making  something  out  of  the  week,  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Woulds,  offering  to 
play  at  Bath  on  Saturday.  I  would  not,  on  ordinary  occasions,  for 
trifling  gains  harass  myself,  but  here  is  a  prospect  of  adding  to  my 
invested  money,  and  such  an  occasion  is  not  idly  to  be  neglected. 
Wrote  to  Mr.  Mude.  Buller  called  and  sat  for  about  an  hour ;  ho 
was  very  agreeable,  seems  very  candid,  and  has,  I  think,  a  quick  in- 
sight into  character.  Wrote  me  some  franks.1  At  the  theater  the 
manager  came  in,  with  an  elongated  visage,  to  say  that  "  the  rascal " 
of  a  prompter  had  sent  him  a  note  that  moment  to  the  effect  that  he 
had  "  never  been  so  insulted  as  he  was  that  morning,  and  that  he 
should  in  consequence  not  come  to  the  theater  this  evening."  (This 
prompter  had  given  away  the  prompt-book  during  rehearsal,  for  which 
the  rehearsal  was,  of  course,  obliged  to  wait,  and  he  was  censured  for 
doing  so  —  this  is  the  head  and  front  of  the  offending  against  this  vag- 
abond.) These  are  players.  Some  willing  hearts  set  to  work  to 
"  double,  double  toil  and  trouble,"  and  doubled  accordingly  their  own 
parts  with  his.  I  sent  my  dresser,  also  a  sort  of  actor,  for  my  bag, 
and  to  call  about  a  warm  bath  —  I  waited  his  return  until  it  became 
necessary  to  think  of  time  ;  I  proceeded  to  do  all  I  could  —  at  last  my 
mind  misgave  me  that  the  arch-rebel  had  perhaps  "  drawn  after  him  " 
some  of  Hay's  power.  I  sent  for  my  clothes,  which  were  brought  by 
a  strange  messenger,  and  the  fatal  truth  came  out  that  the  dresser 
could  not  get  by  a  public-house,  had  been  sucked  in  by  the  maelstrom, 
and  sunk  its  victim.  I  had  recommended  Mr.  Hay  to  send  after  the 
other  vagabond,  but  his  answer  was  "  God  bless  you,  sir !  he 's  dead 
drunk  by  this  time,  that's  it!  He  has  written  this  letter  on  the  beer  — 
he  's  pot-valiant.  He  '11  never  be  found  to-night."  Well,  with  the 
abdication  of  one  and  the  desertion  of  the  other  we  got  through  very 
tolerably ;  though  never  did  the  assumer  of  royalty  justify  the  act  of 
regicide  more  truly  than  the  Earl  of  Flanders  this  evening. 

2 1st.— William  Tell. 

22rf.— -  Macbeth. 

23d.  —  Werner. 

24/A.  —  Tried  to  act  well  to  a  very  good  house  ;  was  disconcerted 
at  first  by  fancying  that  some  persons  in  the  stage  box  were  uncivil, 
when  I  found  they  were  warmly  admiring.  Still  more  thrown  off  my 
balance  by  a  letter  from  Mr.  Cooper,  giving  me  notice  of  "  Richard 
III."  for  Easter  Monday.  Oh,  Mr.  Bunn  —  I  was  distressed  at  first, 
and,  as  usual,  angry,  but  soon  reasoned  myself  into  complacency,  or  at 
least  resolution  not  to  let  it  be  any  advantage  to  the  man  who  thinks 
to  annoy  me  and  perhaps  to  make  me  relinquish  my  engagement  — 
but  it  is  a  night's  uncomfortable  feeling  and  then  an  end  !  It  cannot 
kill  my  reputation,  for  my  reputation  does  not  rest  upon  the  past ;  I 
•will,  however,  do  my  best  with  it.  Acted  as  well  as  I  could  to  a  very 
prepossessed  audience,  who  would  make  me  go  forward  at  the  end, 
which,  after  much  delay,  I  did. 

1  Charles  Buller  was  then  M.  P.  for  Liskcard,  and  the  privilege  of  parliamentary 
franking  was  still  in  existence.  —  ED. 


1836.  PREPARING  "ION"  FOR  THE  STAGE.  359 

Plymouth,  March  25th.  —  In  the  "Examiner"  newspaper  I  see  a 
paragraph  stating  that  the  King  has  appointed  "  Alfred  Bunn,  Esq.," 
one  of  his  honorable  gentlemen  at  arms  !  "  Oh,  thou  world  !  thou  art 
indeed  a  melancholy  jest." 

El  sir  ee,  March  29th.  —  Answered  by  acceptance  the  invitation  of  the 
Literary  Fund  Committee  to  be  steward  at  their  festival. 

April  4th.  —  Letter  from  Talfourd,  proposing  to  be  here  on  Friday. 
Head  over  "  Ion,"  in  order  to  get  a  general  idea  of  its  arrangement. 

8th.  —  On  Talfourd's  arrival  about  three  o'clock,  we  went  over  the 
play,  he  not  offering  an  objection  to  all  my  omissions.  After  dinner 
we  settled  the  terms  of  the  announcement ;  Letitia  returned  from 
town.  Talfourd  and  myself  went  together  in  his  carriage  to  town. 
On  our  way,  in  speaking  of  the  heart-burnings  and  littlenesses  prac- 
ticed in  the  theatrical  profession,  and  observing  that,  though  lawyers 
said  that,  in  their  vocation,  they  were  exposed  to  equal  annoyances, 
yet  there  was  the  restraint  which  the  character  of  gentlemen  laid  on 
them ;  Talfourd  surprised  me  by  replying  that  he  did  not  think  there 
were  any  unworthy  feelings  displayed  from  rivalry  or  envy  at  the  bar. 
I  did  not  acquiesce  in  his  opinion,  but  it  served  to  convince,  me  of  the 
happier  life  they  lead  who  do  not  stop  in  their  life's  journey  to  remove 
every  impediment  from  their  path  and  kick  every  bramble  out  of  their 
way  —  how  much  more  easily  and  more  readily  the  traveler,  who 
steps  over  the  dirt,  goes  out  of  the  way  of  obstinate  hinderances,  and 
leaves  the  thorns  through  which  he  picks  his  path,  attains  the  goal  of 
his  desires !  Talfourd's  easiness  of  disposition,  his  general  indulgence 
for  others'  faults,  and  good-natured  aversion  to  dispute,  has  proved,  in 
the  happiness  that  has  resulted  from  such  amiability,  the  best  wisdom. 

10th.  —  "The  Iron  Chest"  seemed  to  me  an  alternative,  if  "Ion" 
be  out  of  the  question,  for  my  benefit,  should  I  feel  myself  capable  of 
studying  the  character  in  time,  which  is  doubtful. 

llth. —  Read  over  the  part  of  Sir  Edward  Mortimer,  to  see  if  I  could 
adopt  it  for  my  benefit.  Found  I  could  not  do  justice  to  myself  in  it. 

jLondon,  April  \kth.  —  Mr.  Kenneth  called  from  Mr.  Osbaldiston, 
to  learn  whether  I  would  make  an  engagement  at  Covent  Garden ; 
after  much  disjointed  chat,  I  said  that  I  had  no  wish  to  go  to  that 
theater,  but  that  for  money  I  would,  viz.,  for  £20  per  night  for  twenty 
nights.  He  is  not  likely  to  give  it,  and  nothing  but  the  want  of  money 
could  induce  me  to  ask  it. 

Took  all  the  pains  I  could  with  Macbeth,  but  had  not  made  due 
preparation  ;  acted  pretty  well,  but  did  not  finish  off  some  of  my  effects 
so  well  as  I  should  have  done  with  a  little  more  preparation.  The 
audience  persisted  in  calling  for  me,  and  cheered  me  most  enthusiasti- 
cally. 

Talfourd  came  in  from  the  House,  where  he  had  been  speaking  on 
flogging  in  the  army.  He  said  that  he  was  nervous  and  rapid,  but 
listened  to  with  great  indulgence.  Showed  him  a  letter  from  Ellen 
Tree  which  I  had  just  received,  in  which  she  mentioned  her  intention 
of  being  in  town  22d  May,  and  her  willingness  to  study  Clemanthe  for 


360  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1836. 

me.  Neither  Cooper  nor  Bun  were  in  the  theatre,  so  that  nothing 
could  be  settled. 

loth.  —  Wrote  to  Ellen  Tree  in  answer  to  hers  received  last  night. 
Called  at  the  theater  to  speak  about  my  night,  and  my  dress  for  King 
John.  Speaking  to  Mr.  Cooper,  I  saw  in  the  play-bill  that  I  was  an- 
nounced for  to-morrow  night  in  "  William  Tell"  as  the  after-piece.  I 
directly  told  Mr.  Cooper  that  I  woulil  not  do  it ;  that  it  was  utterly 
unjustifiable.  He  said  it  was,  but  I  had  better  write  a  letter,  disclaim- 
ing Mr.  Bunn's  right,  and  do  it  on  that  occasion.  I  refused.  He  then 
said,  "  What  shall  I  do  ? "  wanting  me  to  play  King  Henry  IV. 
(Second  Part)  as  an  after-piece  on  his  night.  He  talked  about  my 
uukindness  in  not  doing  it  for  him,  but  I  cut  the  conversation  as  short 
as  I  could.  Palmer  had  left  the  wardrobe  and  I  went  on,  calling  at 
the  Garrick  Club,  where  I  read  the  list  of  the  celebrators  of  Shake- 
speare's birthday. 

16th.  —  Rose,  after  revolving  all  modes  of  meeting  and  treating  this 
business,  with  the  purpose  of  endeavoring  to  obtain  an  engagement 
that  there  should  be  no  recurrence  of  this  half-price  work,  and  so  far 
to  concede.  Sent  a  note  to  Dow,  after  having  seen  the  announcement 
in  the  bills,  requesting  him  to  call  here,  and  a  note  to  Cooper  to  the 
same  effect.  Dow  called  and  we  talked  over  the  affair ;  he  was  very 
averse  to  my  appearing  in  "  William  Tell "  this  evening,  but,  like  my- 
self, had  a  dread  of  giving  offense  to  the  public.  Whilst  he  went  on 
an  embassy  to  Cooper  to  state  my  consent  to  perform  the  part  this 
night,  provided  an  engagement  was  given  that  nothing  of  the  sort 
should  recur  during  my  engagement,  and,  in  the  event  of  Mr.  Bunn 
refusing  to  give  such  pledge,  that  I  should  hold  Cooper  personally  re- 
sponsible for  anything  he  might  say  derogatory  to  my  interests  this 
evening  (all  of  which  he  did  in  a  very  direct  and  spirited  manner),  I 
wrote  out  a  copy  of  a  handbill,  to  be  delivered  at  the  doors  of  the 
tin  ater,  giving  notice  of  my  non-appearance.  It  was  then  agreed 
finally  between  us  that  I  should  stand  on  the  guarantee  (having  been 
required  to  appear  in  two  plays  as  after-pieces)  and,  if  it  were  refused, 
that  I  should  not  act. 

A  note  came  in  a  yielding  tone,  but  declining  to  give  the  undertak- 
ing against  recurrence  of  the  matter,  and  I  wrote  shortly  back  that  on 
no  other  condition  would  I  consent  to  appear. 

Spoke  to  Mr.  Cooper  about  my  benefit  night,  to  which  I  required 
an  answer,  and  asked  him  if  he  was  authorized  to  send  the  note  he 
did  ?  He  said  No,  for  Mr.  Bunn  was  not  in  the  theater,  but  that  sub- 
sequently he,  Bunn,  had  sanctioned  it.  This  I  believe  to  be  an  equiv- 
ocation. He  dared  not  have  given  the  guarantee  in  Mr.  Bunn's  name 
unless  Bunn  had  left  him  a  discretionary  power  to  that  effect.  There 
seemed  to  be  a  very  general  feeling  of  disgust  at  Mr.  Bunn's  behavior 
among  the  people  connected  with  the  theaters. 

Had  not  been  able  to  read  "  William  Tell,"  but  took  all  the  pains 
in  my  power  with  its  performance,  and  rendered  it  very  effective,  par- 
ticularly when  the  lateness  of  the  hour  is  taken  into  account.  The 


1836.  CAST  OF  "ION."  361 

audience  did  not  move  till  the  very  last,  and,  after  going  to  my  room, 
I  was  obliged  to  return  at  the  call  of  the  remaining  audience,  who 
would  not  depart,  and  who  cheered  me  most  enthusiastically.  Talfourd 
and  Forster  had  come  into  my  room,  and  stayed  with  me  whilst  I  un- 
dressed. 

So  ended  a  day,  and  thus  was  passed  over  a  threatening  danger, 
which  might  have  had  an  evil  influence,  with  a  different  issue,  on  my 
whole  future  life.  As  it  is,  the  events  of  to-day  are  more  likely  to 
make  friends  for  me  than  enemies. 

The  thought  of  my  children  several  times  to-day  served  to  retard 
and  to  impel  me,  as  I  grew  into  passion  or  sunk  into  despondency. 

Elstree,  Sunday,  April  17th.  —  Took  Billing's  coach  to  Elstree ; 
slept  a  little  of  the  way,  and  thought  upon  and  read  "Ion  "  for  the  re- 
mainder. The  fog  was  quite  a  November  one  ;  lights  in  all  the  open 
shops,  and  in  many  of  the  breakfast-rooms.  I  could  not  see  to  read 
in  town.  Found  on  my  arrival  all  well,  thank  God.  A  note  from 
Power  accepting  our  invitation  for  Saturday  next.  Settled  my  ac- 
counts. Could  not  help  feeling  how  much  I  had  to  be  thankful  for  in 
the  enjoyment  of  so  much  quiet,  when  I  reflected  on  the  tumult  of  care 
and  apprehension  into  which  a  false  step  yesterday  might  have  thrown 
me. 

In  going  to  afternoon  church,  called  at  the  Chalk's  to  write  an  order 
for  Tuesday  which  they  had  sent  to  request. 

London,  April  ISth.  —  Wrote  to  Mr.  Cooper,  sending  him  the 
prompt-book  of  "  Ion,"  and  the  cast  of  the  characters  as  I  should  ad- 
vise ;  at  the  same  time,  to  save  any  pain  to  his  feelings,  I  wrote  a  note 
to  Mr.  Brindal  asking  him,  as  an  indulgence  to  myself,  to  play  the 
part  of  Crythes,  which  I  had  assigned  to  him. 

Wrote  a  letter  to  Ellen  Tree,  apprising  her  of  the  night  fixed  for 
the  performance  of  "  Ion,"  and  thanking  her. 

Returning  to  dinner,  wrote  notes  to  Farren,  Harley,  and  Bartley, 
requiring  them  to  meet  here  on  Wednesday,  to  consider  our  condition, 
and  its  chances  and  means  of  amendment. 

Idth.  —  Went  to  rehearsal,  when  I  arranged  my  dress,  there  being 
nothing  in  the  theater  that  could  be  worn.  Notes  of  orders  and  prom- 
ise of  attendance  to-morrow  from  Farren  and  from  Kenneth,  convey- 
ing to  me  Mr.  Osbaldiston's  refusal  to  accede  to  the  terms  I  had  men- 
tioned. I  feel  no  regret  at  it ;  for  it  is  money  purchased  at  a  heavy 
cost  of  feeling  to  go  into  that  theater.  Saw  Bartley,  who  promised  to 
call  to-morrow.  Went  to  the  Garrick  Club,  where  I  saw  the  papers 
and  dined.  Wrote  notes  with  orders  to  Dyer  and  Wallace,  which, 
when  I  reached  chambers,  I  sent  by  Harding.  Note  from  Harley  with 
promise  of  attendance  to-morrow.  Wrote  to  dear  Catherine  about 
house  affairs.  Rested  for  a  short  time.  Paid  account  —  the  carpet 
and  rug  which  were  bought.  Read  part  of  "  King  John  "  —  laid  out 
my  clothes  and  went  to  the  theater.  An  anonymous  admirer  wishes 
me  to  play  Hotspur  and  Caius  Gracchus.  Acted  King  John  in  a  way 
that  assured  me  that  I  could  play  it  excellently ;  it  seemed  to  make 


3G2  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1836. 

an  impression  on  the  house,  but  I  did  not  make  it  sure,  finished,  and 
perfectly  individualized.  Some  fools  set  up  a  monstrous  hubbub  at 
the  passage  of  defiance  to  the  Pope,  and  Mr.  Charles  Dance  told  me 
afterwards  in  the  greenroom  that  the  Catholics  would  "cut our  throats." 
Is  it  a  sin  —  or  ought  it  not  to  be  —  to  have  the  faculty  of  reason  and 
the  power  of  cultivating  it  by  examination,  and  yet  remain  so  low  in 
the  intellectual  scale  ? 

Mrs. was  very  ineffective  in  the  effective  part  of  Constance. 

What  a  character !  But  it  is  because  every  line  is  so  effective,  that 
common  minds  cannot  rise  from  one  level,  and  have  not  the  skill  by 
contrast  and  variety  to  give  relish  and  effect  without  great  effort. 

20th.  —  l\{r.  Bartley  came  to  his  appointment,  and  we  fell  into  a 
general  conversation  upon  the  condition  of  the  theaters,  and  the  means 
of  restoring  the  art  to  a  better  state.  He  spoke  of  my  situation  as  at 
the  very  head  of  my  profession,  and  his  readiness  to  go  onward  in  any 
path  that  I  might  point  out  as  likely  to  lead  to  success ;  he  also  cor- 
rected the  statement  of  his  letter  to  me  in  Bath  about  the  advance  of 
money,  saying  that  he  would  not  render  himself  liable  to  unknown 
responsibilities,  but  that  as  as  far  as  one,  two,  three,  or  even  more 
hundred  pounds  would  go,  he  would  not  hesitate.  I  told  him,  that  was 
all  I  could  expect,  and  all  that  I  myself  intended  to  venture  ;  that  I 
believed  I  was  a  poorer  man  than  any  of  the  parties  summoned,  with 
heavier  claims  upon  me ;  and  that  nothing  could  induce  me  to  incur 
an  uncertain  responsibility.  Messrs.  Harley  and  Farren  came,  and  I 
told  them  that  I  had  summoned  them  to  learn  their  opinion  and  dis- 
positions in  the  acknowledged  depressed  and  oppressed  state  of  an  art, 
as  to  making  some  effort  towards  its  re-establishment.  It  was  difficult 
to  confine  Messrs.  Harley  and  Farren  to  the  question  ;  they  would 
ramble  to  their  individual  wrongs  and  insults.  I  brought  them  back, 
and  requested  their  separate  declarations  of  their  resolutions  to  co- 
operate or  no.  I  addressed  myself  first  to  Bartley  as  the  eldest  pres- 
ent. He,  with  every  appearance  of  frankness,  gave  his  entire  assent 
to  any  plan  that  wore  a  face  of  likelihood  for  the  drama's  regeneration, 
and  that  as  far  as  £500  would 'go,  he  would  venture.  I  replied,  "  That 
was  all  any  one  could  ask."  Harley  seemed  indisposed  to  go  farther, 
but  rested  upon  a  similar  declaration,  giving  in  his  hearty  adhesion. 
Farren  at  last  gave  his  full  consent  to  go  the  full  length  that  the  others 
had  agreed  to,  and,  unless  Our  union  were  previously  dissolved  by 
mutual  consent,  to  hold  himself  bound  to  its  resolutions  if  acted  upon 
unanimously ;  but  that  if  nothing  effectual  were  accomplished  by  the 
end  of  July,  he,  as  the  rest  of  us,  should  then  be  free  to  pursue  his  own 
separate  interest.  This  point  settled  I  asked  if  any  one  had  any  plan 
to  propose  ?  Bartley  had  ;  namely,  to  call  a  meeting  and  try  and  pre- 
vail on  300  persons  to  lend  £100  each  towards  the  purchase  or  erec- 
tion of  a  theater  for  the  drama,  without  interest  or  free  admission,  but 
with  the  security  of  the  building  for  the  repayment  of  their  principal. 
This  I  immediately  objected  to  as  visionary  and  impracticable. 

After  some  discussion,  we  agreed  to  meet  at  1  o'clock  on  Monday, 


1836.  POCKET  PICKED.  363 

and  consider  on  the  subject  of  a  memorial  to  the  Lord  Chamberlain 
or  to  the  King,  exposing  our  grievances,  and  supported  by  the  names 
and  recommendations  of  all  the  literary  and  influential  men  we  could 
procure  to  sign  it.  It  was  also  agreed  that,  previous  to  its  presenta- 
tion, we  should,  as  I  counseled,  meet  the  D.  L.  Committee  and  confer 
with  them  on  an  offer  started  by  Bartley,  namely,  to  risk  with  them 
the  chances  of  full  or  partial  rent  and  salaries.  On  this  we  parted. 

Elstree,  April  21st.  — The  man  came  to  bottle  the  cider  and,  taking 
Phillips  as  his  aide  de  bouteittes,  began  his  work,  which  I  from  time  to 
time  looked  in  upon.  Gave  the  dear  children  their  dinners  and  after- 
wards walked  with  them  to  Mrs.  Haworth's,  where  I  left  a  card ; 
thence  returning,  we  went  with  the  dogs  to  the  reservoir. 

23d.  —  Resumed  'that  extraordinary  poem  of  "  Paracelsus  "  after 
dinner,  and,  on  coming  from  tea,  began  to  prepare  the  projected  me- 
morial for  a  license  to  exercise  our  calling  and  disenthrall  ourselves 
from  Bunn. 

London,  April  25th.  —  On  my  way  to  the  theater  saw  myself  an- 
nounced for  Richard  III.  Friday  next.  Here  was  the  climax  of  spite  ; 
I  laughed  out  in  the  street  at  it.  It  actually  amused  me. 

Rehearsed  "  Stranger  "  hastily  and  without  care,  which  I  ought  not 
to  have  done.  Harley  came  to  his  appointment ;  Bartley  was  sub- 
poenaed at  a  trial  in  Westminster  ;  and  Farren  did  not  arrive  until  an 
hour  after  his  time  ;  he  was  at  rehearsal.  We  adjourned  to  Saturday. 

27th.  —  At  Garrick  Club,  where  I  dined  and  saw  the  papers.  Met 
Thackeray,  who  has  spent  all  his  fortune  and  is  now  about  to  settle  at 
Paris,  I  believe,  as  an  artist.  Returning  to  chambers,  in  Prince's 
Street,  Drury  Lane,  I  heard  the  exclamation,  "  Sir,  you  're  robbed ! " 
and  saw  a  lad  about  nineteen  rush  by,  pursued  by  a  tradesman-looking 
person.  I  pursued  my  course  a  little  faster  to  see  the  issue ;  the  lad 
threw  down  a  handkerchief  which,  as  I  approached,  I  thought  looked 
like  mine.  I  soon  saw  it  was,  and  received  it  from  a  boy  who  picked 
it  up.  The  pursuer  brought  back  the  thief  and  asked  me  what  I 
would  do.  After  some  hesitation  I  sacrificed  my  reluctance  to  punish 
the  culprit  to  a  sense  of  duty,  and  consented  to  go  to  Bow  Street.  An 
officer  of  the  police  told  me  that  the  magistrate  would  proceed  in  a 
summary  way,  and  commit  him  as  a  rogue  and  a  vagabond.  I  accord- 
ingly went  over  and  waited  some  time  in  the  justice-room  with  the 
prisoner  and  captor,  and  at  last  we  were  taken  before  a  clerk  to  whom 
we  gave  our  depositions.  The  captor's  name  was  Arthur,  an  uphol- 
sterer in  Albany  Street,  Regent's  Park.  The  magistrate  came  in,  and 
instead  of  the  "  summary  mode  "  promised,  bound  me  over  to  prose- 
cute at  the  sessions.  I  think  it  is  a  duty  to  society,  constituted  as  it 
is,  to  do  so,  though  I  should  forgive  the  poor  wretch  if  I  had  the 
power. 

Read  over  King  Henry  IV.,  went  to  the  theater,  and  acted  the  part 
in  my  very  good  style.  I  was  satisfied  with  much  that  I  did. 

Met  Dow,  and  we  set  out,  he  intending  to  accompanying  me  to  the 
theater ;  as  we  passed  along,  he  stopped  to  read  the  play -bill  and  ex- 


364  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1836. 

claimed  "  What 's  that  ?  — «  The  three  first  acts  of  Richard  HI.' "  So 
it  was  announced  in  the  play-bill.  He  observed  "  You  will  not  do  it  ?  " 
and  recommended  me  to  go  and  declare  before  a  witness  to  Mr.  Cooper 
that  I  would  go  on  and  ask  the  audience  whether  they  would  have  the 
play  in  its  mutilated  state  or  complete  ?  I  parted  with  him  at  the  stage 
door,  and  taking  the  prompter  into  Mr.  Cooper's  room,  I  said  as  much, 
not  at  all  angrily,  but  rather  amused.  Mr.  Cooper  said  he  would  com- 
municate the  message  to  Mr.  Bunn. 

Dined  at  the  Garrick  Club,  where  I  saw  newspapers  and  looked 
over  "  Sketches  by  Boz."  Saw  Duruset,  Durrant,  and  Winston,  who 
were  surprised  at  the  "  three  acts."  Lay  down  in  bed  for  an  hour  and 
a  half.  Acted  Macbeth  very  fairly  ;  I  had  to  goad  my  mind  into  the 
character,  for  my  thoughts  wandered  to  the  feverish  state  of  things 

about  me.     Mrs. was  the  Lady  Macbeth  ;  she  should  take  some 

of  the  blame  for  my  occasional  inefficiency  ;  she  was  so  bad,  so  monoto- 
nous, so  devoid  of  all  thought  or  feeling  of  character,  so  artificial,  and 
yet,  as  it  were,  elaborating  nothing.  There  was  no  misconception, 
because  there  was  no  conception,  no  attempt  at  assumption,  it  was  Mrs. 

.     I  gave  Mr.  Warde  a  hard  knock  on  the  head  inadvertently,  or 

rather  through  his  own  awkwardness,  for  which  I  was  sorry,  but  had  I 
laid  it  open  he  could  not  have  displayed  more  agony.  I  was  called  for 
and  obliged  to  go  forward  and  was  very  warmly  received.  Talfourd 
came  to  my  room. 

28th. —  Went  to  the  theater  and  rehearsed  in  the  saloon  "the  three 
first  acts  of '  King  Richard  III'  "  Every  actor  expressing  his  indig- 
nation at  the  proceedings. 

Wrote  a  sort  of  protest  on  the  three  acts  to  Cooper,  but  on  considera- 
tion felt  that  the  thing  was  not  worth  it. 

Tried  in  chambers  to  read — in  vain;  tried  to  compose  myself  by 
sleep,  still  I  was  depressed  and  unable  to  think  on  my  character  for  to- 
morrow night ;  I  tried  and  could  not.  Wrote  a  letter,  a  short  one,  to 
Edward.  Took  tea,  did  what  I  could  to  compose  and  soothe  my  spirits 
—  it  would  not  be  ;  my  inability  to  prepare  myself  in  the  part  of  Rich- 
ard, which  I  have  not  acted  for  more  than  four  years,  by  to-morrow 
night,  quite  weighed  me  down  ;  I  tried  the  part,  the  consciousness  of 
not  having  time  to  duly  consider  and  practice  it  quite  rendered  unavail- 
ing all  attempts.  Passion  and  angry  thoughts,  angry  to  a  degree  of 
savageness  and  desperation,  agitated  me  long  and  painfully. 

If  I  were  prepared  in  the  character,  I  should  laugh  ;  I  am  tormented 
by  painful  doubts  and  misgivings.  Sometimes  I  think  of  resigning  my 
engagement,  which  is  at  least  £250.  I  cannot  do  it ;  let  what  may 
happen  I  must  trust  in  God,  for  God  knows  I  have  very  few  friends 
here.  I  am  very  unhappy. 

29<A.  —  Rose  with  uneasy  thoughts  and  in  a  very  disturbed  state  of 
mind,  which  I  reasoned  into  more  placidity  as  I  proceeded  with  my 
toilet,  but  I  had  difficulty  in  controlling  my  mind,  laboring  under  the 
alternate  sensations  of  exasperation  and  depression.  Wrote  to  Dow, 
that  I  had  settled  on  doing  the  three  acts  to-night,  although  it  was 


1836.  ASSAULT  ON  BUNN.  365 

against  my  engagement.  Called  on  Forster  on  my  way  to  rehearsal, 
who  told  me  of  Kemble's  expression  of  his  indignation  at  Mr.  Bunn's 
behavior.  At  rehearsal  I  spoke  to  Cooper  on  the  stage,  to  the  effect 
that  it  was  not  worth  my  while  to  record  any  protest,  but  that  I  would 
not  do  such  a  thing  again  as  act  in  a  mutilated  play,  my  engagement 
not  warranting  the  fact.  Went  to  Garrick  Club ;  saw  Bartley  and 
Meadows  ;  dined  and  looked  at  papers.  Spoke  to  Winston  about  the 
patents  and  licenses  under  which  the  theaters  are  now  conducted.  He 
promised  to  send  me  copies,  etc.  Charles  Kemble  and  Power  were 
in  the  coffee-room,  and  speaking  of  this  scandalous  and  insulting  pro- 
ceeding. On  coming  to  chambers,  I  wrote  a  letter  to  Lovell  on  the 
subject  of  Bunn's  debt  to  him,  but  thinking  that  it  might  seem  an 
underhand  revenge,  I  threw  the  letter  in  the  lire. 

My  spirits  were  so  very  much  depressed,  so  overweighed  by  the 
situation  in  which  I  was  placed,  that  I  lay  down  to  compose  myself, 
and  thought  over  the  part  of  Richard  as  well  as  I  could.  Went  to 
the  theater  ;  was  tetchy  and  unhappy,  but  pushed  through  the  part  in 
a  sort  of  desperate  way  as  well  I  could.  It  is  not  easy  to  describe  the 
state  of  pent-up  feeling  of  anger,  shame,  and  desperate  passion  that  I 
endured.  As  I  came  off  the  stage,  ending  the  third  act  of  "  Richard," 
in  passing  by  Bunn's  door  I  opened  it,  and  unfortunately  he  was  there. 
I  could  not  contain  myself ;  I  exclaimed  "  You  damned  scoundrel ! 
How  dare  you  use  me  in  this  manner  ?  "  And  going  up  to  him  as  he 
sat  on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  I  struck  him  as  he  rose  a  backhanded 
slap  across  the  face.  I  did  not  hear  what  he  said,  but  I  dug  my  fist 
into  him  as  effectively  as  I  could  ;  he  caught  hold  of  me,  and  got  at  one 
time  the  little  finger  of  my  left  hand  in  his  mouth,  and  bit  it.  I  ex- 
claimed "  You  rascal !  Would  you  bite  ?  "  He  shouted  out  "  Murder  ! 
Murder ! v  and,  after  some  little  time,  several  persons  came  into  the 
room.  I  was  then  upon  the  sofa,  the  struggle  having  brought  us  right 
round  the  table.  Willmott,  the  prompter,  said  to  me,  "  Sir,  you  had 
better  go  to  your  room,  you  had  better  go  to  your  room."  I  got  up 
accordingly,  and  walked  away,  whilst  he,  I  believe,  for  I  did  not  dis- 
tinctly hear  him,  was  speaking  in  abuse  of  me.  Dow  came  into  my 
room,  then  Forster  and  young  Longman.  Wallace  soon  after,  evi- 
dently deeply  grieved  at  the  occurrence.  They  talked  and  I  dressed, 
and  we  left  the  theater  together.  Wallace  and  Forster,  on  Dow  leav- 
ing us,  went  home  with  me,  and,  taking  tea,  discussed  the  probable 
consequences  of  this  most  indiscreet,  most  imprudent,  most  blamable 
action.  Forster  was  strongly  for  attempting  to  throw  Mr.  Bunn  over- 
board, on  the  score  of  character ;  but  Wallace  manifestly  felt,  as  I  felt, 
that  I  had  descended  to  his  level  by  raising  my  hand  against  him,  and 
that  I  was  personally  responsible  for  so  doing.  I  feel  that  I  am,  and, 
serious  and  painful  as  it  is,  I  will  do  my  duty. 

As  I  read  the  above  lines  I  am  still  more  struck  with  my  own  in- 
temperate and  unfortunate  rashness.  I  would  have  gone  through  my 
engagement  in  forbearance  and  peace,  still  enduring  wrong  on  wrong, 
as  for  six  years  I  have  been  doing,  but  my  passions  mastered  me  and 
I  sought  to  wreak  them. 


366  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1836. 

No  one  can  more  severely  condemn  my  precipitation  than  myself. 
No  enemy  can  censure  me  more  harshly,  no  friend  lament  more 
deeply  my  forgetfulness  of  all  I  ought  to  have  thought  upon.  My 
character  will  suffer  for  descending  so  low,  and  the  newspapers  will 
make  themselves  profit  of  my  folly.  Words  cannot  express  the 
contrition  I  feel,  the  shame  I  endure.  In  my  own  village  I  shall  not 
know  what  I  am  thought  of;  my  own  family  know  what  I  have 
suffered,  and  will  pity  me  ;  but  I  have  committed  a  great  error. 
God  Almighty  forgive  me  my  forgetfulness  of  the  principles  I  have 
laid  down  for  myself,  and  grant,  that  I  may  not  suffer  as  I  deserve 
from  the  reflections  which  1  dread  my  friends  will  pass  upon  me. 

30th. — Read  for  about  an  hour  in  bed  last  night,  and  though  at 
first  restless  and  dreaming  of  being  in  the  custody  of  an  officer,  my 
sleep  was  sweet  and  refreshing.  In  opening  Johnson's  "  Lives  "  in 
bed  I  began  upon  the  narration  of  Savage's  unfortunate  rencontre 
with  Sinclair ;  the  idea  of  murder  presented  itself  so  painfully  and 
strongly  to  my  mind  that  I  turned  directly  for  relief  to  another  sub- 
ject. My  thoughts  have  been  scorpions  to  me  ;  the  estimation  I  have 
lost  in  society,  the  uncertainty  and  shame  with  which,  if  I  am  again 
invited  by  those  who  respected  me,  I  shall  meet  their  looks,  is  a  pun- 
ishment which  has  anguish  in  it. 

Henry  Smith  called ;  it  was  evident  the  disastrous  report  of  last 
night  had  brought  him.  I  asked  him  if  there  was  anything  in  the 
paper  ?  He  said  "  Yes  ; "  that  he  was  surprised  at  the  paragraph  in 
the  "  Morning  Chronicle,"  and  had  come  to  ask  if  anything  could  be 
done.  Wallace,  Forster,  and  afterwards  Dow,  came  and  consulted  on 
what  was  best  to  be  done ;  looked  at  the  "  Morning  Chronicle,"  and 
Wallace  declining  to  be  a  party  to  any  draft  of  a  counter-state- 
ment, the  others  adjourned  to  Forster's  chambers  and  soon  after  re- 
turned, having  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  better  to  let  the 
thing  pass.  Wallace  thought  differently,  and  so  did  I,  agreeing  that 
it  would  be  better  a  proper  statement  should  appear  in  preference  to 
an  improper  one.  Forster,  therefore,  was  to  call  on  Collier,  etc. 
Harley,  Farren,'  and  Bartley  called,  first  speaking  on  this  unhappy 
occurrence,  and  then  passing  on  to  the  business  of  our  meeting. 
Mat  hews  called  to  see  me. 

Felt  ashamed  to  walk  through  the  streets,  and  took  a  coach ; 
ashamed  even  to  meet  the  look  of  the  people  in  the  street.  Dined 
with  Power. 

Letters  from  Dunn,  saying  that  Mr.  Buun  was  ill  at  Brompton  ; 
and  from  Mr.  Fox,  kindly  offering  to  do  anything  to  set  the  matter 
right  with  the  public.  Drove  home  in  Dow's  cab.  Told  dearest 
Catherine  and  Letty  of  the  unfortunate  rashness  I  had  been  guilty  of. 
They  were  deeply  distressed. 

May  1st.  —  Called  on  Wallace,  whose  opinions  of  the  necessity  of 
going  out  if  called  were  now  unequivocally  declared,  and  in  which  I, 
as  before,  most  unreservedly  concurred.  Forster  called,  and  gave  me 
some  account  of  the  newspapers,  bringing  with  him  the  '•  Observer" 


1836.  ENGAGEMENT  AT  CO  VENT  GARDEN.  367 

and  "  Examiner,"  which  had  plain  statements  of  my  degrading  act  of 
intemperance.-  My  shame  has  been  endured  with  agony  of  heart,  and 
wept  with  bitter  tears.  The  fair  fame  of  a  life  has  been  sullied  by  a 
moment's  want  of  self-command.  I  cannot  shelter  myself  from  the 
glaring  fact.  But  what  have  my  sufferings  not  been  ?  I  can  never, 
never,  during  my  life,  forgive  myself. 

Went  to  dine  with  Talfourd.     Saw  on  the  placard  of  the  "  Age,'' 

"  Great  .Fight.     B — nn  and  M y."     It  makes  me  sick  to  think  of 

it.  Felt  occasionally  uncomfortable  at  Talfourd's,  but  on  the  whole 
was  more  comfortable  than  I  had  anticipated.  Met  the  Bullers ;  I 
thought  C.  Buller  rather  cold,  and  that  he  was  desirous  of  avoiding  a 
more  intimate  acquaintance  —  I  have  brought  all  such  aversions  on 
myself.  I  have  no  right  to  fortify  myself  in  my  pride  against  the  feel- 
ing of  regret  at  these  consequences  of  my  folly.  Met  Kenyon,  whom 
I  liked,  Chisholm,  young  Ramohun  Roy,  and  many  other  agreeable  • 
men.  I  was  much  relieved  by  the  conversation.  Returning  to  cham- 
bers, tried  to  write,  but  was  overcome  by  sleep. 

2d.  —  On  my  way  to  the  Garrick  Club  saw  a  face  in  a  carriage  I 
thought  I  knew,  and  immediately,  as  I  had  passed,  Malibran  put  her 
head  out  of  the  window,  and  waved  her  hand  to  me.  She  seemed 
bridally  attired.  How  different  her  lot  from  mine  !  She  with  fame, 
affluence,  idolatry  on  every  side :  I,  poor,  struggling  to  maintain  a 
doubtful  reputation,  which  my  own  rashness  endangers,  and  looking, 
as  my  greatest  good,  to  an  independence  which  may  be  just  large 
enough  to  educate  my  children  liberally  and  raise  them  above  want ; 
even  this  is  now  very  doubtful.  What  would  there  be  in  this  world 
for  me  to  live  upon  it,  if  I  had  not  my  wife  and  children  ? 

5th.  —  Dear  Catherine  had  brought  a  letter  from  Kenneth  with  an 
offer  of  £200  for  twelve  nights  from  Mr.  Osbaldiston,  and  an  invita- 
tion from  Calcraft.  I  wrote  to  Kenneth  wishing  to  see  him. 

Kenneth  called  ;  we  talked  on  the  matter,  and  he  took  down  my 
modification  of  Mr.  Osbaldiston's  offer.  I  observed  that  I  did  not  wish 
to  trade  upon,  or  raise  my  terms  on,  this  unfortunate  occurrence  ;  but 
that  I  could  not,  under  the  circumstances  of  the  season,  take  less  than 
had  been  offered  to  other  actors  ;  that  I  did  not  wish  him  to  say  £240 
for  twelve  nights,  but  would  he  say  £200  for  ten  nights,  or  £120  for 
six  ?  For  "  Ion  "  I  also  stipulated. 

6th.  —  Shall  I  ever  know  peace  of  heart  again  ?  The  very  thought 
of  meeting  such  men  as  Young,  so  prudent,  so  discreet,  and  therefore 
so  respected,  of  knowing  that  high-minded  men  like  Colonel  D'Aguilar 
read  in  the  newspapers  my  wretched  self-degradation,  tortures  and 
agonizes  me.  I  close  my  eyes  with  the  hated  idea,  and  it  awakens  me 
with  the  earliest  morning.  I  know  what  misery  is,  that  misery  which 
cannot  be  escaped :  it  is  "myself  "that  am  the  "Hell"  that  is  con- 
suming me. 

Kenneth  returned  with  the  terms  of  Mr.  Osbaldiston,  which  I  ac- 
cepted, viz.,  £200  for  ten  nights,  and  a  benefit  divided,  after  £20,  be- 
ginning Wednesday,  May  llth,  and  ending  Saturday,  June  llth.  I 


368  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1836 

gave  my  promise  to  act  two  nights  in  addition  gratuitously.  Kenneth 
then  went  for  Mr.  Osbaldiston,  and,  returning  with  him,  we  inter- 
changed agreements,  which  I  pray  God  may  prosper. 

1th.  — Found  at  my  chambers  a  note  from  Talfourd,  with  the  books 
of  "  Ion  "  for  Covent  Garden. 

Walked  out  to  call  on  Henry  Smith  ;  in  the  Covent  Garden  play- 
bills my  name  was  blazing  in  large  red  letters  at  the  head  of  the  an- 
nouncement. 

Went  to  the  Garrick  Club.  Kemble  came  in  as  I  was  going  out. 
I  told  the  waiter  to  ask  him  to  step  into  the  stranger's  room,  which  he 
did.  I  said  that  it  had  gratified  me  much  to  hear  of  the  liberal  way  in 
which  he  had  spoken  of  me  before  and  subsequently  to  this  unfortunate 
affair ;  that  I  had  commissioned  my  friend  Talfourd  to  say  as  much  to 
him,  but,  seeing  him  there,  I  chose  to  anticipate  his  intention  and  to 
express  myself  the  sense  I  entertained  of  his  liberal  manner  of  men- 
tioning my  name,  having  so  long  been  in  a  state  of  hostility  with  him. 
He  replied  that  he  had  never  cherished  any  hostile  feeling  towards 
me,  and  that  his  language  had  always  been  in  the  same  tone  ;  that 
every  one  must  feel  indignant  at  the  infamous  conduct  of  this  Bunn 
towards  me,  and  that  he  had  ever  entertained  the  best  feelings  for  me. 
I  drew  off  my  glove,  and  said  that  I  had  much  pleasure  in  acknowl- 
edging the  liberality  of  his  conduct.  He  shook  hands  very  cordially, 
saying  that  it  had  been  always  a  matter  of  regret  to  him  that  our  ac- 
quaintance had  been  interrupted,  and  I  replied,  that  I  regretted  this 
reconcilement  had  been  forced  from  me  by  the  generous  and  liberal 
behavior  which  he  had  shown,  and  had  not  rather  proceeded  spontane- 
ously from  me.  We  then  talked  a  little  of  the  circumstance,  he  ob- 
serving, that  he  was  glad  Bunn  had  not  challenged  me,  as  my  name 
would  be  so  much  more  mixed  up  with  lum  ;  and  I  added,  that  I  was 
not  quite  sure  how  far  it  would  have  been  better  or  no,  as  I  had  made 
arrangements  for  receiving  his  message,  to  which  he  observed,  "  If  you 
were  challenged  of  course  you  must  go  out ;  every  man  must  go  out, 
when  challenged."  We  parted  in  the  hall ;  my  feelings  were  excited 
and  won  over  on  this  occasion  ;  but  I  cannot  help  pausing  to  remark 
how  very  much  I  yield  to  impulse,  instead  of  guiding  my  course 
through  life  on  a  stern,  undeviating  principle  of  justice.  I  call  charity 
only  justice.  I  fear  I  am  often  weak  on  this  account,  and  seem  vacil- 
lating where  I  ought  to  be  unmoving.  I  certainly  feel  no  ill-will  to 
Kemble ;  on  the  contrary,  feel  kindly  disposed  to  him  on  account  of 
his  language,  etc.,  at  this  juncture,  which,  it  is  manifest,  he  wished  me 
to  be  acquainted  with. 

Elstree,  Sunday,  May  8t/i.  —  Walked  round  the  garden,  enjoying  the 
beauty  of  the  morning.  Lost  some  time  in  talking  over  this  eternal 
subject,  which  haunts  and  disqualifies  me  from  giving  myself  to  good 
employment.  After  my  accounts,  I  read  over  Werner.  In  the  after- 
noon I  went  with  Letty  to  church,  which  I  had  to  nerve  myself  to  do, 
but  from  which  I  felt  much  comfort.  The  first  Psalm  struck  me  as 
applicable  to  my  own  condition.  Walked  down  to  the  reservoir  with 


1836.  APPEARANCE  AT  CO  VENT  GARDEN.  3G9 

Catherine,  Letitia,  and  the  children,  taking  the  dogs  with  us.  Sat 
with  the  children  after  dinner,  listening  to  their  hymns  and  hearing 
their  prayers.  God  bless  them.  Felt  overpowered  with  drowsiness  ; 
recovering,  considered  and  wrote  down  what  I  thought  it  proper  to 
say,  if  requisite  to  speak,  to  the  audience  on  the  night  of  my  re-appear- 
ance. Read  prayers  to  the  family.  I  pray  Almighty  God  to  forgive 
my  transgressions  and  extend  His  merciful  protection  to  me  for  the 
sake  of  those  so  justly  dear  to  me. 

London,  May  9th.  —  Came  to  town  by  Sitting's,  reading  "Ion"  by 
the  way ;  alighted  at  Cambridge  Terrace,  and  called  on  Wallace,  who 
told  me  that  the  Sunday  papers  had  not  extended  their  comments  on 
this  wretched  affair,  which  I  was  glad  to  hear.  I  submitted  to  him  the 
address  I  thought  of  delivering  on  Wednesday,  which  he  considered 
as  too  lofty,  and  as  attacking  Mr.  Bunn.  Knowing  that  I  am  not  a 
proper  and  dispassionate  judge  of  my  own  condition,  I  so  far  yielded 
to  his  observations  as  to  leave  the  paper  with  him,  which  he  is  to  re- 
turn with  his  own  views  of  the  style  of  defense. 

Called  at  Covent  Garden  Theater.  Saw  Mr.  Osbaldiston.  Settled 
the  night  of  "Ion,"  26th  instant.  Spoke  about  orders,  dressing-room, 
etc.,  in  all  of  which  Mr.  O.  seemed  desirous  of  accommodating  me. 
Was  introduced  to  Mr.  Fitzball  (!)  the  Victor  Hugo,  as  he  terms 
himself,  of  England  —  the  "Victor  No-go"  in  Mr.  Keeley's  nomen- 
clature. 

10th. —  I  cannot  retire  to  my  bed  to-night  without  registering  the 
humble  and  fervent  prayer  of  my  heart  to  Almighty  God  that,  forgiv- 
ing my  unwise,  unchristian  and  frenzied  conduct,  He  will  of  His  in- 
finite mercy  preserve  me  from  the  many  ills  which  my  conduct  may 
have  provoked,  and  restore  me  to  the  quiet  approval  of  my  own  con- 
science, to  the  love  and  respect  of  my  friends,  and  above  all  to  His 
heavenly  care  and  protection,  through  the  blessed  spirit  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Amen. 

llth. —  A  short  but  most  kind  letter  from  Ellen  Tree;  it  quite 
affected  me.  A  clerk  brought  a  note  from  G.  Barker,  as  I  was  going 
out,  informing  me  that  Evans  had  inquired  of  him  if  he  was  not  my 
solicitor,  as  he  wished  to  serve  a  process  on  me,  he  (B.)  offering  him 
friendly  assistance  towards  settling  the  matter,  which  he  thought 
should  not  come  before  the  public.  I  answered  it,  that  I  had  placed 
myself  in  my  counsel's  hands,  who  had  disposed  of  me,  thanking  him 
kindly  for  his  offer. 

Went  to  the  theater  and,  in  dressing,  still  felt  my  nerves  were  un- 
true to  me ;  looked  over  the  early  part  of  the  play,  and  just  before  I 
went  on  I  screwed  up  to  care  for  nothing,  and  went  boldly  and  reso- 
lutely forward.  On  my  entrance  in  Macbeth,  the  pit  —  indeed,  the 
house  —  rose,  and  waved  hats  and  handkerchiefs,  cheering  in  the  most 
fervent  and  enthusiastic  manner.  It  lasted  so  long  that  it  rather  over- 
came me ;  but  I  entered  on  my  own  task  determined  to  do  my  best, 
and,  I  think,  I  never  acted  Macbeth  more  really  or  altogether  better. 
The  applause  was  tumultuous  at  the  fall  of  the  curtain,  and  the  person 
24 


370  MACREADY>S  DIARIES.  1836. 

who  went  on  was  driven  back  with  cries  of  "  No,"  and  I  went  before 
them.  When  silence  was  gained,  I  spoke  an  address  as  follows  : 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  —  Under  ordinary  circumstances  I  should 
receive  the  manifestation  of  your  kindness  with  silent  acknowledg- 
ment ;  but  I  cannot  disguise  from  myself  the  fact  that  the  circum- 
stances which  have  led  to  my  engagement  at  this  theater,  after  an  ab- 
sence of  many  years,  are  uppermost  in  your  minds. 

"  Into  those  circumstances  I  will  not  enter  farther  than  by  two 
general  observations :  first,  that  I  was  subjected  in  cold  blood,  from 
motives  which  I  will  not  characterize,  to  a  series  of  studied  and  an- 
noying and  mortifying  provocations,  personal  and  professional.  The 
second,  that,  suffering  under  these  accumulated  provocations,  I  was  be- 
trayed, in  a  moment  of  unguarded  passion,  into  an  intemperate  and 
imprudent  act,  for  which  I  feel,  and  shall  never  cease  to  feel,  the  deep- 
est and  most  poignant  self-reproach  and  regret. 

"  It  is  to  you,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  to  myself,  that  I  owe  this 
declaration,  and  I  make  it  with  unaffected  sincerity. 

"  To  liberal  and  generous  minds,  I  think,  I  need  say  no  more. 

"  I  cannot  resist  thanking  you." 

This  seemed  to  affect  many  and  engage  the  sympathies  of  all.  Tal- 
fourd,  Dow,  Smith,  Forster,  Wallace,  Maclise,  and  the  editors  of  the 
"  Post "  and  "  Herald,"  who  wished  a  report  of  the  speech,  came  into 
my  room,  but  I  was  too  nervous  to  have  pleasure  from  their  presence. 
All  were  delighted,  and  I  felt  greatly  relieved  and  truly  grateful. 

13^.  —  O'Hanlon  sent  a  kind,  congratulatory  note  for  orders,  which 
I  sent  him.  Chilton  called,  which  I  thought  kind.  He  told  me  that  I 
could  not  set  off  my  loss  against  Bunn,  but  that  I  must  proceed  by  a 
cross-action,  on  which  I  resolved,  if  attacked. 

Went  to  the  theater  and  acted  Virginius  in  a  splendid  manner, 
quite  bearing  the  house  along  with  me.  My  reception  was  most  en- 
thusiastic on  my  entrance,  and  when  I  appeared  at  last  in  obedience  to 
the  call  of  the  audience. 

14//i.  —  Called  at  the  offices  of  Messrs.  White  and  Whitmore. 
Found  there,  that  the  process  had  been  served  by  Evans,  Buun's  at- 
torney, and  that  they,  W.  and  W.,  had  entered  an  appearance  for  me, 
so  the  battle  is  begun. 

Wrote  to  Calcraft,  inquiring  of  him  what  would  be  his  evidence  on 
"  The  Bridal."  Mr.  Gray  called,  and  we  talked  over  the  matter  of  the 
cross-action,  which  he  thought  should  be  proceeded  on  immediately,  I, 
of  course,  concurring ;  he  seemed  to  think  I  might  go  for  the  whole 
of  my  engagement,  and  it  seems  to  me  only  fair  ;  but  who  can  divine 
the  scope  of  law  ? 

Elstree,  Sunday,  May  1 5th.  —  Walked  round  the  garden,  where  the 
sweetness  and  freshness  of  everything  about  me  might  have  had  a 
tranquillizing  power  over  any  mind  but  one  oppressed  by  a  conscious- 
ness of  error.  Read  and  learned  some  of  the  scenes  of  •'  Ion."  Went 
to  afternoon  church,  and  never  thought  of  the  eclipse1  (I  have  the 

1  An  annular  eclipse  of  the  sun,  this  day ;  began  1  h.  51  m.  p.  M.,  middle  3  h. 
19  m.,  ended  4  h.  39  rn.,  p.  M.  —  ED. 


1836.  FIRST  NIGHT  OF  "ION."  371 

eclipse  of  my  own  character  to  think  of)  until  Mr.  Chalk  mentioned 
it ;  we  had  thought  the  deep  gloom  was  a  forerunner  of  rain.  Mr. 
Chalk  had  given  out  the  afternoon  service  to  begin  at  4  o'clock,  ex- 
pecting the  day  to  be  quite  darkened. 

London,  May  16th.  —  Trial  of  pickpocket  at  Clerkenwell.  Sen- 
tenced to  three  months'  imprisonment. 

18th.  —  Rehearsed  "  Stranger."  Talfourd  and  White  came.  Tal- 
fourd  read  "  Ion  "  in  the  greenroom,  and  was  evidently  happy  in  his 
employment.  Who  would  not  be  ? 

I  was  called  for  by  the  audience,  but  would  not  go  on  without  Miss 
H.  Faucit,  whom  I  led  forward.  Went  afterwards  to  Mrs.  Baker's, 
where  I  saw  Palmer,  Mrs.  Jameson,  Mrs.  Marcet  (not  introduced), 
Talfourd,  and  White,  with  whom  I  adjourned  to  Garrick  Club. 

19^.  —  Rehearsed  "  Ion,"  which  seems  to  me  to  come  out  in  the 
acting  —  we  shall  see.  Spoke  about  my  name  being  put  in  the  bills 
by  Mr.  Osbaldiston  after  Mr.  Kemble's.  This  is  to  me  of  no  impor- 
tance, but  I  have  no  right  to  be  placed  out  of  my  own  rank  before  the 
public.  They,  as  a  body,  know  nothing  of  the  art  and  only  take  their 
opinions  from  what  they  are  told,  therefore  I  have  no  right  to  let 
them  be  told  what  is  not  true  and  against  my  interest. 

A  note  from  Heraud  for  tickets,  which  I  answered,  addressing  him, 
"  My  dear  Sir."  When  my  note  had  gone  I  perceived  his  style  to  me 
was  "  My  dear  Macready."  I  therefore  wrote  another  note  to  dispatch 
in  the  morning,  that  he  may  not  think  me  repulsive  or  proud. 

20th.  —  Henry  Earle  called  as  I  was  dining,  and  he  lunched  with 
me.  He  told  me  that  none  who  knew  me  would  think  worse  of  me  for 
the  late  occurrence.  It  may  be  so,  but  it  is  their  indulgence  that  leads 
them  to  such  lenient  judgment.  I  have  forgotten  the  dues  of  a  gen- 
tleman, it  cannot  be  cloaked  or  denied.  It  is  very  true  that  I  am  not 
sought  for  by  persons  of  rank,  as  they  are  termed,  by  persons  of  dis- 
tinction, but  heretofore  I  could  repel  this  indifference  with  indiffer- 
ence. I  feel  my  title  to  rank  with  any  man  as  a  gentleman  unques- 
tionable :  how  can  I  now  answer  the  objections  that  may  be  made 
against  me  ? 

London,  May  23d.  —  Went  to  the  theater.  The  audience  were  so 
noisy  that  some  scenes  —  the  dagger  soliloquy,  that  between  the  mur- 
derers and  Lady  Macbeth —  could  not  be  heard ;  but  where  I  could  be 
heard  I  did  not  act  badly,  and  the  house  was  very  warm  in  its  testimo- 
nies of  approbation.  I  was  called  for,  and  obliged  to  appear  at  the  end 
of  the  play.  Browning,  Talfourd,  and  Forster  came  into  my  room  and 
stayed  some  time. 

I  recollect  the  disgust  with  which  I  heard  of  a  Mr.  A ,  a  singer, 

fighting  with  a  Mr.  B ,  thinking  to  myself  how  impossible  it  was 

that  I  could  descend  to  lift  my  hand  against  any  one.     Is  it  then  to  be 
wondered  at  that  I  feel  my  degradation  as  I  do  ? 

2Qth.  —  Rehearsed  "Ion"  with  much  care.  Went  to  the  theater 
and  acted  the  character  as  well  as  I  have  ever  played  any  previous  one, 
with  more  of  inspiration,  more  complete  abandonment,  more  infusion 


372  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1836. 

of  myself  into  another  being,  than  I  have  been  able  to  attain  in  my 
performances  for  some  time,  particularly  in  the  devotion  of  Ion  to  the 
destruction  of  Adrastus,  the  parting  with  Clemanthe,  and  the  last  scene. 
Was  called  for  very  enthusiastically  by  the  audience,  and  cheered  on 
my  appearance  most  heartily.  I  said,  "  It  would  be  affectation  to  con- 
ceal the  peculiar  pleasure  in  receiving  their  congratulatory  compliment 
on  this  occasion.  It  was  indeed  most  gratifying  to  me ;  and  only 
checked  by  the  painful  consideration  that  this  might  be  perhaps  the  last 
new  play  I  ever  might  have  the  honor  of  producing  before  them. 
(Loud  cries  of 'No!  No!')  However  that  might  be,  the  grateful 
recollection  of  their  kindness  would  never  leave  me."  Miss  Ellen 
Tree,  I  heard,  was  afterwards  called  forward.  Talfourd  came  into  my 
room  and  heartily  shook  hands  with  me  and  thanked  me.  He  said 
something  about  Mr.  Wallack  wishing  him  to  go  on  the  stage,  as  they 
were  calling,  but  it  would  not  be  right.  I  said,  "  On  no  account  in  the 
world."  He  shortly  left  me.  and,  as  I  heard,  was  made  to  go  forward 
to  the  front  of  his  box,  and  receive  the  enthusiastic  tribute  of  the 
house's  grateful  delight.  How  happy  he  must  have  been  !  Smith, 
Dow,  Browning,  Forster,  Richardson,  etc.,  I  cannot  remember  all,  came 
into  my  room.  I  dressed,  having  sent  to  Catherine  to  request  her  not 
to  wait  for  me,  but  to  go  at  once  to  Talfourd's,  and,  taking  Knowles  in 
the  carriage,  went  there.  I  felt  tranquilly  happy.  Happy  in  the 
splendid  assemblage  that  had  graced  the  occasion,  happy  in  the  triumph- 
ant issue  of  this  doubtful  experiment,  and  happy  in  the  sensation  of  re- 
lief that  attended  the  consciousness  of  its  being  achieved.  I  was  also 
happy  in  having  been  an  agent  in  the  pleasing  work  of  making  others 
happy.  At  Talfourd's  I  met  Wordsworth,  who  pinned  me,  Walter  Sav- 
age Landor,  to  whom  I  was  introduced,  and  whom  I  very  much  liked, 
Stanfield,  Browning,  Price,  Miss  Mitford  —  I  cannot  remember  all. 
Forster  came  to  me  after  supper,  which  was  served  in  a  very  elegant 
style,  and  insisted  that  it  was  expected  in  the  room  that  I  should  pro- 
pose Talfourd's  health,  whose  birthday  it  was.  After  some  contest, 
and  on  the  understanding  that  no  further  speeches  should  be  made, 
and  briefly  alluding  to  the  day  being  the  birthday  of  the  poet,  as  well 
as  to  the  beautiful  play  that  night  presented,  I  proposed  Talfourd's 
health.  He  returned  thanks  and  afterwards  proposed  my  health  with 
much  of  eulogy,  to  which  I  replied  as  I  best  could. 

Subsequently,  Mrs.  Talfourd's  health  was  proposed  by  Douglas,  and 
was  very  pleasantly  and  humorously  acknowledged  by  Talfourd,  who, 
in  a  very  lively  vein  ascribed  to  her  the  influence  which  had  given  birth 
to  much  that  had  been  honored  with  the  praise  of  the  company  —  that, 
in  fact,  the  whole  merit  of  the  production  was  hers,  etc.  It  became 
then  a  succession  of  personal  toasts,  Miss  E.  Tree,  Miss  Mitford,  Mr. 
Stanfield,  Mr.  Price,  Mr.  Poole,  Browning,  and  who  else  I  do  not 
know.  I  was  very  happily  placed  between  Wordsworth  and  Landor, 
with  Browning  opposite  and  Mrs.  Talfourd  next  but  one  —  Talfourd 
within  two.  1  talked  much  with  my  two  illustrious  neighbors.  Words- 
worth seemed  pleased  when  I  pointed  out  the  passage  in  "  Ion,"  of  a 


1836.  CONGRATULATIONS.  373 

"  devious  fancy,"  etc.,  as  having  been  suggested  by  the  lines  he  had 
once  quoted  to  me  from  a  MS.  tragedy  of  his;  he  smiled  and  said, 
"Yes,  I  noticed  them,"  and  then  he  went  on  — 

"  Action  is  transitory  —  a  step  —  a  blow, 
The  motion  of  a  muscle  —  this  way  or  that  — 
JT  is  done  ;  and  in  the  after  vacancy 
We  wonder  at  ourselves  like  men  betrayed."  * 

Landor,  in  talking  of  dramatic  composition,  said  he  had  not  the  con- 
structive faculty,  that  he  could  only  set  persons  talking,  all  the  rest  was 
chance.  He  promised  to  send  me  his  play  of  "  Count  Julian,"  and  ex- 
pressed himself  desirous  of  improving  his  acquaintance  with  me.  I 
spoke  to  Miss  Mitford,  observing  in  badinage  that  the  present  occasion 
should  stimulate  her  to  write  a  play  ;  she  quickly  said,  "  Will  you  act 
it  ?  "  I  was  silent.  Catherine,  who  sat  near  her  and  Harness,  told  me 
that  he  said  "  Aye,  hold  him  to  that." 

We  went  home  together ;  Catherine,  Letitia,  Miss  Howarlh,  and 
myself  in  the  carriage,  talking  of  nothing  but  the  evening's  events  — 
this  happy  evening.  We  reached  home  about  two,  and  went  to  bed 
with  the  birds  singing  their  morning  song  in  our  tired  ears.  Thank 
God! 

28tfi.  —  On  my  way  to  London  vainly  strove  to  occupy  my  thoughts 
with  the  character  of  Cassius ;  deep  and  heavy  sleep  came  on  me  — 
the  effects  of  the  past  excitement  and  fatigue  soon  weighed  me  down. 
Found  at  my  chambers  notes  and  cards  of  congratulation  on  the  suc- 
cess of  "  Ion ; "  sent  a  card  with  message  to  Messrs.  White  and  Whit- 
more.  Called  on  Forster,  who  gave  me  the  criticism  of  the  newspa- 
pers for  Catherine,  of  which  that  of  the  "  Times  "  was  the  warmest, 
though  all  were  enthusiastic.  The  "  Chronicle  "  was  most  niggardly. 
Went  to  the  theater  to  rehearse  "  Cassius,"  and  found  the  call-man 
had  made  a  mistake  of  two  hours  in  my  call.  Saw  Knowles,  who  was 
vehement  in  his  praise.  A  note  from  Arthur  Buller ;  fervent  in  his 
congratulations,  and  confessing  his  surprise  at  the  result.  At  the  Gar- 
rick  Club,  where  I  dined,  I  saw  the  other  papers  —  an  equal  tone  held 
throughout.  Saw  Bentley,  Meadows,  Dow,  Fladgate,  etc. 

I  acted  the  "  Stranger  "  but  indifferently  —  still  was  called  for  by  the 
audience,  and  led  on  Miss  H.  Faucit. 

30lk.  —  Arriving  at  chambers  I  found  a  note  from  Browning.  What 
can  I  say  upon  it  ?  It  was  a  tribute  which  remunerated  me  from  the 
annoyances  and  cares  of  years :  it  was  one  of  the  very  highest,  may  I 
not  say  the  highest,  honor  I  have  through  life  received. 

Went  to  the  theater ;  the  audience  were  rather  noisy  through  the 
early  scenes,  but  I  was  not  disposed  to  yield  to  them.  I  do  not  think 
that  my  reception  was  quite  so  long  as  Kemble's,  or  I  did  not  use  suf- 
ficient generalship  with  it ;  but  I  acted  Cassius  hi  my  very  best  style, 
and  made  the  audience  feel  it.  I  was  good  ;  I  was  the  character  ;  I 
felt  it.  The  audience  were  rapid  and  vehement  in  their  applause ;  I 

1  This  fine  passage  has  been  already  quoted  in  the  Reminiscences,  p.  207.  —  ED. 


374  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  183G. 

was  first  and  most  oudly  called  for  at  the  end  of  the  play.  Knowlrs 
got  through  Brutus  far  better  than  I  anticipated ;  he  came  into  my 
room,  and  said  that  I  was  wonderful.  I  was  certainly  pleased  with  my 
own  performance  this  evening  ;  it  was  fresh,  characteristic,  and  majes- 
tic. Talfourd  came  into  my  room,  and,  among  other  things,  reported 
the  enthusiastic  praise  of  Lady  Blessington  and  D'Orsay  of  my  per- 
formance of  "  Ion."  The  praises  of  Knowles,  the  barrister,  pleased  me 
still  more.  He  told  Talfourd  he  had  laughed  at  the  idea  of  my  per- 
forming "  Ion  ;  "  that  he  hated  me  ten  years  since ;  and  that  he  could 
not  have  believed  that  such  an  improvement  could  have  taken  place  in 
anyone.  To  Forster  also  he  observed  how  I  must  have  studied.  Went 
to  Garrick  Club,  when  Barham  and  Lincoln  Stanhope  came  directly 
to  chat  with  me.  Supped  with  Talfourd,  and  an  "  Ion  "  supper  for 
Friday  next  was  settled. 

3lst.  —  Went  to  rehearse  Clemanthe's  scenes  of  "  Ion,"  and  passed 
on  to  the  Garrick  Club,  where  I  looked  at  the  other  newspapers  ; 
they  contained  nothing.  Met  Winston  on  my  return,  who  told  me 
that  it  had  been  given  out  that  I  had  engaged  for  Covent  Garden  next 
season.  Mr.  Fitzball  came  up,  and  walked  with  me  to  Great  Queen 
Street.  Asking  my  terms,  I  said,  I  should  not  take  less  than  £40  per 
week,  on  my  late  Drury  Lane  articles  —  and  I  would  not  say  that  I 
would  take  that.  Called  on  Messrs.  W.  and  W.,  gave  them  my  case, 
and  talked  with  them  ;  it  seems  settled  to  let  judgment  go  by  default. 
Left  a  card  at  Mr.  Norton's.  Called  on  Miss  Ellen  Tree,  and  sat  with 
her  a  short  time. 

June  2d.  —  Forster  called.  Went  with  me  to  the  Temple,  where  I 
met  Talfourd,  Whitmore,  and  Gray.  The  chances,  etc.,  of  the  differ- 
ent measures  were  discussed.  Talfourd  said  that  Lord  Denman  had 
said,  the  damages  ought  to  be  a  farthing ;  but  my  nature  is  not  san- 
guine. It  was  all  but  concluded  on  to  let  judgment  go  by  default.  I 
cannot  of  course  be  a  judge  in  such  a  case.1 

3d.  —  Called  at  Covent  Garden,  where  I  saw  Mr.  Fitzball ;  spoke 
about  Talfourd's  box,  which  he  promised  to  take  care  of.  He  also 
spoke  to  me  again  from  Mr.  Osbaldiston,  on  the  subject  of  an  engage- 
ment for  next  year,  offering  me  from  him,  first,  £35  per  week,  and 
then  £40  per  week,  and  half  a  clear  benefit,  with  six  weeks'  vacation. 
I  said  I  would  think  about  it.  Acted  "  Ion  "  pretty  well. 

I  went  to  supper  at  the  Garrick  Club,  where  —  Douglas,  in  the 
Chair,  R.  Price,  Vice  —  Planche,  Dance,  Jerdan,  Forster,  Palmer, 
Lucena,  Barham,  Dowling,  and  others,  whom  I  ought  not  to  have  for- 
gotten, received  Talfourd  and  self  at  supper.  It  was  a  pleasant  even- 
ing. Talfourd  replied  to  the  encomiums  passed  on  him  with  great  an- 
imation, alluding  to  his  early  love  for  the  drama,  his  interest  for  Miss 

1  The  assessment  of  damages  in  Bnnn  v.  Macready  took  place  before  Mr. 
Under-Sheriff  Burchcll  and  a  jury,  at  the  Sheriff's  Court,  Red  Lion  Square,  on 
29th  June,  1836.  Mr.  Thesiger"  (afterwards  Lord  Chelmsford)  and  Mr.  Ogle 
were  counsel  for  the  plaintiff;  Serjeant  Talfonrd  and  Mr.  Whitmore  for  the 
defendant.  No  evidence  was  given  for  the  defendant.  The  damages  were  as- 
sessed at  £150.  —  ED. 


1336.  JENNY  VERTPRE.  375 

Mitford,  and  his  friendship  for  me,  whom  he  eulogized  very  warmly. 
I  acknowledged  the  compliment  paid  afterwards  to  myself  without 
embarrassment,  and  alluded  to  the  pure  and  benevolent  spirit  that 
gave  life  to  Talfourd's  work,  and  to  the  faith  I  had  in  the  truth  that 
breathed  throughout  it.  Talfourd  was  obliged  to  go  down  to  the 
house,  a  message  having  come  that  O'Connell  had  just  finished,  and 
that  Peel  was  on  his  legs  —  the  amendment  of  Stanley  on  the  Irish 
tithes.  I  begged  to  propose  the  healths  of  Jerdan  and  Forster,  as  uni- 
form and  earnest  supporters  of  the  cause  of  the  drama.  I  alluded  in 
my  speech  to  the  want  of  fidelity  to  the  cause  of  the  art  in  the  actors 
themselves.  Broke  up  about  2  o'clock. 

§th.  —  Mr.  Gray  called  to  inquire  how  far  the  necessity  of  prompt 
payment  upon  the  assessment  .of  damages,  in  the  event  of  letting  judg- 
ment go  by  default,  would  inconvenience  me  in  a  pecuniary  point  of 
view,  as  that  was  a  matter  to  be  considered  in  arriving  at  a  conclusion 
upon  their  proceedings.  I  told  him  if  the  expense  was  not  likely  to 
exceed  £1,000  the  blow  might  as  well,  or  better,  fall  at  once,  as  hang 
over  my  head.  Talfourd  wrote  to  me,  wishing  to  see  me  on  a  very 
particular  subject.  I  surmised  it  to  be  the  same  as  Mr.  Gray's  com- 
munication, and  sent  to  say  that  Mr.  Gray  would  see  him. 

Elstree,  June  8th.  —  Mr.  Osbaldiston  talked  with  me  about  my  en- 
gagement, and  agreed'to  give  me  £40  per  week  and  half  a  clear  bene- 
fit for  twenty-two  weeks.  "We  are  to  sign,  etc.,  on  Saturday. 

London,  June  Sth.  —  Went  with  Lardrier  to  call  on  Jenny  Vertpre 
in  Albemarle  Street.  I  found  her  a  very  piquante,  engaging  little 
creature,  but  I  think  profoundly  deep.  She  wished  me  to  act  a  scene 
of  "  Virginius "  on  the  occasion  of  her  benefit ;  luckily,  though  I 
should  have  been  very  happy  to  have  served  her,  I  shall  be  engaged 
iu  the  country  when  her  night  takes  place.  I  promised  to  send  her  a 
private  box  for  "  Ion  "  on  Saturday. 

llth.  —  Sent  my  traveling  pillow  to  the  upholsterers  to  be  covered. 
Note  of  invitation  to  Mrs.  Buller,  which  I  answered ;  and,  having 
written  to  Catherine  and  packed  up  my  sword  box,  I  went  to  the  thea- 
(ter,  where  I  saw  Mr.  Osbaldiston,  who  would  most  gladly  engage  me 
for  a  succession  of  nights  to  continue  the  run  of"  Ion." 

Went  to  Garrick  Club  dinner,  where  I  met  Buller,  James  Smith, 
Kenyon,  Walker,  Dowling,  Murphy,  Rushton,  White,  Douglas,  Ray- 
mond, Talfourd,  Jarvis,  etc.  Part  of  the  evening  was  pleasant. 

D was  extremely  drunk,  and  Murphy  grew  extremely  political, 

which  began  to  be  disagreeable  ;  he  was  very  kind  in  his  expressions 
to  me. 

12th.  —  The  principal,  indeed  the  entire,  occupation  of  my  day  was 
packing  for  my  journey  and  my  next  Birmingham  engagement.  For- 
ster called  and  remained  some  time,  whilst  I  continued  my  employ- 
ment, talking  about  all  sorts  of  things.  He  seems  to  think  that  Tal- 
fourd is  quite  in  earnest  about  getting  up  "  Ion  "  as  "  private  theatri- 
cals," and  acting  Ion  himself.  He  alluded  to  it  at  supper  last  night, 
but  I  humored  what  I  supposed  the  joke.  It  begins  to  look  serious, 
for  private  actors  are  very  awful  personages. 


.'57G  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1836. 

Went  to  the  Bell  and  Crown,  paid  my  fare,  and  started  for  Down- 
ham  in  the  Lynn  mail.  I  felt  relieved  by  the  removal  of  all  compul- 
sion to  think,  and  idled  or  slept  away  the  night,  catching  occasional 
glimpses  of  the  long  stretch  of  flat,  rich  country,  and  having  one  de- 
lightful glance  at  the  beautiful  lantern  of  Ely  Cathedral. 

Wisbeach,  June  13th.  —  Was  awoke  in  passing  through  the  street 
of  Downham.  Left  the  mail  and  set  out  in  a  chaise  over  the  flat 
fenny  tract  under  the  dike  of  a  river,  sleeping  until  I  reached  the 
last  mile-stone  from  Wisbeach.  It  was  7  o'clock  when  I  got  to  tho 
inn,  made  myself  a  little  more  comfortable,  breakfasted,  and  began  to 
make  up  arrears  of  journal,  in  which  I  occupied  myself  till  preparing 
for  rehearsal.  Mr.  Robertson  called,  having  hunted  me  out,  and  gave 
me  very  cheering  hopes  of  our  houses  here,  where  he  says  a  great  ex- 
citement is  produced.  I  am  not  used  to  produce  "  excitements,"  but 
my  penny  trumpet  has  a  sound  of  awe  among  Liliputians  —  is  it  not 
so  ?  Went  to  rehearsal,  where  I  very  nearly  fell  asleep  as  I  stood 
upon  the  stage  in  the  scene  with  Osric.  I  very  nearly  fell,  so  com- 
pletely was  I  worn  down.  Dr.  Southwood  Smith  called  and  left  his 
card,  and  I  found  also  a  note  from  Mrs.  Hill  inviting  me  to  supper 
after  the  play.  Mr.  Leach,  the  Mayor,  also  called,  and  was  liberal  in 
his  proffers  of  attention.  I  answered  Mrs.  Hill's  note,  accepting  her 
invitation,  and  gave  Mr.  Robertson  a  book  of  *'  Ion."  I  lay  down 
after  dinner  to  sleep  on  the  sofa,  and  after  an  hour's  sleep  was  obliged 
to  bestir  myself  —  oh,  how  reluctantly!  Acted  Hamlet  with  a  load 
on  every  limb,  sore  feet,  and  my  mind  in  a  doze.  I  was  dissatisfied 
with  myself  and  every  one  about  me.  Went  to  supper  with  Mrs. 
Hill ;  met  Dr.  Southwood  Smith,  and  his  son  and  daughter,  the  latter 
I  liked  extremely  ;  passed  an  agreeable  evening. 

1  Uh.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  and  acted  Virginias  passably  to  a  very 
good  house.  Dentatus  had  to  play  a  fop  in  the  farce,  and  he  antici- 
pated it  in  the  tragedy,  making  the  Roman  Achilles  a  coxcomb. 

loth.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  and  met  the  several  checks  to  the 
abandonment  of  myself  to  Macbeth  with  tolerable  evenness. 

The  thought  of  darling  Catherine  when  a  girl,  as  her  face  looked, 
at  me  in  this  very  play,  arose  and  pleased  my  fancy  for  a  short  time. 
Mrs.  Hill  sent  to  invite  me  to  supper ;  I  could  not  go.  I  find  it  quite 
true,  as  Forster  says,  that  the  performance  of  a  character  is  my  day. 
I  can  do  nothing  else  of  any  moment  when  I  have  an  important  part 
to  act.  I  cannot  do  it. 

Lincoln,  June  ISth.  —  It  seems  difficult  to  .assent  to  the  fact  that 
twenty-one  years  have  passed  away  since  the  battle  of  Waterloo  was 
fought,  my  greatest  interest  in  which  event  is  derived  from  the  remem- 
brance of  Edward's  presence  there  and  the  anxiety  it  occasioned  me. 

Made  up  some  very  heavy  arrears  of  record,  which  occupied  me 
long.  Sauntered  out  to  discover  the  theater  and  see  the  cathedral ; 
found  the  first  very  soon,  and  was  directed  to  the  cathedral,  the  towers 
of  which  rose  directly  before  me.  How  much  pleasure  do  objects  of 
art  afford,  particularly  when  rich  in  associations  as  these  monastic 


1836.  BIRMINGHAM.  377 

temples  are,  whether  general  as  to  the  usages  of  past  times,  or  pre- 
serving any  individual  recollections  !  The  front  of  this  beautiful  pile 
held  me  in  delight  for  some  time,  and  the  very  observation  of  its  im- 
perfectness  is  an  amusement  to  the  mind.  Acted  Virginius. 

Birmingham,  June  20th.  —  Found  a  letter  from  Clarke  of  Liver- 
pool which  annoyed  me.  How  often  I  am  annoyed  ! 

The  last  time  I  played  at  Manchester  for  nine  nights  I  received 
£175  ;  at  Liverpool,  thirds,  and  half  for  six  nights.  Mr.  Clarke  now 
offers  to  insure  me  £150  for  ten  nights.  I  could  scarcely  write  a  civil 
answer,  but  at  last  I  think  I  did,  after  four  angry  efforts.  The  man- 
ager called  to  represent  to  me  that  he  was  the  messenger  of  very  bad 
news ;  indeed,  he  did  not  know  that  we  could  play  to-night,  that  the 
bailiffs  were  in  the  theater !  He  had  desired  Mr.  Armistead  to  apprise 
me  of  the  circumstance,  etc.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  Phipson  called. 
I  said  that  I  was  bound  by  law,  and  could  not  say  I  would  not  play, 
but  would  willingly  give  him  a  release  from  my  engagement,  if  he 
would  ask  me  for  it.  He  said  he  would  see  if  an  arrangement  could 
be  made. 

21st.  —  Bought  an  umbrella  and  went  to  the  theater,  when  I  re- 
hearsed; and  was  glad  to  receive  £29  11s.,  the  half  of  last  night's  re- 
ceipts. 

22d  to  2$th.  —  [Engagement  at  Birmingham  continued.] 

Elstree,  July  4th.  —  To-day  is  the  Anniversary  of  the  American 
Declaration  of  Independence.  I,  as  one  of  the  great  family  of  man- 
kind that  have  profited  by  that  event,  thank  God  for  it ;  how  much 
has  the  great  cause  of  liberty  and  improvement  been  advanced  by  it ! 

7th.  —  I  turned  back  to  the  sad  and  undignified  action,  which  has 
cost  me  so  many  days  of  keen  and,  indeed,  agonized  suffering.  I  find 
a  record  of  imprudence,  want  of  self-government,  moroseness,  precipi- 
tation, imperiousness,  and  tetchiness  that  grieves  and  shames  me.  The 
fact  of  my  ill-temper  cannot  be  concealed,  nor  extenuated  when  ad- 
mitted. I  am  wholly  unjustified  —  religion,  philosophy,  policy,  all  cry 
out  against  me.  I  feel  weary  of  self-complaint  from  the  little  benefit 
I  have  derived  from  it ;  if  I  wish  or  expect  to  pass  through  the  re- 
mainder of  my  life  with  respectability  and  honor,  I  must  overcome 
it.  I  will  try  to  do  so,  and  I  implore  the  blessing  of  God  upon  my 
efforts. 

Sth.  —  After  dinner  read  a  part  of  "  Northanger  Abbey,"  which 
I  do  not  much  like.  Heavy,  and  too  long  a  strain  of  irony  on  one 
topic. 

9^.  —  Lay  down  on  the  sofa,  reading  Miss  Austen's  "  Mansfield 
Park,"  in  hopes  of  being  sufficiently  relieved  to  go  with  the  children 
on  the  water.  The  novel,  I  think,  has  the  prevailing  fault  of  the 
pleasant  authoress's  books ;  it  deals  too  much  in  descriptions  of  the 
various  states  of  mind,  into  which  her  characters  are  thrown,  and  am- 
plifies into  a  page  a  search  for  motives  which  a  stroke  of  the  pen  might 
give  with  greater  power  and  interest.  Is  Richardson  her  model  ? 
She  is  an  excellent  portrait  painter,  she  catches  a  manner  to  the  life. 


378  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1836. 

Sunday,  July  Wth.  —  Went  with  Letitia  to  afternoon  church,  when 
I  read  in  the  Greek  Testament  the  second  chapter,  1st  Thessaloniuns 
and  sixth  John.  Is  it  not  strange  that  John  should  mention  what  no 
other  Evangelist  alludes  to  — our  Saviour's  withdrawal  of  himself  from 
the  multitude,  who  wished  to  make  him  King. 

Finished  "  Mansfield  Park,"  which  hurries  with  a  very  inartificial 
and  disagreeable  rapidity  to  its  conclusion,  leaving  some  opportunities 
for  most  interesting  and  beautiful  scenes,  particularly  the  detailed  ex- 
pression of  the  "how  and  the  when"  Edward's  love  was  turned  from 
Miss  Crawford  to  Fanny  Price.  The  great  merit  of  Miss  Austen  is 
in  the  finishing  of  her  characters ;  the  action  and  conduct  of  her  stones 
I  think  frequently  defective. 

London,  July  14th. — At  Covent  Garden  Theater  met  Mr.  Osbald- 
iston,  and,  after  urging  him  to  engage  Mr.  Vandenhoff  and  Miss  E. 
Tree,  read  my  article  of  agreement  to  him,  to  which  he  assented,  and 
also  to  my  claims  of  flesh-colored  stockings  and  to  the  announcement 
of  my  name  as  first.  We  talked  long,  and  I  was  to  send  him  the  dates 
of  Lent  and  Easter 

Elslree,  July  19th. —  Considered  seriously  the  expediency,  the  pro- 
priety, of  giving  up  my  house,  and  reducing  my  whole  establishment ; 
it  presses  strongly  upon  me,  but  I  will  not  be  rash.  God  grant  that 
I  may  be  wise  and  just  in  my  resolve.  My  blessed  children,  it  is  for 
you  that  I  think,  and  that  I  will  with  a  cheerful  heart  resign  the  luxu- 
ries and  comforts  of  my  present  abode. 

20th.  —  The  whole  of  this  day,  the  morning,  afternoon,  and  evening, 
was  passed  in  examining  my  accounts,  calculating  and  discussing  the 
subject  of  my  last  night's  thought.  I  retired  to  rest  still  undecided,  un- 
able to  ascertain  precisely  the  amount  of  difference  between  a  town 
and  a  country  residence. 

21st.  —  At  last  came  to  the  decision  that  the  small  difference  be- 
tween town  and  country  would  not  overweigh  the  advantages  of  re- 
maining here,  which  we  accordingly  resolved  on  doing. 

London,  July  25th. —  Went  to  look  at  the  exhibition  of  Michael 
Angelo's  drawings  ;  saw  many  of  the  studies  of  the  great  works  I  had 
seen  at  Rome  and  Florence.  Raffaelle  is  called  divine ;  Michael 
Angelo's  name  has  no  epithet  prefixed,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find 
one  to  comprehend  the  character  of  his  genius.  Went  to  Cox  &  Co., 
saw  there  that  Captain  Poyntz  had  again  returned  himself  for  pur- 
chase, and  that  Major  Tongue  would  very  probably  sell.  This  re- 
tards Edward's  chance  of  promotion.  I  cannot  but  look  on  our  army 
as  the  most  unfair  of  all  the  unfair  means  of  life  which  an  aristocratic 
government  affords ;  merit,  without  money  or  interest,  has  scarcely  a 
chance.  Look  to  Philip  van  Artevelde's  first  speech  on  the  chances 
of  mankind,  and  there  is  written  the  degree  of  hope  with  which  cour- 
age, honor,  and  talent  may  trust  themselves  to  the  army  for  reward. 

26M. —  Met  Calcraft  at  my  chambers,  who  talked  about  Dublin, 
and  walked  with  me  to  Covent  Garden  Theater,  where  I  discussed 
with  Mr.  Osbaldiston  the  various  points  of  my  engagements,  to  all  of 


1836.  LIFE  IN  THE   COUNTRY.  379 

which  he  yielded,  and  returned  rne  my  copy  to  be  transcribed  and  sent 
to  him.  Called  at  Garrick  Club  and  waited  half  an  hour  for  Calcraft 
by  appointment,  which  he  did  not  keep,  and  I  went  on  my  way  to  call 
on  Mr.  Lover.  In  my  course  I  purchased  at  Richter's  the  "  Frid- 
olin  "  and  "  Romeo  and  Juliet "  of  Retzsh.  Found  Lover  at  home, 
and  soon  after  Mrs.  Lover  and  his  two  pretty  children  came  in.  He 
called  with  me  on  Briggs,  the  Academician,  whose  price  Smith  wished 
to  know  ;  I  chatted  some  time  with  them,  and  after  inviting  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Lover  for  the  week  after  next,  I  passed  on  to  my  affairs.  Called 
on  Babbs  and  gave  him  orders.  Met  Mrs.  Warren  and  chatted  very 
cordially  with  her. 

27th.  —  At  chambers  I  found  Calcraft,  and  agreed  with  him  to  act 
the  last  five  weeks  of  Lent  in  Dublin,  four  nights  per  week,  for  the 
sum  of  £580. 

Elstree,  July  28th.  —  "Walked  round  the  garden  and  began  to  apply 
myself  to  my  professional  study.  Chiefly  as  a  general  exercise  this 
morning  I  went  over  two  of  the  soliloquies  of  Hamlet.  Worked  in 
the  garden,  clearing  and  pruning  trees  till  dinner-time  ;  after  dinner 
was  in  the  garden  playing  with  the  children.  I  then  walked  down 
with  Catherine  and  Letitia  to  the  reservoir,  taking  the  dogs  with  us. 
Returned  with  sensations  of  extreme  weariness,  fell  asleep  several 
times.  Received  a  very  nice  note  with  a  small  case  of  poems  from 
Miss  Howarth.  Read  two  acts  of  Mr.  Heraud's  play  of  "  The  Con- 
spiracy." 

29th.  —  Walked  in  the  garden  and  came  in  to  resume  my  profes- 
sional studies,  but  was  detained  by  a  calculation  of  the  receipts  and  ex- 
penditure for  the  last  year,  which  presented  me  with  a  very  unsatisfac- 
tory surplus  for  the  future.  This  led  me  into  further  consideration  of 
the  probable  expense  of  a  house  in  the  suburbs  of  London,  and  my 
morning  was  consumed  in  the  examination  of  the  various  plans  by 
which  the  regulation  of  my  expenses  on  a  moderate  scale  could  be  best 
effected.  A  letter  from  Jeston,  wishing  me  to  write  a  sermon  for  him, 
to  be  preached  in  London.  I  could  have  done  this  once,  but  my  abil- 
ities are  weakened  —  my  mind  has  lost  much  of  the  strength  and 
activity  of  its  youth.  I  was  in  the  garden  again  after  dinner ;  be- 
came very  much  depressed  in  thinking  on  my  resignation  of  a  coun- 
try life.  The  sight  of  the  fields  and  trees,  the  pure  health  of  these 
open  skies,  the  free  expanse  of  the  naked  heavens,  looking  quiet,  and 
cheerfulness,  and  hope  to  me  have  at  various  seasons  of  melancholy 
and  weariness  restored  energy  and  alacrity  to  my  mind  and  really  ex- 
hilarated my  spirits.  I  go  into  the  feverish  strife  of  the  world,  I  give 
up  all  of  pleasure  that  external  things  could  impart  to  me  in  losing 
the  enjoyment  of  the  country,  which  has  to  me  been  truly  "  an  appe- 
tite, a  feeling,  and  a  love." 

London,  August  1st.  —  Came  up  to  town  by  Billing's,  in  company 
with  Mr.  and  Miss  Lane,  Browning,  Forster,  and  Mr.  Ainsworth. 
Parted  with  my  guests  ap'parently  well  pleased  with  their  excursion. 
On  my  way  read  very  nearly  the  whole  of  Bulwer's  play  of  "  Crom- 


380  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  18.36. 

well ; "  though  containing  some  passages  happy  in  thought  and  strong 
in  expression,  I  do  not  think,  either  in  respect  to  character,  arrange- 
ment, or  poetical  beauty,  that  this  play  will  quite  reach  the  level  of 
his  existing  reputation. 

Cambridge,  August  2d.  —  Rose  very  early,  and  left  town  at  six 
o'clock  for  Cambridge  ;  took  with  me  the  "Literary  Gazette";  had 
intended  not  to  purchase  a  newspaper  of  the  day,  but  to  wait  till  my 
return  for  the  account  of  last  night's  performance  of  "  Ion,"  on  which 
I  could  not  subdue  a  certain  amount  of  anxiety.  The  degree  was 
manifest  from  the  weakness  of  my  purpose.  The  "  Morning  Herald  " 
was  offered  at  the  coach  windows,  and  I  purchased  it.  The  notice 
upon  the  tragedy  seemed,  with  the  wish  to  be  kind,  a  gentle  letting 
down  of  the  whole  affair.  I  spelled  over  the  papers  and,  with  the  help 
of  a  little  sleep,  thus  passed  the  time  of  my  short  journey.  After  es- 
tablishing myself  in  rooms  at  the  Bull  Inn,  I  made  my  way  to  Mr. 
Denman's  lodgings,  where  his  mother  received  me,  and  gave  me  the 
convoy  of  a  little  girl  to  the  theater  ;  here  I  found  Mr.  Denman,  and 
was,  after  a  loss  of  nearly  two  hours,  severally  introduced  to  his  "  co- 
mates  and  brothers  "  in  folly,  with  whom  I  began  the  rehearsal.  I  was 
as  civil  as  I  could  be,  and  prudently  ordered  my  portmanteau  from  the 
inn  ;  dined  in  my  dressing-room,  and  had  only  time  to  array  myself 
for  the  character  of  Virginius,  when  the  play  began.  It  went  off  better 
than  I  could  have  expected,  and  I  was  called  for  at  the  end,  but  shirked 
the  coming,  being  anxious  to  betake  myself  early  to  bed.  Although  I 
had  prepared  myself  against  any  start  of  passion,  and  felt  myself  "  king 
of  me,"  to  quote  the  absurd  expression  of  Dryden,  yet  as  several 
blunders  and  inaccuracies  fell  out,  I  fell  out  with  them.  I  must  strug- 
gle, but  fear  it  is  a  hopeless  conflict,  God  help  me !  Mr.  Denman 
begged  me  to  accept  a  noted  copy  of  Egerton's  "  Theatrical  Remem- 
brancer," which  I  could  not  refuse  ;  he  accompanied  me  to  my  inn, 
and  wished  to  refund  the  fare  to  London  which  I  had  paid.  I  used 
very  few  words,  but  very  kind  and  decisive  ones,  to  convince  him  that 
I  could  not  accept  his  intended  civility.  I  inquired  of  him  the  occu- 
pations of  his  actors.  The  president  of  the  club  is  a  solicitor,  which 
seems  the  aristocratic  order  of  the  club,  1  heard  of  no  grade  above  it ; 
an  artist,  an  apothecary,  stage-coachman,  innkeeper,  etc.,  make  up  the 
society,  for  which  I  took  a  journey,  gave  up  my  time  and  labor,  and 
very  much  inconvenienced  myself.  Spoke  to  Mr.  Denman  on  the  un- 
profitableness of  pursuing  such  a  course,  as  likely  to  draw  animadver- 
sions on  himself,  and  interfere  with  his  professed  purpose  of  taking  up 
a  profession. 

London,  August  3d.  —  Forster  told  me  that  Browning  had  fixed  on 
Strafford  for  the  subject  of  a  tragedy ;  he  could  not  have  hit  upon  one 
that  I  could  have  more  readily  concurred  in. 

Elstree,  August  5th. —  Finished  the  perusal  of  "Nina  Sforza,"  a 
play  of  very  great  merit  with  which  I  was  very  much  pleased,  though 
it  cannot  be  successful  in  representation.  Person  called  to  tune  the 
piano.  Read  Heraud's  other  play  of  the  "  Death  of  Nero  ; "  an  im- 
possible subject,  not  treated  in  a  manner  to  give  hope  of  its  success. 


1836.  MISS  TREE'S  "ION."  381 

London,  August  8th.  —  Sent  Heraud's  two  tragedies,  "Conspiracy" 
and  "  Fate  of  Nero,"  to  Mr.  Osbaldiston  with  a  note  wishing  to  see 
him.  Wrote  a  short  letter  to  Wightwick  of  Plymouth,  and  inclosed  a 
book  of  "  Ion,"  second  edition,  to  him,  reclaiming  that  which  I  left 
with  him.  Was  very  tired  and  overcome  by  faint  and  drowsy  feeling. 
Looked  over  stage  clothes  that  require  repairs.  Went  to  Garrick 
Club. 

Went  to  the  Haymarket  to  see  "  Ion  ;  "  it  was  tiresome  and  sleepy 
to  a  degree  ;  over  at  10  o'clock.  Miss  Tree's  performance  of  Ion  is  a 
very  pretty  effort,  and  a  very  creditable  woman's  effort,  but  it  is  no 
more  like  a  young  man  than  a  coat  and  waistcoat  are.  Vandenhoff 
was  frequently  very  false  and  very  tiresome ;  some  things  he  did  very 
well.  The  play  was  very  drowsy,  very  unreal. 

(Jth.  —  Sent  Harding  to  the  theatrical  shoemaker ;  made  up  three 
plays  in  a  parcel,  with  a  note  to  Mr.  Osbaldiston,  and  wrote  a  note  to 
Mr.  Dyer  about  the  retention  of  my  chambers  for  an  additional 
quarter.  Gave  orders  to  the  shoemaker,  and  thought  a  little  on  my 
affairs.  I  find  the  lesson  of  content  is  the  happiest  that  can  be  taught, 
but  is  its  existence  compatible  with  that  of  ambition  ?  I  fear  not. 
Saw  the  panorama  of  the  Lago  Maggiore,  which  called  back  the 
memory  of  sensations  and  feelings  that  made  me  melancholy  in  the 
conviction  that  they  can  never  return ;  they  were  the  delightful  sur- 
prises of  my  youth.  Saw  also  that  of  Lima,  where  I  can  almost  fancy 
I  have  been  ;  I  have  at  least  a  clear  idea  of  the  kind  of  place  it  is. 

E/stree,  August  llth.  —  Walked  round  the  garden  before  breakfast, 
my  mind  shaken  as  to  the  decision  I  had  made  to  quit  this  place.  If  I 
intended  or  wished  to  continue  on  the  stage  for  fifteen  or  twenty  years 
more,  there  could  not  be  a  moment's  doubt  on  the  propriety  and  policy 
of  my  course.  I  ought  to  go  to  London,  even  at  a  temporary  pecu- 
niary sacrifice,  but  as  I  hope  to  achieve  my  independence  before  that 
time,  and  give  my  energies  to  my  children,  I  am  perplexed  in  forming 
a  decision.  Wrote  notes,  after  much  deliberation  and  much  discussion 
with  my  wife  and  sister,  to  Lardner  and  Wallace,  to  Sheil,  Price, 
Bullers,  and  Warrens,  inviting  them  to  dine  on  Tuesday  or  Wednes- 
day next ;  to  Mr.  Troughton,  inquiring  if  he  was  the  author  to  "  Nina 
Sforza."  Lay  upon  the  grass  and  played  with  my  children  after  din- 
ner. A  gentleman  and  lady  called  to  see  the  house  to-day,  and  seemed 
to  think  it  might  suit  the  friend  for  whom  they  looked  over  it.  Wrote 
a  letter  of  thanks  to  Dow  for  his  two  Yorkshire  pigs.  Heard  the  dear 
children  their  prayers,  and  showed  them  the  "  Fridolin  "  of  Retzsch. 
Marked  for  a  country  prompt-book  "  The  Provost  of  Bruges." 

12th.  —  Thought  upon  my  prospects,  and  decided  on  letting  this 
house  only  on  the  rent  I  pay  for  it ;  if  unlet  when  starting  for  Amer- 
ica, to  let  it  at  a  loss.  Read  over  with  great  attention  Bulwer's  play 
of  "  Cromwell."  Received  letters  from  him  and  Osbaldiston,  who  de- 
clines engaging  Miss  Huddart;  he  is  a  man  of  no  forethought.  Played 
with  the  children  in  the  field.  Marked  nearly  one  half  of  a  book  of 
"  The  Provost  of  Bruges."  Bulwer  arrived  with  Forster  ;  after  din- 


382  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1836. 

ner  we  discussed  the  subject  of  "  Cromwell."  Bulwer  listened  to  the 
objections  with  great  equanimity,  and  finally  decided  on  delaying  the 
publication,  considering  our  respective  suggestions  as  to  the  alteration 
of  the  plot,  and  recasting  it.  Catherine  went  early  to  bed.  Bulwer 
decided  on  remaining  the  night. 

13th.  —  Note  from  Mr.  Trough  ton,  claiming  the  authorship  of  "  Nina 
Sforza."  Bulwer  and  Forster  left  us  after  breakfast. 

14M.  —  Received  notes  from  Mrs.  Buller,  on  the  plea  of  ill-health, 
excusing  C.  Buller,  and  leaving  Arthur's  answer  in  doubt,  upon  our 
invitation  for  Wednesday ;  from  Price,  deferring  his  acceptance  till 
a  later  period ;  and  from  the  Ellises,  accepting  the  Tuesday's  invita- 
tion. 

15lh.  —  Looked  through  Coleridge's  translation  of  "  "Wallenstein  " 
to  see  if  it  were  possible  to  turn  it  to  account  in  representation,  but, 
though  abounding  with  noble  passages  and  beautiful  scenes,  it  is  spread 
over  too  much  space  to  be  contracted  within  reasonable  dimensions. 

17t/i. — After  breakfast  we  arranged  our  Luton  expedition,  decid- 
ing, at  their  earnest  request,  on  leaving  Catherine  and  Letitia,  and 
taking  leave  of  the  Ellises,  we  filled  Mrs.  Howarth's  carriage  and  set 
out.  I  was  indisposed  to  talk,  but  was  amused  with  the  company,  the 
day,  and  the  country.  Visited  the  abbey  of  St.  Alban's,  and  again  ad- 
mired its  various  specimens  of  architecture.  Walked  down  to  St. 
Michael's  by  a  very  pretty  shaded  path  along  the  river's  brink  (which 
constantly  recalled  to  us  some  shady  scene  iu  Lombardy  or  the  south 
of  France)  and  met  .the  carriage  at  the  church.  I  went  in  quest  of 
the  key,  and,  returning,  looked  again  on  that  vera  effigies  of  Bacon, 
which  while  we  look  at,  we  become  possessed  with  a  sort  of  dreamy 
notion  that  the  man  is  not  altogether  strange  to  us.  We  passed  on  to 
Luton  through  the  long  village  of  Harpenden,  and,  noticing  the  beauty 
of  the  porteress  at  the  lodge,  we  proceeded  to  the  shelter  of  some  large 
trees  and  there  took  our  luncheon  very  merrily.  Arrived  at  the  house, 
we  entered  our  names  in  the  hall,  in  which  are  some  beautiful  cork 
models  of  the  ruins  at  Rome,  and  went  through  the  library  and  collec- 
tion of  pictures,  with  many  of  which  I  was  extremely  delighted. 

Swansea,  August  22d. — Othello. 

23d.  —  Read,  in  the  history  of  England,  Cromwell's  proceedings,  in 
order  to  write  to  Bulwer  about  his  play  Virginius. 

24/A.  —  Went  to  the  rehearsal  of  "  The  Provost  of  Bruges,"  where 
I  showed  some  ill-humor.  The  fact  is,  I  am  angry  with  people  for 
being  very  bad  actors.  It  is  very  unreasonable  in  me,  as  they  undoubt- 
edly would  be  better  if  they  only  knew  how  —  I  must  strive  to  get 
the  better  of  this  folly.  After  dinner  pursued  the  history  of  Cromwell. 
It  is  only  necessary  to  apply  Hume's  own  principles  and  reasonings 
in  one  place  to  his  sophisms  in  another  to  convict  him  of  treason  to 
truth  —  he  could  not  be  a  good  man,  who  strove  to  inculcate  such 
false  doctrines. 

Went  out  to  post  my  letters,  and  walked  home  in  the  "  fair  moon- 
light "  by  the  Quay ;  the  scene  was  very  sweet  and  mild.  Read  in 


1336.  ROBBERY  AT  THE   THEATER.  383 

Homer,  "  Thetis  with  Jupiter."  Continued  Hume's  History,  and 
looked  over  "  Hamlet ;  "  saw  great  scope  for  improvement. 

28^.  —  Endeavored  to  come  to  some  decision  with  regard  to  the 
plot  of  Bulwer's  play,  but  find  it  more  difficult  than  I  had  supposed  ; 
on  one  point  I  am  clear,  that  to  make  a  play  of  Cromwell,  he  must 
begin  de  novo  and  be  content  to  lose  all  he  has  already  done  ;  patch- 
work never  is  of  value. 

29M.  —  "  Ion."  Began  to  read,  with  the  hope  of  finding  it  adapt- 
able, "  Marino  Faliero." 

Tintern,  August  30th.  —  Went  to  Tin  tern.  Such  visits  do  the 
mind  positive  good.  Scenery  like  that  which  leads  to  this  rare  speci- 
men of  monastical  architecture  delights  and  entrances  me ;  the  in- 
ability to  express  our  delight,  the  ever-changing  effects  of  position  or 
of  light,  make  a  confused  and  overflowing  sort  of  pleasure  in  the  mind, 
that  is  exhilarating  —  I  was  going  to  say,  inebriating  :  it  is  very  lovely, 
so  sweet  and  rich,  approaching  to  grandeur,  but  not  reaching  the  sub- 
lime. The  entrance  to  the  abbey  produces  a  complete  change  of  emo- 
tion. I  felt  subdued,  saddened,  and  softened  by  the  surpassing  beauty 
of  the  building,  the  bewildering  and  dazzling  effect  of  the  sort  of 
tremulous  light  which  glances  in  and  up  through  the  bay  windows  of 
the  building  upon  the  columns  and  arches.  The  sight  of  this  edifice 
was  as  a  talisman  to  evoke  thoughts  ;  speculative  reflections  on  the 
tenants  and  founders  of  the  pile  ;  its  actual  connection  with  religion  ; 
fancies  of  the  future ;  the  use  and  end  of  life  —  what  is  it  all  worth  ? 

Cheltenham,  August  31st.  —  Came  in  coach  to  Cheltenham,  which 
I  reached  comfortably  and  cheaply  enough,  and  depositing  my  luggage 
at  the  Royal  Hotel,  went  to  the  theater.  Whilst  rehearsing  "  Vir- 
ginius,"  the  dresser  who  used  to  attend  me  at  Bristol,  accosted  me,  and 
asked  if  he  might  wait  upon  me  this  evening.  I,  of  course,  said  "  Yes," 
and  desired  him  to  be  at  the  theater  at  5  o'clock  ;  asked  him  if  he  had 
settled  here,  he  said  "  Yes ; "  that  he  did  writing  for  attorneys,  etc. 
Having  finished  the  rehearsal,  I  went  back  to  the  Royal  Hotel  and 
dined. 

Arranged  to  go  in  a  fly  to  Tewkesbury  after  the  play,  and  ordered 
my  luggage  to  be  taken  to  the  theater.  My  dresser  was  there,  and  he 
assisted  the  porter  to  bring  the  things  up ;  in  dressing  I  sent  him  out 
with  my  letters  to  post,  and  for  some  soap.  While  attending  to  me  he 
mentioned,  that  the  theater  was  a  sad  place,  that  Mr.  Goldsmid  had 
lost  a  handkerchief,  whilst  Mr.  Goldsmid  and  himself  were  out  of  the 
room  for  one  minute.  I  gave  him  my  purse  and  observed  that  my 
watch  would  be  safe.  He  said,  Oh,  he  would  not  go  out  of  the  room 
all  night.  The  play  went  on,  and  I  observed  he  was  absent.  To  my 
surprise  I  found  the  small  keys  out  of  my  purse  on  the  table.  I  felt 
uncomfortable.  He  had  got  my  watch,  purse,  ring,  etc.  I  sent  for 
him.  Search  was  made  everywhere.  He  was  not  to  be  found  or 
heard  of.  I  sent  for  Mr.  Anderson,  and  begged  him  to  send  a  police- 
man after  him ;  a  sort  of  bustle  was  made,  a  messenger  sent  to  his 
lodgings  —  all  in  vain.  It  now  came  out  that  he  was  a  very  bad 


384  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1836. 

character,  living  with  a  common  street-walker,  and  not  earning  his 
bread  as  he  stated.  He  was  gone.  Policemen  sent  after  him.  No 
tidings.  It  quite  sunk  my  spirits  to  lose  these  gifts  and  my  money, 
which  I  valued  least ;  still  I  rallied  against  it,  and  acted  Virginius 
well,  but  I  was  quite  moved,  when  I  came  to  miss  my  ring  in  dressing. 
Agreed  to  act  Hamlet  on  Friday. 

Bristol,  September  3d.  —  The  inspector  of  police  came  to  me  about 
the  things  I  had  lost,  and  it  seems  the  thief  is  in  Bristol. 

5tk.  —  Thought  upon  my  state  of  mind,  correcting  my  angry  pas- 
sions and  tempering  my  mind  to  a  cheerful  and  rational  state.  Looked 
over  "  Bertulphe,"  in  which  occupation  I  was  interrupted  by  the  visit 
of  a  police  officer,  No.  9,  who  came  to  make  inquiries  repecting  my 
stolen  property.  From  him  I  learned  that  the  thief  had  left  Bristol ; 
that  he  was  a  thief,  known  ;  that  the  property  was  in  the  city,  and  it 
was  manifest  that  the  police  officer  knew  more  about  it  than  he  chose 
to  admit.  He  said  that  had  Stevens  entered  in  the  police-book  the 
letter  he  had  received  from  Cheltenham,  the  thief  would  have  been 
taken  on  Saturday  morning.  Thus  is  justice  done  !  if  I  ever  recover 
my  property  I  must  buy  it  back. 

Gth.  —  Employed  my  mind  in  thinking  on  Othello  and  endeavoring 
to  fix  in  my  thoughts  the  manly  and  chivalrous  character  of  the  Moor. 
Read  part  of  it  as  I  sat  at  breakfast. 

The  policeman  called  again,  and  consumed  some  precious  moments 
in  dwelling  on  the  duties  of  his  office,  but  he  recompensed  my  patience 
by  telling  me,  if  I  made  an  appointment  with  the  jeweler  before  the 
magistrate,  I  should  have  my  ring  again.  I  appointed  a  quarter  before 
two  and  went  to  the  rehearsal  of  Othello,  which  I  went  through  in  a 
very  superior  style,  most  manly,  fervid,  and  measured.  Went  to  the 
police  office,  and,  after  waiting  some  time,  the  purchaser  of  the  ring 
arrived.  We  went,  police  with  us,  before  the  magistrates.  The  atten- 
tion shown  me  was  very  particular ;  I  was  asked  within  the  rails,  and 
accommodated  with  a  chair  by  the  magistrates.  The  purchaser  was 
called  forward  and  gave  his  account  (a  lame  one)  of  the  thief's  state- 
ment to  him,  and  of  his  purchase.  I  stated  the  impossibility  of  my 
being  at  the  sessions  to  prosecute  (19th  of  October),  and  agreed  to 
give  the  jeweler  the  price  he  gave  for  the  ring,  viz.,  4s.  I  went  out, 
saw  the  man,  paid  the  money,  and,  telling  the  police  that  I  would  give 
a  reward  for  the  watch  and  seals,  I  very  joyfully  returned  to  my  lodg- 
ings with  the  ring. 

15th.  —  Read  the  sweet  and  tender  parting  of  Hector  and  Androm- 
ache and  the  departure  of  Hector  and  Paris  to  the  field  in  Homer. 
I  remember,  in  Pope's  translation,  I  received  the  impression  that  Hec- 
tor chid  Andromache  for  her  sorrow,  but  in  Homer  it  is  to  me  all 
tenderness.  Felt  tired  and  lay  down  ;  slept  longer  than  I  wished. 
Read  over  Wolsey.  Went  to  theater  and  acted  Cardinal  Wolsey  tol- 
erably well,  in  parts  very  well.  Looked  at  a  little  of  the  entertain- 
ment, and  cannot  wonder  that  people  should  prefer  the  repose,  in- 
struction, or  amusement  to  be  found  around  their  own  hearths  to  the 
ill-performed  trash  they  too  often  listen  to  in  our  theaters. 


1836.  SHREWSBURY— WORCESTER.  385 

1  Qlk.  —  Received  a  letter  from  Bulwer  thanking  me  for  my  obser- 
vation on  Cromwell,  and  explaining  his  engagements  with  regard  to 
"  La  Valliere."  I  answered  him  at  once.  Dined  exceedingly  moder- 
ately, on  one  mutton-chop,  still  felt  very  drowsy  afterwards.  Rested 
and  read  over  "  Ion,"  which  I  acted  better  than  on  either  of  the  pre- 
vious nights.  Was  rather  disconcerted  and  very  slightly  dispirited  on 
finding  the  house  bad ;  but  I  resolved  to  use  the  occasion  for  study  of 
my  art  and  temper.  In  the  first  subject  of  my  discipline  I  was  not 
unsuccessful  .as  regards  "  Ion,"  but  my  temper  was  overturned,  de- 
stroyed, and  lost  by  the  apparent  conspiracy  of  every  one  engaged  in 
"  William  Tell,"  which  was  played  as  a  second  piece,  to  forget  their 
duty.  If  not  so  very  provoking  it  would  have  been  curious  to  see 
the  general  system  of  blunder  from  the  prompter  to  the  carpenters.  I 
quite  lost  all  command  of  myself,  and  suffered  torture  in  doing  so. 

Yith. —  Going  to  the  theater,  found  nothing  prepared  for  the  re- 
hearsal, and  would  not  proceed  with  it  until  some  means  were  used  to 
possess  the  performers  with  a  slight  knowledge  of  what  they  were  to 
do.  We  waited  an  hour  for  the  property  man  and  for  the  leader  of 
the  band  ;  then  one  of  the  actors  went  away,  who  was  also  sent  for.  At 
last  I  rehearsed  the  part  of  Melantius,  which  is  too  monotonous  in  its 
character  to  be  a  great  part.  Here  is  £150  lost,  paid  for  three  of  its 
scenes  to  Mr.  S.  Knowles,  besides  my  own  time. 

Shreivsbury,  September. 2Qth.  —  Ion. 

27th.  —  Virgiuius. 

28th.  —  William  Tell.  .Went  over  with  care  the  dagger  soliloquy 
of  Macbeth,  which  I  think  I  can  improve,  and  I  feel  I  must  (as  this  is 
the  only  profession  by  which  I  have  a  chance  of  earning  my  own  in- 
dependence and  my  children's  education)  give  my  mind  diligently 
to  it. 

Went  to  rehearsal.  How  exceedingly  distasteful  to  me  is  the  char- 
acter of  William  Tell,  I  cannot  throw  myself  into  it  now. 

Acted  William  Tell  to  an  indifferent  house  but  indifferently.  Hoyv 
much  I  wish  that  all  tyrants  were  like  the  Gesler  of  this  evening,  and 
then  mankind  would  rise  en  masse  and  smother  them.  I  never  saw 
his  fellow  —  Termagaunt  and  Herod  were  fools  and  innocents  to  him 
—  and  he  enjoyed  it.  I  envied  him  the  relish  he  had  for  his  own 
grimacings  and  intonations.  Happy  being  ! 

In  thinking  upon  the  very  little  I  do  in  life  beyond  attending  to  my 
profession,  and  to  that  I  cannot  give  much  attention  out  of  the  theater, 
I  was  surprised  to  find  that,  in  these  country  engagements  where  I 
have  usually  a  daily  rehearsal,  the  time  that  is  consumed  in  the  theater, 
rehearsing  and  acting,  is  very  rarely,  if  ever,  less  than  eight  hours ! 
This  does  not  leave  much  time  or  spirits  for  other  labors. 

29th.  —  Macbeth. 

Worcester,  October  1st. — Ion. 

Elstree,  October  2d.  —  Anticipated  the  call  of  the  servant,  and  was 
down  to  breakfast,  and  took  my  departure  by  the  six  o'clock  coach ; 
found  Mr.  Anfossi,  the  double-bass  player,  my  companion ;  we  talked 
25 


386  MACREADrS  DIARIES.  1836. 

over  music  meetings  ;  Malibran,  her  predecessors  in  opera;  Tramez- 
/ani.  who  went  mad  from  his  failure  in  Paris  —  something  for  very 
harsh  critics  to  pause  upon  ;  and  Ambrogetti,  who  has  become  a  Trap- 
pist !  I  slept  occasionally,  and  went  over  to  myself  the  character  of 
Werner,  endeavoring  to  guard  against  monotony  and  lameness,  and 
above  all  to  set  myself  above  impatience  and  ill-temper. 

London  (Covent  Garden),  October  3d.  —  Macbeth. 

5th.  —  Werner. 

Gth.  —  Tried  to  read  King  John,' but,  if  one  has  not  made  one's  self 
master  of  a  character  before  the  day  of  performance,  it  is  not  then  to 
be  done  ;  all  is  chance,  and  raw,  and  wild  —  not  artistic-like. 

Acted  King  John  in  a  style  very  much  beneath  myself — no  identity, 
no  absorbing  feeling  of  character;  the  house  was  great,  and  at  the 
close  (my  dying  scene  was  the  best)  there  were  calls  for  Kemble  and 
myself;  we  went  on  together.  I  do  not  fancy  these  duets. 

10th.  —  An  application  for  relief  from  Mr.  Y ,  an  indifferent 

actor  and  not  a  good  man.  He  strove  to  run  his  sword  into  my  father 
on  the  stage  at  Manchester,  and  when  my  father  asked  him  why  he 
was  so  violent,  he  said,  "  Because  you  struck  me,  sir !  "  which,  in  the 
character  of  Cassio,  my  father  had  to  do.  I  gave  him  what  I  ought 
not  to  have  given  him. 

Went  to  theater.  Acted  Macbeth  as  badly  as  I  acted  well  on  Mon- 
day last.  The  gallery  was  noisy,  but  that  is  no  excuse  for  me  ;  I  could 
not  feel  myself  in  the  part.  I  was  laboring  to  play  Macbeth  :  on 
Monday  last  I  was  Macbeth. 

Elstree,  October  loth.  —  Rose  late,  and  canvassed  with  my  counsel 
of  the  Home  Department  the  best  mode  of  arrangement  in  inviting 
Mr.  Forrest  to  our  home.  Wrote  a  note  of  invitation  to  him. 

London,  October  1 7th.  —  Note  from  Notter,  the  box -office  keeper, 
informing  me  of  what  I  saw  in  the  "  Times,"  viz.,  that  the  Doncaster, 
from  the  Mauritius,  had  been  lost  off  the  reef  of  Cape  Agulhas,  and 
every  soul  on  board  perished.  Among  the  various  articles  washed  on 
shore  with  the  dead  bodies  was  the  lid  of  a  box  directed  to  W.  Ma- 
cready,  Esq.,  Elstree,  Herts.  Something  from  John  Twiss.  What  a 
fate  for  those  lost,  and  for  those  who  have  lost  them  ! 

Heraud  called,  and  I  was  delayed  by  a  son  of  poor  Con  way,  who 
called  to  ask  me  to  make  some  inquiry  after  his  father's  property  (I 
fear  to  no  purpose),  and  also  if  I  could  assist  him  in  his  views  of  going 
on  the  stage,  for  which  he  was  about  to  relinquish  very  good  prospects 
—  so  infatuated  was  he.  I  read  him  a  very  long  lecture,  and  tried  to 
convince  him  of  his  folly.  He  left  me,  I  fear,  unpersuaded.  Price 
told  me  he  was  in  great  alarm  for  the  success  of  the  "  Gladiator,"  in 
which  Mr.  Forrest  is  to  appear  this  evening.  I  told  him  that  Bartley 
had  said  it  would  do. 

Dow  called,  and  brought  me  the  news  of  the  Drury  Lane  repre- 
sentation, viz.,  that  Mr.  Forrest  had  quite  succeeded,  and  that  the  play 
had  been  as  completely  damned.  His  opinion  was,  that  he  was  a  very 
good  actor,  but  he  did  not  think  him  a  great  one.  I  cannot  of  course 


1836.  FORREST  AT  ELSTREE.  387 

have,  as  yet,  any  opinion  ;  but  this  I  know,  that  when  I  saw  him  nine 
years  ago,  he  had  everything  within  himself  to  make  a  very  great 
actor. 

21  st.  —  Went  to  rehearsal,  where  I  was  depressed  by  finding  myself 
not  possessed  with  the  character  of  Othello,  and  annoyed  by  the  care- 
lessness of  the  people  about  the  arrangement  of  the  last  scene.  Oh, 
what  a  change  has  taken  place  in  this  theater  !  I  remember  it  offering 
accommodation  to  the  actor  in  every  particular,  and  now  it  is  a  dirty 
desert  except  before,  the  curtain,  which  perhaps  may  be  looked  on  as  a 
reproof  to  my  complaint. 

'25th.  —  At  the  theater  there  was  a  violent  disturbance  from  the 
overcrowded  state  of  the  pit ;  the  audience  demanded  that  the  money 
should  be  returned,  the  play  could  not  be  heard.  Charles  Kemble 
went  forward,  addressed  the  audience,  spoke  to  Mr.  Wallack  —  but  by 
merely  temporizing  he  effected  nothing.  The  first  scene  ended  in 
dumb  show.  Mr.  H.  Wallack  went  forward  in  the  next  scene,  but  his 
speech  was  shuffling,  evasive  —  anything  but  an  answer  to  the  down- 
right demand  of  "  Return  the  money  ! "  The  audience  would  not 
allow  the  play  to  proceed,  and,  at  last,  after  speaking  to  Mr.  Vanden- 
hoff,  I  went  forward.  I  said  "  Under  the  circumstances  of  peculiar 
inconvenience  from  which  so  many  seemed  to  be  suffering,  I  scarcely 
know  what  to  say,  and  that  if  I  should  say  anything  that  might  appear 
to  give  offense  either  to  them  or  the  management,  I  hoped  I  should 
stand  excused ;  but  as  the  only  means  of  remedying  the  present  incon- 
venience and  relieving  both  those  who  were  desirous  of  going  and 
those  who  wished  to  remain,  if  the  ladies  Or  gentlemen  who  could  not 
obtain  room  would  require  their  money  from  the  door-keeper,  and  tell 
him  to  charge  it  to  my  account,  I  should  be  most  happy  to  be  respon- 
sible for  it."  The  whole  house  cheered  very  enthusiastically,  and  like 
the  sea  under  the  word  of  Neptune,  the  waves  were  instantly  stilled. 

Elstree,  Sunday,  October  30th.  —  Whilst  I  was  dressing,  Messrs. 
Forrest,  J.  Price,  and  Jones  arrived.  We  talked  in  the  drawing- 
room  with  Browning  and  Dow,  till  the  arrival  of  Talfourd  and  Mr. 
T.  R.  Price  and  White.  Introduced  all  to  Forrest.  Asked  him  to 
take  Mrs.  Macready  down.  Spent  an  agreeable  and  cheerful  after- 
noon. 

London,  November  2rf.  —  Read  Bulwer's  play  of  the  "  Duchess  of 
•La  Valliere  "  in  Mr.  Osbaldiston's  room.  The  actors  and  actresses 
were,  or  seemed  to  be,  very  much  pleased  with  the  play,  but  I  cannot 
put  much  confidence  in  them. 

3d.  —  Called  on  Miss  Martineau,  who  told  me  of  many  friends  she 
had  seen  in  the  United  States,  and  of  her  intended  book  upon  the 
country.  She  liked  Clay  the  best  of  the  American  statesmen.  She 
is  a  very  zealous  abolitionist,  but,  I  think,  has  got  some  illusive 
notions  on  the  actual  state  of  opinion  on  that  perplexing  question. 
She  spoke  in  the  warmest  terms  of  Mrs.  Butler  ;  her  qualities  of  head 
and  heart. 

\lth.  —  Went  with  Forster  to  Colnaghi's,  and  spoke  to  him  about 


388  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1836. 

the  costumes  for  Bragelone,  which  he  promised  to  send  me.  Called 
at  Gass's  and  paid  £31  10s.  for  Miss  E.  Tree's  present,  ordered  seals, 
and  looked  for,  without  choosing,  some  ornament  to  give  to  Talfourd 
in  remembrance  of  his  advocacy  of  my  cause. 

18/7*.  —  Acted  Brutus  with  more  self-possession  than  on  the  first 
night,  and  learned  some  things  in  the  performance.  It  is  one  of  those 
characters  that  requires  peculiar  care,  which  only  repetition  can  give, 
but  it  never  can  be  a  part  that  can  inspire  a  person  with  an  eager 
desire  to  go  to  a  theater  to  see  represented.  I  am  pleased  to  hear 
that  every  paper  noticed  the  Senate  scene,  which  I  induced  Mr.  Os- 
baldiston  to  have. 

19th.  —  Browning  came  with  Dow  to  bring  me  his  tragedy  of 
Strafford;  the  fourth  act  was  incomplete.  I  requested  him  to 
write  in  the  plot  of  what  was  deficient.  Dow  drove  me  to  the  Gar- 
rick  Club,  while  Browning  wrote  out  the  story  of  the  omitted  parts. 
I  found  remaining  of  the  party  of  eighteen  who  sat  down  to  the  dinner 
given  by  Mr.  Forrest  —  himself,  Talfourd  (in  the  chair),  Mr.  Blood 
opposite,  S.  Price,  C.  Kemble,  W.  Jones,  Zachary  (?)  Dance,  Murphy, 
Raymond,  and  three  others,  unknown.  I  greeted  Forrest,  and  told 
him  I  was  anxious  to  be  among  his  hosts ;  Talfourd  mentioned  that 
my  health  had  been  drunk  very  cordially,  but  repeated  it  in  my  pres- 
ence. I  was  drunk  to,  and  briefly  stated  that  "  The  attention  was 
unexpected ;  that  I  came  to  pay,  not  to  receive,  a  compliment ;  and 
could  assure  my  highly  talented  friend,  if  so,  that  no  one  extended 
the  hands  of  welcome  to  him  more  fervently  or  sincerely  than  myself, 
in  doing  which  I  only  endeavored  to  repay  a  small  part  of  the  debt 
of  gratitude  which  had  been  heaped  on  me  by  the  kindness  of  his 
countrymen,"  etc.  C.  Kemble  wished  that  we  should  take  wine  to- 
gether, which  we  did.  Browning  and  Dow  soon  summoned  me,  and 
1  received  the  MS.,  started  in  a  cab  to  Kilburn,  where  I  found  a 
chaise  vice  fly,  waiting  for  me.  I  bought  a  couple  of  cigars  and  smoked 
to  Edgware.  Got  comfortably  to  Elstree  and  found,  thank  God,  all 
in  tolerable  health. 

2G<7*.  —  Went  to  Talfourd's.  Met  Kenyon,  whom  I  much  like, 
White,  Lane,  and  some  agreeable  men.  Found  on  my  return  to 
chambers  a  note  from  a  Mr.  Milford,  asking  my  autograph.  Talfourd 
had  mentioned  his  intention  of  making  a  book  of  the  autographs  of 
the  distinguished  persons  from  whom  he  had  received  letters  on  his 
"  Ion  "  —  a  most  interesting  collection,  and  what  a  treasure  to  the 
child  who  inherits  it. 

Jflstree,  November  27th.  —  Dr.  Elliotson  arrived.  Saw  and  pre- 
scribed for  Letitia ;  he  took  tea  with  us.  I  liked  him  very  much. 
He  talked  of  Dr.  Gregory,  the  homoeopathic  system,  of  which  he  ex- 
pressed the  absurdity,  and  other  subjects  very  agreeably.  I  gave  him 
a  check  for  twelve  guineas,  which  I  hope  was  right,  thanked  him, 
and  he  left  us  greatly  relieved  by  his  visit. 

IsOndon,  December  1st.  —  Acted  Virgini us  as  well  as  my  temper 
and  the  state  of  the  play  would  let  me.  Mr.  Osbaldiston  would  not 


1836.  REHEARSAL   OF  "  LA  VALLIERE."  389 

suffer  the  supernumeraries  to  be  rehearsed  on  account  of  the  expense, 
15s.!  Called  for  and  went  on  with  no  pleasure.  Dow  came  into 
my  room  and  told  me  my  orders  were  stopped.  I  had  overwritten 
myself. 

2d.  —  Lay  very  late  —  uneasy,  unhappy ;  my  spirits  in  the  low- 
est depth ;  no  cheering  prospect  before  me ;  sickness  at  my  home 
neglect  and  labor  here.  Life  is  indeed  "  as  tedious  as  a  twice-told 
tale."  What  are  we  sent  for  here  without  the  power  of  acting  up  to 
good  intentions,  of  improving  our  minds,  or  of  elevating  our  condi- 
tions ?  Such  surely  is  my  case.  My  days  flow  by  and  are  bearing  me 
to  my  grave  the  same  worthless,  sinful,  wretched  being  that  I  have 
ever  been  —  perhaps  even  worse  than  I  have  ever  been. 

1th.  —  Went  to  rehearsal  of  "  La  Valliere."  Mrs.  Glover  observed 
to  me,  hoping  that  I  should  not  be  offended  at  the  observation,  that 
she  had  never  seen  such  an  improvement  in  any  person  as  in  myself 
lately.  I  told  her  I  was  extremely  grateful  to  hear  her  say  so,  since 
every  art  needed  study  and  was  progressive  in  its  course  towards  per- 
fection. Rehearsed  Bragelone. 

13th.  —  M of  Drury  Lane  called,  wishing  to  ask  my  advice 

upon  his  present  state,  which  is  that  of  an  insolvent  in  danger  of  ar- 
rest, and  with  a  reduced  salary  unable  to  support  his  family.  I  told 
him  that  his  scheme  of  a  benefit  was  quite  visionary  and  impracticable  : 
but  that  if  he  wished  me  to  speak  to  Mr.  Osbaldistori  for  him  I  would 
do  so,  and  should  he  engage  him  I  would  lend  him  £40  (the  amount 
for  which  he  is  embarrassed),  to  be  repaid  me  at  £1  per  week.  He 
expressed  himself  very  grateful  to  me  for  this  suggestion  and  left. 

Read  some  odes  of  Catullus,  some  notes  of  Lord  Byron's,  some 
pages  of  "  The  Giaour."  Wrote  to  Edward  and  made  up  a  copy 
of  "  La  Valliere  "  with  the  letter  to  him.  Wrote  to  Catherine  and  to 
H.  Smith.  Read  over  the  part  of  Bragelone  and  the  early  part  of 
"  Othello." 

Elstree,  December  23d.  —  Mr.  Pope  called  and  pronounced  Letitia 
much  better.  Went  over  to  Bragelone,  after  telling  two  stories  to 
my  children  and  hearing  their  prayers.  Began  to  read  a  new  book 
of  instruction  in  arithmetic,  by  which  I  learnt  the  meaning  of  what,  as 
a  boy,  I  had  repeatedly  galloped  through  by  dint  of  quickness,  but 
without  ever  understanding  what  I  was  doing  ;  and  this  is  often  the 
case  with  what  is  termed  education.  I  was  very  much  pleased  with 
the  book. 

London,  December  27th.  —  I  lingered  away  my  morning  with  Letitia 
and  the  children,  and  at  the  fixed  hour  set  out  with  Catherine,  Willie, 
and  the  footman  in  the  old  carriage.  It  is  the  last  time  we  shall  ever 
ride  in  it,  and  I  feel  all  the  regret  of  parting  with  an  old  friend  and 
companion  ;  how  many  happy  hours  have  I  passed  in  it  —  at  one  time, 
when  I  had  no  home,  it  felt  like  a  home  to  me.  It  has  served  me  now 
thirteen  years  —  to-morrow  I  part  with  it.  It  has  so  often  been  the 
witness  of  my  sorrows  and  my  joys,  that  I  almost  feel  a  superstitious 
grief  at  parting  with  it.  I  know  how  childish  this  is.  But 


300  UACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1837. 

2Sth.  —  Culled  at  Johnson  and  Allen's  where  I  saw  our  new  carriage 
and  gave  orders  for  horses  to  it,  desiring  Mr.  Johnson  to  call  and  be 
paid.  Paid  Mr.  Johnson  £100  for  the  carriage.  Placed  dearest  Cath- 
erine and  Willie  in  it,  with  my  secret  wishes  that  they  might  long  en- 
joy it. 

1837. 

[Sentences  at  beginning  of  Diary  :] 

"  The  discretion  of  a  man  deferrcth  his  anger,  and  it  is  his  glory  to  pass  over  a 
transgression." 

"  Let  nothing  be  done  through  strife  or  vain-glory." 

"A  furious  man  cannot  be  justified,  for  the  sway  of  his  fury  shall  be  his 
destruction." 

"  A  patient  man  will  bear  for  a  time,  and  afterwards  joy  will  spring  up  to 
him." 

January  2d.  —  Acted  Lord  Hastings  very,  very  ill  indeed,  in  the 
worst  possible  taste  and  style.  I  really  am  ashamed  to  think  of  it ; 
the  audience  applauded,  but  I  deserve  some  reprobation.  I  have  no 
right  to  trifle  with  any,  the  least  important,  character ;  whatever  is 
good  enough  to  play  is  good  enough  to  play  well,  and  I  could  have 
acted  this  character  very  well  if  I  had  prepared  myself  as  I  should 
have  done.  Without  study  I  can  do  nothing.  I  am  worse  than  a 
common  nightly  drudge. 

3d.  —  Before  I  rose,  thought  over  some  scenes  of  Bragelone ;  saw 
Mr.  Brewster  and  arranged  my  coiffure  with  him.  Griffiths  called  also 
about  my  dress.  Went  to  theater,  found  they  had  begun  before  the 
appointed  time.  Rehearsed  Bragelone  ;  suggested  some  improvements 
in  the  arrangements  of  the  last  scene.  Tried  on  and  settled  my  dress. 
Bulwer  and  Forster  were  there  ;  Bulwer  liked  what  I  did,  but  authors 
are  no  judges  of  the  performance  of  their  own  plays.  The  rehearsal 
was  not  over  till  past  4  o'clock. 

4th.  —  Received,  in  a  note  from  Forster,  an  invitation  to  supper  from 
Lady  Blessington.  Acted  Bragelone  well,  with  earnestness  and  fresh- 
ness ;  some  passages  were  deficient  in  polish.  Being  called  for,  I  did 
not  choose  to  go  on  without  Miss  Faucit,  whom  I  led  forward.  The 
applause  was  fervent,  but  there  had  been  considerable  impatience  man- 
ifested through  the  play,  which  did  not  end  until  11  o'clock!  Dow, 
Fitzgerald,  Browning,  Talfourd  and  his  son  Frank,  C.  Buller,  came 
into  my  room ;  they  all  seemed  to  think  much  of  my  performance. 
Bulwer  came  in  when  they  had  gone,  and  in  the  most  energetic  and 
ardent  manner  thanked  me  for  my  performance,  and  for  making  him 
cut  out  the  first  scene  of  the  fifth  act,  which  I  had  done.  Mr.  Stand- 
ish  took  Forster  and  myself  to  Lady  Blessington's ;  Count  D'Orsay 
and  herself  received  me  most  warmly.  Bulwer  drove  me  home,  ail 
his  talk  was  '•  La  Valliere." 


1837.  ILLNESS.  391 

1th.  —  Browning  called,  and  we  talked  about  "  La  Valliere,"  etc. ; 
he  gave  me  an  interesting  lithographic  print  of  Richard  from  some  old 
tapestry.  Took  an  omnibus  to  the  city,  called  on  Mr.  Harris,  went 
with  his  son  to  the  bank,  where  I  sold  out  £900  Three  per  Cent.  Con- 
sols, and  returned ;  went  to  H.  Smith,  with  whom  I  had  some  conver- 
sation, and  who  entered  me  in  the  venture  on  a  cargo  of  cinnamon  to 
the  amount  of  £500. 

10^.  —  Bulvver  took  Forster  and  myself  in  his  cab,  to  the  Albion, 
Aldersgate  Street,  where  the  Garrick  Club  gave  their  complimentary 
dinner  to  C.  Kemble.  I  was  beckoned  soon  to  the  cross-table  and 
taken  there  by  Captain  Williams  and  placed  between  Sir  G.  Wai-render 
and  Standish.  Sir  G.  Warrender  introduced  me  to  the  Chairman,  Lord 
Francis  Egerton.  Captain  W.  had  come  to  me  twice  or  three  times, 
to  ask  me  to  return  thanks  when  "  The  stage  and  its  professors  "  was 
drunk.  I  declined,  but  saw  at  last  that  I  had  no  power  of  retreat. 
The  toast  was  given  by  Mr.  S.  Price.  I  replied,  first,  to  him  —  in  ref- 
erence to  his  allusion  to  the  American  stage  —  expressing  the  cordial 
feeling  that  all  actors  felt  towards  that  country  who  had  visited  it,  and 
of  my  own  particular  attachment  to  it ;  that  the  toast  which  had  been 
given,  in  referring  to  what  we  possessed,  made  us  more  strongly  feel 
what  we  had  to  deplore ;  that  the  sentiment  of  regret  was  universal 
among  the  members  of  the  profession  at  the  loss  of  our  guest,  and  that 
none  was  more  sorry  to  lose  his  companionship  than  myself,  when  I  re- 
flected how,  in  "  many  a  well-fought  field,  we  had  kept  together  in  our 
chivalry  ;  "  that  I  was  only  expressing  the  general  feeling  of  the  pro- 
fessors of  the  art  in  congratulating  him  upon  and  lamenting  his  retire- 
ment, and  that  I  only  uttered  their  wishes  in  my  desire  for  every  joy, 
every  good,  that  the  remainder  of  his  life  could  give  him. 

18th. —  Forster  inquired  of  me,  if  I  were  willing  to  undertake  an 
edition  of  Shakespeare.  I  said  that  I  should  like  the  task,  and  had 
thought  of  it,  but  that  I  could  not  venture  on  the  attempt  whilst 
occupied  with  my  profession.  He  said  Moxon  was  the  person  who 
wished  it,  and  that  he  would  speak  of  it  as  a  thing  for  my  hours  of 
retirement. 

Met  Miss  Stephens.  We  talked  very  cordially,  she  asking  me  why 
I  did  not  sometimes  call  as  I  passed,  and  observing  that  she  had  never 
been  so  happy  as  when  she  was  on  the  stage.  Ah,  me  !  how  much  I 
wish  I  had  her  means  of  being  free  from  it. 

22d.  —  A  little  before  5  o'clock  I  was  awoke  with  a  very  torturing 
pain  at  my  heart,  which  only  just  allowed  me  to  draw  my  breath  ;  I 
raised  myself  in  bed,  and  strove  to  bear  it,  but  after  an  ineffectual  effort 
was  forced  to  get  up.  I  walked  about,  but  the  agony  of  the  pain  was 
intense.  I  went  into  the  sitting-room,  and  after  waiting  a  short  time, 
finding  the  anguish  of  the  part  increase,  and  my  strength  diminishing 
in  consequence,  I  rang  the  bell ;  old  Freeman  came  up,  and  I  requested 
him  to  call  up  the  servant,  light  my  fire,  and  send  instantly  for  Healy. 
I  returned  to  my  bed  and,  from  the  continued  suffering,  thought  that 
death  was  not  far  distant ;  indeed,  that  I  might  possibly  die  before  Earle 


392  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1837. 

could  reach  me.  I  accused  my  negligent  procrastination  in  not  having 
sent  for  him  yesterday,  but  submitted  myself  to  the  will  of  God,  think- 
ing over  how  very  much  I  had  to  be  thankful  for  in  my  wife  and  chil- 
dren, calculating  what  I  had  to  leave  them,  and  in  whom  to  repose  the 
trust  of  taking  care  of  their  property.  The  pain  wearied  down  to  a 
milder  form  when  drawing  a  very  low  breath,  and  so  continued  till  H. 
Earle  came  ;  he  examined  the  whole  region  of  the  heart ;  applied  the 
stethoscope  and  decided  that  the  heart  was  tranquil,  the  membrane  near 
it  being  affected  by  rheumatism.  He  prescribed,  and  said  he  did  not 
think  it  likely  that  I  could  play  to-morrow.  I  requested  Catherine  to 
write  this  to  Mr.  Osbaldiston,  which  sbe  did.  A  mustard  poultice  gave 
me  considerable  relief;  H.  Earle  called  again  about  2  o'clock  and  spoke 
decisively  upon  the  danger  of  any  attempt  to  play  to-morrow.  Cath- 
erine wrote  again  on  this  point  to  Osbaldiston,  mentioning  my  hope  that 
I  should  be  able  to  act  Richard  on  Thursday.  I  humbly  and  devoutly 
thank  God  for  all  His  mercies,  and  particularly  for  the  amended  state 
of  feeling  in  which  I  retire  to  my  bed,  when  this  morning  I  did  not 
know  how  soon  I  might  quit  life  and  all  that  makes  it  dear.  I  hum- 
bly and  fervently  pray  for  His  blessing  on  my  beloved  wife  and  chil- 
dren. 

23d.  —  It  is  an  extraordinary  coincidence  that  some  ill-fortune 
always  seems  to  attend  my  announcement  in  "  King  Richard  III." 
About  three  years  since  I  was  attacked  with  pleurisy  at  Nottingham, 
when  coming  up  to  perform  it.  Last  year  I  broke  out  in  folly  on  the 
same  occasion  ;  and  now  I  lose  a  week's  salary,  the  cost  of  my  dress 
and  expenses,  much  trouble,  and  not  a  little  suffering.  But  God's  will 
be  done. 

Elstree,  January  %7th.  —  A  letter  from  Mr.  B ,  of  Drury  Lane 

Theater,  requesting  my  interest  with  Talfourd  in  an  application  to  the 
Recorder  and  to  the  Secretary  of  State  on  the  approaching  trial  of  his 
wife  for  felony  !  She  is  to  be  tried  next  Monday  ;  from  long  indulgence 
in  habits  of  drunkenness  she  has  been  led  to  the  perpetration  of  various 
felonious  acts,  and  at  last  her  husband  allows  her  to  go  to  trial  in  hope 
that  confinement  in  the  Penitentiary  may  declaim  and  restore  her  to 
her  family  and  friends. 

Merciful  Heaven !  —  to  what  does  our  weakness  and  guilt  subject 
us  !  I  recollect  this  creature' —  young  and  lovely  and  intelligent —  and 
now  !  I  was  deeply  afflicted  by  the  application  to  me,  thinking  on  the 
infirmities  and  liabilities  of  human  nature.  It  is  not  mine  as  a  disci- 
ple of  Christ  to  condemn.  I  can  only  follow  the  dictates  of  com- 
passion. 

Dublin,  February  14th.  —  Calcraft  called  to  tell  me  that  Mr.  C , 

the  representative  of  Macduff  last  night,  had  been  hissed  so  very  much 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  continue  him  in  those  characters  for 
which  he  had  cast  him  in  my  plays,  and  he  wished  to  consult  me  on 
his  course,  premising  that  he  had  sent  the  prompter  to  apprise  him  of 
the  impossibility  of  permitting  him  to  retain  the  character.  He  talked 
much  as  he  always  does,  and  alluded  to  his  "  friendship  "  for  me,  which 


1837.  DUBLIN.  393 

of  course  passed  unnoticed  by  me.  I  told  him  that  nothing  could  be 

suggested  until  he  ascertained  the  tone  which  Mr.  C would  take 

in  the  matter.  He  showed  me  a  newspaper  which,  speaking  of  some 

part  of  my  Macbeth,  pronounced  Mr.  C an  excellent  Macduff, 

bringing  to  the  character  all  the,  etc.,  etc.  Is  not  this  enough  to  sicken 
an  artist  who  labors  to  discover  and  present  truth. 

18th.  — Went  in  a  coach  to  the  theater  ;  felt  very  weak  indeed  ;  the 
house  was  very  bad.  Lord  Mulgrave  came  in  about  the  second  act. 
I  played  Werner  with  great  care,  with  much  force  and  taste.  I  did 
not  quite  realize  my  intentions  in  the  second  act,  but  when  I  am  well 
and  master  of  myself  I  will  greatly  increase  its  effect.  Mr.  Ole  Bull, 
who  had  been  ravi,  wished  to  be  introduced  to  me.  Felt  stronger 
after  the  play,  how  very  strange, 

l$th.  —  Read  some  chapters  in  "Candide"  the  reason  and  wit  in 
them  makes  me  deplore  the  coarseness  and  bestiality  that  deforms  the 
work.  Read  aloud  the  "  L' Allegro  "  and  "  II  Penseroso  "  —  charming, 
delicious  melodies  ;  some  passages  in  the  last  book  of"  Paradise  Lost" 
and  some  in  the  last  part  of  "  Paradise  Regained ; "  also  the  conclusion 
of  Thomson's  "  Winter."  Took  some  exercise  and  practiced  part  of 
Brutus,  second  act.  Read  Milton's  version  of  eight  psalms,  and  his 
grand  ode  on  the  Nativity  of  our  Saviour. 

2Sth. — Went  to  the  theater.  Was  resolved  to  make  some  effort  to 
act  William  Tell  (which  I  detest)  in  a  manly,  natural,  and  impressive 
manner,  carefully  avoiding  the  tendency  to  falsetto  tones,  to  weakness 
of  character,  or  melodramatic  action  and  deportment.  I  began  remark- 
ably well,  the  address  to  the  mountains  and  the  whole  scene  at  Grutli 
was  unexceptionable.  The  second  act  was  good,  but,  as  the  play  ad- 
vanced, some  abominable  half-drunken  ruffians  were  shouting  "  Hear  " 
and  "  Bravo  "  at  every  striking  effect  and  almost  quelled  me,  and 
certainly  cast  a  gloom  on  the  house,  which  was  disconcerted  and  dis- 
turbed by  their  interruptions.  I  lost  my  patience,  by  which  I  got 
nothing.  Lord  and  Lady  Mulgrave  were  at  the  theater  again  to-night. 

22d.  —  We  acted  "  Bertulphe  "  to  a  miserable  house,  not  in  a  style 
satisfactory  to  me.  I  was  utterly  without  support.  It  is  impossible 
to  "  do  battle "  here,  the  sinews  of  war  are  like  scorched  flax.  I  was 
affected  by  the  inefficiency  round  me,  but  I  made  the  best  rally  I 
could ;  still,  much  cannot  be  said  for  it,  it  was  scarcely  a  saving  game. 

24th.  —  Went  to  the  rehearsal  of  "  Julius  Caesar,"  which  will  be  a 
very  tedious  affair  indeed. 

Returning  to  lodgings,  I  resumed  the  "  Hecyra,"  and  became  so 
much  interested  in  it,  that  I  read  until  the  twilight  made  me  lay  the 
small  print  aside.  In  the  morning  I  had  read  some  pages  of  Greek 
Grammar.  Note  of  invitation  from  Colonel  D'Aguilar  for  Friday 
next,  which  I  answered  in  acceptance. 

25th.  — Walked  a  little  way  up  the  road,  and,  returning  to  my  lodg- 
ings, read  the  passage  in  Homer  of  Neptune's  and  Juno's  conversation 
on  rescuing  ,ZEneas  from  Achilles.  There  is  surely  something  very 
remarkable  in  the  prophetic  words  of  Neptune.  What  was  the  real 


394  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1837. 

history  of  JEneas?  Finished  the  "Hecyra"  of  Terence,  with  many 
parts  of  which,  breathing  the  most  exquisite  tenderness  and  display- 
ing the  most  refined  feeling,  as  well  as  those  sparkling  with  passion, 
humor,  and  character,  I  have  been  greatly  delighted.  Read  the 
charming  tale  of  "A  celui  qui  Console"  and  the  chapter  of  "Poco- 
curante "  in  Voltaire,  and  laid  down  to  rest ;  slept  till  time  to  go  to 
the  theater.  Acted  Bertulphe  with  effort  and  devoid  of  ease,  miser- 
ably surrounded,  not  supported  (still  I  must  not  seek  excuses  for  my- 
self), wanted  aplomb,  collectedness,  natural  flow  of  passion.  At  my 
lodgings  read  with  great  interest  the  conclusion  of  the  debate  on  the 
Irish  Municipal  Bill,  with  Shell's  splendid  speech.  Let  those  who 
think  little  of  the  advantages  of  labor  look  at  the  result  of  that  man's 
application.  Like  Demosthenes,  he  was  hissed  at  the  Catholic  Asso- 
ciation when  in  its  infant  state,  and  is  now  the  most  eloquent  man  in 
the  Imperial  Parliament.  On  one  occasion  that  he  was  hissed,  he  ex- 
torted the  applause  of  his  assailants  by  observing  to  them :  "  You 
may  hiss,  but  you  cannot  sting !  " 

26th.  —  Read  some  pages  in  Greek  Grammar,  and  some  in  Homer, 
the  struggle  round  the  body  of  Patroclus.  The  criticism  is  very  de- 
scriptive that  says  Homer  makes  his  men  gods  and  his  gods  men,  but 
it  should  be  added,  a  very  indifferent  set  of  men.  How  judiciously  has 
he  made  Menelaus  "  MaA0a*os  ai^/xr/TT/s,"  for  had  he  been  otherwise, 
the  force  of  his  wrongs  must  have  pressed  him  into  the  foremost  place. 

Read  the  two  odes  of  Horace  to  Neobule  and  to  Fons  Bandusiae, 
which  is  graphic  ;  one  sees  the  warm  and  transparent  tints  of  Claude 
in  it  and  hears  the  silver  sound  of  the  leaping  rill  —  it  is  charming. 
Read  two  fables  of  La  Fontaine.  After  dinner  indulged  myself  with 
several  chapters  of  "  Tom  Jones."  I  can  only  believe,  when  I  read 
Fielding,  that  persons  speak  in  utter  ignorance  of  his  wit,  humor,  pro- 
found thought,  satire,  and  truth  of  character  when  they  set  Scott  above 
him,  or  even  compare  the  two  writers.  Read  over  the  part  of  Ion 
and  afterwards  that  of  Brutus. 

March  2d.  —  Acted  Hamlet  in  a  very,  very  superior  manner  to  such 
a  house  as  I  have  rarely,  if  ever,  seen  in  Dublin  before.  There  did 
not  appear  to  be  more  than  ten  pounds  in  it  I  was  not  well,  but  I 
was  resolved  to  show  in  the  first  place,  that  the  performance  did  not 
merit  such  utter  neglect ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  I  thought  it  best 
so  far  to  profit  by  the  occasion  as  to  use  the  night  for  study.  Much 
of  the  play  I  acted  in  my  very  best  manner  —  the  soliloquy  of  the 
second  act,  and  the  whole  of  the  fifth  I  never  acted  so  well.  It  is 
very  hard  that  this  character,  which  is  decidedly  the  most  finished  of 
any  I  represent,  should  be  so  neglected  through  the  ignorance  of  those 
who  have  decried  me  in  it. 

3d.  —  To-day  I  am  forty -four  years  of  age.  Before  I  left  my  bed, 
I  gave  my  mind  to  long  and  earnest  reflection  on  the  occurrences  of 
my  past  life  —  on  the  unhappiness  which,  in  my  portion  of  good  and 
ill,  had  fallen  to  my  lot,  and  of  its  cause.  Most  of  it  is  to  be  traced 
to  myself,  to  my  own  violent  passions,  to  the  want  of  self-directiou 


1837.  SIDNEY  SMITH.  395 

and  command  under  events  which  seemed  at  war  with  my  interests  or 
feelings.  The  necessity  of  renewing  and  increasing  my  efforts  to  sub- 
due my  will ;  to  bring  my  irritable  will  under  the  strong  curb  of 
reason;  to  think  less  of  myself  in  relation  to  others;  to  extirpate 
the  envious  and  vindictive  feelings  which  still  lurk  within  my  dis- 
position :  the  indispensable  necessity  of  thus  regenerating  my  mind  — 
if  I  am  to  hope  for  the  mercy  of  Almighty  God,  if  I  am  to  afford  an 
example  which  may  teach  and  form  my  children,  if  I  am  to  know  the 
blessing  of  a  tranquil  state  of  being  —  appeared  clearly  and  palpably 
to  me. 

Prayed  to  God  to  confirm  me  in  my  new  resolves,  and  rose  with  a 
lighter  heart  than  I  have  felt  these  many  days. 

Went  to  dine  at  Colonel  D'Aguilar's,  met  Major  Hankey,  the  prin- 
cipal amateur  performer  here,  Sir  Charles  and  Lady  Morgan  and  her 
niece,  Miss  Clarke,  Miss  Hopkins,  and  Frank  Sheridan. 

The  conversation  was  lively  and  diversified.  Colonel  D'Aguilar 
mentioned  an  anecdote  of  Sir  Sidney  Smith,  in  instance  of  his  great 
but  harmless  egotism.  Having  minutely  narrated  the  circumstances 
of  his  escape  from  the  Temple,  and  upon  Colonel  D'Aguilar's  expres- 
sion of  his  gratification  at  the  great  interest  of  the  relation,  he  signifi- 
cantly put  the  question  :  "  Did  you  ever  hear  me  tell  it  in  French  ?  " 
"  No,"  replied  D'Aguilar.  "  Then  I  '11  tell  it  you,"  which  he  did,  fact 
for  fact,  only  varying  the  language. 

llth. —  Agreed  with  Calcraft  on  the  mode  of  settling  the  amount 
due  :  having  remitted  £82  and  lost  by  illness  £58,  and  having  received 
£20,  there  is  due  £420.  He  engages  to  give  me  £120  cash,  and  bills 
within  two  months  for  the  remaining  £300,  "  Which,"  he  says,  "  shall 
be  paid." 

Acted  the  tragedy  scene  of  Puff  in  the  "  Critic  "  very  well  for  the 
last  time  that  I  ever  will  appear  in  that  part  —  it  is  infra  dig.  Dur- 
ing this  engagement  I  have  never  once  been  before  the  curtain  at  the 
end  of  the  play ;  this  is  curious,  taken  in  connection  with  its  general 
ill-success. 

Elstree,  March  18th.  —  Received  a  note  from  Forster,  appointing 
Monday  for  the  visit  of  himself  and  Browning  about  "  Stratford."  I 
answered  him,  assenting  to  his  proposal.  Walked  out  with  the  chil- 
dren through  Aldenham  Park  and  the  wood.  Read  before  dinner  a 
few  pages  of  "  Paracelsus,"  which  raises  my  wonder  the  more  I  read 
it.  Sat  with  the  children,  narrating  stories  to  them.  Looked  over 
two  plays  which  it  was  not  possible  to  read,  hardly  as  I  tried.  They 
are  utter  trash,  and  it  is  really  trying  to  one's  patience  to  lose  so  much 
time  over  such  worthless  hopeless  stuff;  I  cannot  longer  afford  the 
time.  Read  some  scenes  in  "  Strafford,"  which  restore  one  to  the 
world  of  sense  and  feeling  once  again. 

13th. — In  talking  after  breakfast,  fell  into  the  discussion  of  the 
propriety  of  removing  or  remaining  in  this  house.  The  necessity  of 
settling  this  important  question  induced  me  to  investigate,  in  my  best 
ability,  the  probable  expenses  of  each  course :  whether  to  let  this 


396  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1837. 

house  at  a  low  rent,  so  as  to  insure  its  occupation,  and  live  in  London, 
or  to  take  a  furnished  house  for  the  winter  months  and  retain  this  as 
a  summer  residence  ? 

I  dare  not  risk  my  children's  health  by  limiting  their  exercise  to  a 
close  house  in  London  after  being  habituated  to  the  freedom  and  pure 
air  of  the  garden  and  fields.  If  we  went  to  town,  I  must  have  a 
house  with  some  ground  about  it,  and  being  obliged  to  see  some  com- 
pany, it  could  not  be  a  very  cheap  one.  I  should  be  uncomfortable, 
uneasy,  if  I  were  obliged  to  shut  up  my  children  in  town.  Besides 
these  scruples,  the  uncertainty  of  my  destiny,  viz.,  whether  I  may,  or 
may  not  be  engaged  in  London  the  next  or  the  following  winter, 
whether  in  another  year  or  two  I  may  not  (as  is  very  probable)  be 
forced  to  go  to  America,  makes  me  hesitate  in  venturing  on  the  ex- 
pense of  another  lease. 

I  compute  my  present  expenses  attendant  upon  my  mode  of  resi- 
dence thus : 

£ 

Rent HI 

Chambers 122 

Journeys,  self         ........     42 

If  I  should  take  a  furnished  house  in  town,  let  my  land  here,  dis- 
pose of  my  animals,  dispense  with  an  outdoor  servant,  my  expenses 
would  stand  thus  : 

£ 

Rent 93 

Extra  expense 30 

Carriage,  goods 10 

Carriage,  of  self 5 

House  in  town 105 

If  I  should  let  this  place  at  a  low  rent,  and  take  a  house  on  lease, 
independent  of  my  responsibilities,  I  calculate  my  expenses  at : 

.  £  s. 

Rent,  house  in  town 130  0 

Residue  of  Elstree  rent 4215 

Extras 30  0 

Expense  of  removal  and  new  furniture,  divided  into 

seven  years          .......        45  0 

Change  of  air  for  children 50  0 

If  we  sailed  for  America  in  three  years,  the  expense  of  removal, 
etc.,  would,  divided  among  our  year  of  residence,  exceed  £100  per 
annum.  I  have  therefore  decided  on  what  appears  to  me  the  sat.  -t 
and,  under  the  circumstances,  the  cheapest  plan,  viz.,  to  take  a  mod- 
erate house  in  town  for  the  winter  months.  Let  our  land,  etc.,  here, 
and  endeavor  to  circumscribe  our  outgoings.  If  we  can  reduce  our 
expenditure  in  this  place,  as  I  hope,  we  shall  do  well,  and  even  if  it 
does  not  exceed  our  present  disbursement,  I  shall  economize  my  time 
greatly,  and  be  much  more  with  my  family. 

The  day  flew  by  in  talking  over,  calculating,  and  musing  on  this 
important  and  harassing  subject.  Read  "  Strafford  "  in  the  evening, 


1837.  BROWNING'S  "  STRAFFORD."  397 

which  I  fear  is  too  historical ;  it  is  the  policy  of  the  man,  and  its  con- 
sequence upon  him  —  not  the  heart,  temper,  feelings,  that  work  on 
this  policy,  which  Browning  has  portrayed  —  and  how  admirably. 
Read  prayers  to  the  family.  Again  took  up  calculations,  and  went 
through  every  item  of  last  year's  expenditure,  classing  the  particulars, 
in  order  to  see  where  the  great  waste  might  be  —  which  employment 
kept  me  up  till  1  o'clock. 

London,  March  28th.  —  "  Othello."  Sent  private  box,  with  a  hasty 
note,  to  Miss  Martineau. 

A  youth  called  to  know  if  I  taught  elocution,  and  on  my  information 
he  went  off  very  abruptly.  Dow  called  and  did  not  remain  very  long. 
Used  the  little  time  left  me  by  these  ill-timed  visitors  in  reading  part 
of  Othello  —  for  which  I  was  totally  unprepared.  Went  to  the  theater 
and  resolved  to  do  my  best :  my  reception  encouraged  me,  and  I  made 
the  best  I  could  of  my  raw  and  uncertain  notion.  I  spoke  the  address 
to  the  Senate  particularly  well ;  thought  of  an  improvement  in  its  con- 
clusion, and  also  another  in  cashiering  Cassio.  I  made  the  best  effort 
in  my  power  under  the  circumstances,  but  it  was  a  crude,  unpolished 
performance  ;  the  audience  persisted  in  calling  for  me,  and  I  went  on 
at  last. 

30th.  —  Brewster  called  so  late  to  cut  my  hair  and  try  King  Rich- 
ard's coiffure,  that  I  was  obliged  to  send  an  excuse  for  my  want  of 
punctuality  to  Mr.  Osbaldiston. 

I  went  to  the  theater  soon  afterwards  and  read  to  Mr.  Osbaldiston 
the  play  of  "  Strafford  ; "  he  caught  at  it  with  avidity,  agreed  to  pro- 
duce it  without  delay  on  his  part,  and  to  give  the  author  £12  per  night 
for  twenty-five  nights,  and  £10  per  night  for  ten  nights  beyond.  He 
also  promised  to  offer  Mr.  Elton  an  engagement  to  strengthen  the 
play. 

April  4:th.  —  Browning  called  in  with  alterations,  etc. ;  sat  and 
talked  whilst  I  dined.  A  young  gentleman  came  in,  who  spoke  with  a 
foreign  accent,  and,  on  speaking  to  him  in  French,  he  replied  in  the 
same  language,  telling  me  he  was  a  Greek — that  he  was  an  enthu- 
siastic lover  of  the  drama,  and  such  an  admirer  of  mine  that  he  called 
to  request  my  autograph  in  his  album.  I  introduced  Browning  to 
him  as  a  great  tragic  poet,  and  he  added  his  name.  The  youth  told 
us  that  he  was  setting  off  for  Athens  directly.  He  was  an  interesting, 
lively  person. 

18th.  —  In  thinking  this  morning  upon  my  own  advancement  in 
public  opinion,  and  its  many  disadvantages  and  impediments,  the  truth 
passed  convincingly  on  my  mind,  that  no  labor  is  thrown  away ; 
PATIENCE  —  that  great  virtue,  that  true  philosophy,  that  alleviation  of 
all  toil  and  care  —  and  industry  are  sure  of  their  reward  :  it  is  the  im- 
patience of  obscurity,  the  immature  anxiety  for  reward  and  distinction, 
that  makes  empirics. 

20th.  —  Thinking  long  on  the  necessity  of  continual  study  and  prac- 
tice to  give  finish  to  my  representations.  Shakespeare's  characters  are 
living,  historical  portraits  of  minds,  the  actions  are  merely  results  of 


398  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1837. 

the  individual  dispositions  ;  in  other  authors  it  is  by  actions  that  some 
phase  of  mind  is  attempted  to  be  made  conspicuous. 

2lst. —  Came  to  town  by  Bryant,  reading  Catullus,  and  an  elegy  of 
Tibullus.  Jt  is  vexatious  to  be  obliged  to  turn  away  from  so  many 
of  the  poems  of  the  former  writer,  who  expresses  with  blended  heart- 
iness and  elegance  thoughts  and  feelings  with  which  all  time  will  sym- 
pathise. 

2Gth. —  Sold  our  Alderney  cow  for  £12. 

Acted  Macbeth  in  many  parts  extremely  well  to  an  audience  who 
appeared  collected  purposely  to  see  me  in  the  part.  Much  of  it  I 
really  did  well ;  deportment,  countenance,  energy,  and  reality  were  all 
called  for,  and  most  enthusiastically  received. 

27th.  —  Gave  the  evening  to  the  perusal  and  stud}'  of  "  Strafford." 

28th.  —  Thought  over  some  scenes  of  "  Strafford  "  before  I  rose,  and 
went  out  very  soon  to  the  rehearsal  of  it.  There  is  no  chance  in  my 
opinion  for  the  play  but  in  the  acting,  which  by  possibility  might  carry 
it  to  the  end  without  disapprobation  ;  but  that  the  curtain  can  fall 
without  considerable  opposition,  I  cannot  venture  to  anticipate  under 
the  most  advantageous  circumstances. 

Jn  all  the  historical  plays  of  Shakespeare,  the  great  poet  has  only 
introduced  such  events  as  act  on  the  individuals  concerned,  and  of 
which  they  are  themselves  a  part ;  the  persons  are  all  in  direct  rela- 
tion to  each  other,  and  the  facts  are  present  to  the  audience.  But  in 
Browning's  play,  we  have  a  long  scene  of  passion  —  upon  what?  A 
plan  destroyed,  by  whom  or  for  what  we  know  not,  and  a  parliament 
dissolved,  which  merely  seems  to  inconvenience  Strafford  in  his  ar- 
rangements. 

29th.  —  Brewster  called  with  my  wig  for  Strafford. 

A  year  ago  I  was  hurried  into  the  intemperate  and  frenzied  act  of 
striking  Mr.  Bunn.  My  sufferings  from  compunction  have  been  very 
great,  not  perhaps  more  than  my  •  folly  has  deserved  ;  but  I  pray  to 
God,  that  I  may  never  again  so  far  forget  what  is  due  to  His  laws,  to 
myself,  and  to  society. 

May  1st.  —  Called  at  the  box-office  about  the  boxes  and  places  for 
which  I  had  been  applied  to.  Rehearsed  Strafford.  Was  gratified 
with  the  extreme  delight  Browning  testified  at  the  rehearsal  of  my 
part,  which  he  said  was  to  him  a  full  recompense  for  having  written 
the  play,  inasmuch  as  he  had  seen  his  utmost  hopes  of  character  per- 
fectly embodied. 

Read  Strafford  in  bed,  and  acted  it  as  well  as  I  could  under  the 
nervous  sensations  that  I  experienced.  Edward  and  Henry  Bulwer, 
Fitzgerald,  Talfourd,  Forster,  Dow,  Browning  (who  brought  his 
father  to  shake  hands  with  me)  and  Jerdan  came  into  my  room. 

Elstree,  May  6th. —  Was  happy  to  walk  in  the  garden  once  again, 
to  feel  the  soft  freshness  of  the  air,  and  listen  to  the  music  of  the 
birds  around  me.  Looking  at  my  accounts,  and  entered  some  arrears 
of  record.  "Walked  out  with  the  dear  children,  Nina  and  Willie, 
round  by  Stanmore  Common ;  was  rather  tired,  which  shows  I  am 


1837.          ENGAGEMENT  AT  IIAYMARKET  THEATER.  399 

not  very  strong.  The  country  and  every  object  in  it  was  pleasant 
to  my  sight  and  heart.  Heard  my  dear  babes  their  prayers  and 
hymns.  Wrote  answers  to  the  letters  of  Messrs.  Bradshaw  and 
Knight,  the  first  wishing  me  to  read  a  play  of  his  called  "  Cromwell " 
("  Use  lenity,  sweet  chuck  "),  the  other  wanting  me  to  revise  "  The 
Tempest." 

7th.  —  A  letter  from  Ransom  acknowledging  £118  7s.  3d.,  the  pro- 
ceeds of  my  benefit. 

London.  May  \%th. —  Acted  Posthumus  in  a  most  discreditable 
manner,  undigested,  unstudied.  Oh,  it  was  most  culpable  to  hazard 
so  my  reputation  !  I  was  ashamed  of  myself;  I  trust  I  shall  never 
so  commit  myself  again.  The  audience  applauded,  but  they  knew 
not  what  they  did ;  they  called  for  me  with  Miss  Faucit.  I  refused 
to  go  on,  until  I  found  it  necessary  to  go  in  order  to  hand  on  the  lady. 
They  then  called  for  Mr.  Elton,  and  he  went  on. 

2()t/i.  —  Webster  told  me  he  had  taken  the  Haymarket,  and  pro- 
posed an  engagement  to  me,  settling  to  call  on  me  in  the  morning. 

2lst. —  Mr.  Webster  and  I  talked  over  the  engagement  he  had 
spoken  of  last  night.  I  dissuaded  him  from  it  in  the  strongest  man- 
ner, fearing  its  success,  and  more  than  half  wishing  not  to  go.  I 
asked  high  terms,  which  he  tried  in  vain  to  make  me  moderate. 

Went  to  dine  with  Bulwer  with  whom  I  met  Fonblanque,  Auldjo, 
Count  D'Orsay,  Fred  Reynolds,  Mill  and  Trelawney,  and  some  other 
persons.  It  was  a  very  pleasant  clay.  His  house  is  fitted  up  in  the 
best  taste,  and  he  is  well  learned  in  the  savoir  vivre.  From  thence  I 
went  to  Mrs.  Leicester  Stanhope's,  where  I  saw  a  crowd,  and  remained 
but  a  short  time. 

23d.  —  Webster  came  into  my  room,  and  after  a  long  conversation 
upon  the  bargain,  it  was  concluded.  For  two  months  at  the  Hay- 
market  Theater,  £20  per  night,  at  three  nights  per  week,  the  first 
fortnight;  to  return  £10  per  night  the  third  week  if  "The  Bridal" 
be  produced,  for  which  I  am  to  receive  £12  per  night  additional  ; 
during  its  run  to  throw  in  an  additional  night  per  week,  or  if  it  fails, 
to  be  liable  to  be  called  on  for  a  fourth  night,  extra  work  at  £10  per 
night.  Acted  Posthumus. 

"28th.  —  Left  dear  home  in  the  carriage  a  little  after  six,  and  reached 
Lady  Blessington's  about  a  quarter  before  eight.  Found  there  Fon- 
blanque, Bulwer,  Trelawney,  Procter,  Auldjo,  Forster,  Lord  Canter- 
bury, Fred  Reynolds,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fairlie,  Kenuey,  a  young 
Manners  Sutton,  Count  D'Orsay,  and  some  unknown.  I  passed  an 
agreeable  day,  had  a  long  and  interesting  conversation  in  the  drawing- 
room  (what  an  elegant  and  splendid  room  it  is !)  with  D'Orsay  on 
pictures. 

Elslree  June  1st.  —  Took  out  Catherine  and  the  children  in  the 
carriage.  Drove  to  Pinner  Wood,  and  went  through  the  ground, 
looking  again  at  scenes  where  I  spent  some  very  happy  hours,  and 
where  the  quiet  of  its  beauty  enabled  me  to  hear  the  voice  within  that 
warned  me  to  subdue  my  restless  passions,  and  strive  to  improve  my 


400  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1837. 

mind  and  heart.  I  have  striven,  but,  God  knows,  not  as  I  should  have 
done.  Still  His  mercy  has  been  over  me,  and  humbly  do  I  pray  for 
its  continuance,  and  that  of  His  divine  bounty. 

3d.  —  A  person,  calling  himself  Mr.  Monteagle,  of  good  property, 
wished  to  know  what  I  should  require  for  instructing  him  so  com- 
pletely, as  to  bring  him  not  exactly  up  to  my  own  degree  of  talent, 
but  very  near  it  I  told  him  I  would  pay  very  willingly  to  be  taughf, 
if  any  one  could  teach.  I  civilly  dismissed  him,  after  enduring  the 
bore  for  some  time. 

Acted  Othello  pretty  well,  —  unequally,  but  some  parts,  in  the 
third  act  particularly,  forcibly.  Was  called  for  at  the  end  of  the  play 
and  well  received.  Thus  ended  my  Covent  Garden  engagement, 
which,  thank  God,  has  been  profitable  and  agreeable  to  me.  God  be 
praised. 

JKlstree,  June  5th.  —  Called  on  Miss  Martineau  —  on  the  arrival  of 
the  carriage  drove  her  home,  talking  the  whole  way.  After  dinner 
heard  the  dear  children's  prayers,  and,  with  the  exception  of  one  walk 
round  the  garden,  talked  away  the  whole  evening.  The  only  subject 
on  which  I  did  not  cordially  agree  with  this  fine-minded  woman,  and 
on  which  I  do  not  clearly  understand  her,  is  her  advocacy  of  the 
restoration  of  the  rights  of  women.  I  do  not  see  what  she  would  have 
in  point  of  political  power,  nor  for  what. 

London,  June  llth.  —  Received  a  list  of  Charles  Kemble's  ward- 
robe, to  be  sold  on  Thursday.  Cast  the  tragedy  of  "  The  Bridal." 
Acted  Ion  at  the  Haymarket. 

15th. —  Called  on  Mrs.  Reynolds,  and  went  with  her  to  look  at  a 
house,  North  Crescent,  Alfred  Place,  which  was  very  cheap  but  also 
very  nasty.  Chatted  with  Frederick.  Called  on  Bourne  and  went 
with  him  to  look  at  houses  in  Tavistock  Square  and  Gordon  Square. 
Returned,  lunched  with  him.  Looked  again  at  Gordon  Square. 
Called  on  Jonathan  Birch,  and  then  went  to  the  agents  and  took  the 
house. 

1  Gth.  —  Acted  Othello  in  some  respects  very  well,  but  want  much 
attention  to  it  still.  J  was  called  for,  and  after  long  delay  went  for- 
ward. Forster  came  into  my  room  with  a  gentleman,  whom  he  intro- 
duced as  Dickens,  alias  Boz  —  I  was  glad  to  see  him. 

1 1th.  —  Called  on  Mr.  Robertson  and  spoke  with  him  on  the  sub- 
ject of  his  note  to  me  on  the  subject  entering  into  the  management  of 
Covent  Garden  Theater  ;  premising  that  I  would  not  venture  any  part 
of  my  little  property,  nor  make  any  venture  beyond  that  of  my  own 
talent.  He  was  to  lay  Mr.  Osbaldiston's  refusal  to  continue  in  the 
management  before  the  proprietors,  to  sound  them  upon  the  re-opening 
of  the  theater,  and  give  me  notice  of  their  views. 

Called  on  Pearsall  and  Jordan  about  the  house  in  Gordon  Square ; 
found  they  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  A ,  and  after  showing  me  an- 
other house  they  read  it  to  me.  It  was  very  impertinent,  talking  of 
"  a  "  Mr.  Macready,  etc.  I  told  them  I  would  not  take  a  house  from 
him  if  he  would  give  it  me  cost  free.  Went  to  the  Garrick  Club, 


1837.  REMOVAL   TO  LONDON.  401 

where  I  lunched,  and  then  went  into  committee,  where  I  was  obliged 
to  sit  in  the  Chair.  Drove  up  to  No.  8  Kent  Terrace,  where  I  saw 
the  house  and  lady  of  the  house,  and  agreed  with  her  to  take  it,  and 
take  possession  on  Wednesday.  Called  on  Bates,  Welbeck  Street,  and 
concluded  the  bargain. 

19th.  —  Went  to  rehearsal,  having  previously  looked  at  the  news- 
paper for  the  King's  health. 

Went  to  theater  ;  when  half  dressed,  a  person  passed  my  door  say- 
ing the  King  "  was  off."  Upon  inquiry  I  heard  that  notices  of  the 
event,  his  death,  had  been  fixed  up  at  the  offices  of  the  "  Courier  "  and 
"  Observer,"  and  it  was  said  that  it  had  been  up  at  the  Mansion  House 
more  than  two  hours  since.  The  state  of  suspense  in  which  I  was 
kept  to  the  very  moment  of  the  beginning  of  the  play  so  agitated  me 
that  when  I  went  on  the  stage  I  was  weaker  than  I  often  am  when  I 
finish  a  character.  I  labored  through  Richard,  but  it  was  labor,  and 
most  ineffectual.  I  was  very  bad,  very  bad. 

21st.  —  Went  in  a  cab  to  8  Kent  Terrace,  where  I  met  my  dear 
Catherine. 

22d.  —  Called  on  Robertson,  and  learned  from  him  that  the  pro- 
prietors, with  whom  he  had  spoken,  were  very  favorable  to  the  plan, 
as  far  as  they  could  see  into  it,  of  my  conducting  the  theater.  Stated 
to  him  my  views  that  the  necessary  expenses  of  the  proprietors  should 
be  the  very  first  appropriated  portion  of  the  receipts ;  that  an  addi- 
tional sum  should  be  on  the  contingent  footing  of  the  performer's  sal- 
aries, and  that  the  remainder  should  be  taken  from  the  surplus,  if 
any ;  urged  the  indispensable  necessity  of  the  renovation  of  the  thea- 
ter wardrobe  and  scenery.  Deputed  Bartley  to  get  a  statement  of 
the  highest  average  weekly  expenses  of  the  theater  last  season,  its 
salary  list,  etc.  Learned  that,  at  the  last  year's  rent,  the  nightly  ex- 
pense was  £154,  under  which  the  theater  could  not  be  valued.  This 
startled  me,  and  made  me  pause. 

23d.  —  Went  in  a  cab  to  chambers,  where  I  busied  myself  in  the 
melancholy  labor  of  still  farther  dismantling  them.  My  long  acquaint- 
ance with  them  —  four  or  five  years  —  has  given  me  a  sort  of  attach- 
ment to  them;  many  sorrows  and  many  joys  have  consecrated  them 
to  a  kindly  remembrance,  and  I  part  from  them  with  regret,  as  I  al- 
ways do  with  what  has  become  familarized  to  me.  Packed  and  ar- 
ranged various  matters.  Disposed  of  the  rickety  furniture  which  I 
had  bought  from  Mr.  Brougham,  my  predecessor,  to  a  broker  for  £2 
1  Os.  I  should  have  taken  anything  he  offered  in  order  to  rid  myself 
of  the  incumbrance  of  those  things. 

26th  —  Acted  Melantius  in  "  The  Bridal,"  which  I  had  altered  with 
some  scenes  by  Knowles,  from  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  "  Maid's 
Tragedy."  The  play  went  with  considerable  applause.  I  did  not 
please  myself  in  the  acting  of  Melantius,  which  was  a  crude  unfinished 
performance.  Being  called  for,  I  led  on  Miss  Huddart.  Wallace 
and  Brydon,  Browning,  Forster,  and  Dickens  came  into  my  room. 

21th.  —  Wrote  a  note  of  excuse  to  Procter,  and,  having  entered 
26 


402  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1837. 

yesterday's  record,  went  out.  On  my  way  to  Covent  Garden  met 
Kenney,  with  whom  I  had  a  few  moments'  chat  before  entering  an  om- 
nibus, into  which  Mr.  Balfe  got  and  claimed  and  established  an  ac- 
quaintance with  me.  Called  at  Everingham's  and  thence  to  the  Gar- 
rick  Club,  where  I  looked  at  the  newspapers,  and  found  them  all  in 
the  highest  tone  of  praise  upon  our  play  of  last  night,  ascribing  all 
the  merit  of  the  alteration  to  Mr.  Knowles. 

I  called  at  Robertson's,  with  whom  I  found  Bartley.  "We  entered 
into  conversation  on  very  many  particular  points.  Mr.  Bartley  sug- 
gested a  fund  wherewith  to  pay  authors,  to  which  I  objected,  deciding 
upon  paying  them  on  my  own  nightly  plan,  which  he  acknowledged 
better.  Explained  to  Robertson  my  complete  views  as  to  the  propri- 
etors, viz.,  to  take  my  chance  of  payment  for  my  acting  talent,  with 
the  chance  of  £7,000  rent  to  them  ;  out  of  a  surplus  of  £1,800  to  take 
£300,  and  any  surplus  that  might  be  over  that  sum. 

28M.  —  Went  to  the  Haymarket  Theater,  where  I  saw  Webster, 
who  appeared  in  the  highest  hope  about  "  The  Bridal."  I  trust  it 
may  be  fully  realized.  Heaven  grant  it.  Amen.  He  proposed  to 
publish  the  play  in  his  edition. 

29<A.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden.  In  my  interview  with  Robertson 
and  Bartley,  it  was  mentioned  by  R.  that  the  proprietors  seemed  to 
object  to  the  total  outlay,  and  thought  that  I  ought  to  incur  part  of 
the  risk.  To  this  I  instantly  observed,  that  I  did  not  covet  the  office ; 
that,  in  risking  my  name,  time,  peace  of  mind,  salary  as  a  performer, 
balance  of  loss  and  increased  expenses,  I  did  more  than  enough ;  and 
that  I  adhered  to  what  I  started  with,  viz.,  that  I  would  not  lay  out 
one  single  shilling  nor  risk  one  farthing  beyond  a  night's  expenses.  I 
gave  my  reasons  for  this,  which  were  considered  not  only  fair  but  liberal 
both  by  R.  and  B.  They  were  both  very  sanguine  as  to  the  experi- 
ment, and  I  remained  doubtful,  but  holding  to  what  seemed  to  me 
duty,  but  only  on  the  condition  that  I  could  make  up  a  satisfactory 
company.  Bartley  demanded,  on  my  question,  £200  for  his  labor  as 
acting  manager,  to  which  I  assented,  adding  £3  per  week  to  that  sum 
for  additional  labor,  and  reducing  his  actor's  salary  to  £12.  I  left 
Robertson  very  anxious  to  place  ine  in  the  theater,  but  very  indiffer- 
ent about  the  result  myself. 

30M.  —  Thought  to  give  an  hour  or  less  to  the  dear  children's  les- 
sons, but  found  them  so  backward,  and  the  system  upon  which  they 
have  been  proceeding  so  loose  and  inefficacious,  that  I  gave'  up  my 
morning  to  them,  and  find  that  I  must  devote  more  of  my  personal 
attention  to  their  improvement. 

July  4/A.  —  Declaration  of  the  Independence  of  the  United  States 
of  America  :  an  anniversary  in  which  my  heart  rejoices,  as  sympathiz- 
ing with  the  adjutors  of  the  rights  of  man,  wherever  they  are  to  be 
found. 

Went  to  the  theater.  I  scarcely  know  how  I  acted  Melantius, 
which  is  an  evidence  that  I  did  not  do  it  very  well ;  I  did  not  please 
myself  in  it. 


1837.  NEGOTIATIONS  FOR  CO  VENT  GARDEN.  403 

Knowles  came  into  my  room.  Expressed  himself  greatly  pleased 
with  the  play ;  said  that  he  had  had  the  intention  of  writing  to  the 
newspapers  to  disclaim  the  credit  they  had  given  as  to  the  adaptation 
of  the  play  ;  that  he  had  tried  it  and  could  not  manage  it  at  all.  He 
was  however  deterred  from  this  step  by  the  apprehension  that  it  might 
seem  putting  himself  unnecessarily  forward.  I  told  him,  if  I  pub- 
lished it,  that  I  should  then  state  the  exact  amount  of  credit  due  to 
him  for  the  scenes  he  had  written. 

Dow  came  into  my  room,  Webster  also.  I  went  into  his  room,  and 
discussed  the  purchase  of  the  copyright  of  "  The  Bridal ; "  he  offered 
£30,  and  I  told  him  he  might  have  it  for  £20. 

6tk.  —  My  whole  day  was  occupied  with  what  I  supposed  would 
have  been  an  hour's  employment,  the  revision  and  preparation  for  the 
press  of  my  MS.  of"  The  Bridal."1  I  had  only  completed  three  acts, 
when  obliged  to  go  to  the  theater, 

My  health,  thank  God,  has  been  much  better  to-day.  At  the  thea- 
ter I  received  a  note  from  Robertson,  appointing  a  meeting  to-morrow 
at  ten,  to  mention  to  me  a  proposed  deviation  from  my  offer  by  the 
proprietors  of  Covent  Garden  Theater,  also  a  note  from  the  Literary 
Fund.  Acted  Melantius  pretty  well ;  was  called  for  and  went  on,  not 
taking  Miss  Huddart  with  me.  I  did  not  see  the  necessity  of  making 
it  a  necessary  consequence.  Was  very  warmly  received. 

7th.  —  Wrote  a  note  in  answer  to  Mrs.  Buller,  accepting  invitation, 
and  revised  the  last  act  of  "  The  Bridal "  before  I  went  out.  Pro- 
ceeded to  Robertson.  He  laid  before  me  the  modification  of  what  was 
termed  my  proposal,  which  amounted  to  the  addition  of  £720,  the 
cost,  as  they  calculated,  of  their  outlay  in  repairs,  etc.,  to  the  ground- 
rent,  etc.,  to  be  paid  in  nightly  instalments  out  of  the  first  receipts,  and 
a  retention  of  two  private  boxes.  I  gave  no  direct  answer,  but  not 
seeing  any  strong  cause  of  objection,  talked  over  with  Robertson  and 
Bartley  sundry  measures  to  be  pursued  in  the  event  of  my  undertak- 
ing the  conduct  of  the  theater.  Called  on  H.  Smith,  and  consulted 
with  him  on  the  proposed  plan  ;  he  thought  it  advisable  to  make  the 
effort,  observing  that,  as  in  everything,  there  was  risk.  There  was  not 
more  here  than  in  ordinary  circumstances.  Began  to  think  about  the 
preface  to  «  The  Bridal."  ' 

8th.  Went  down  to  Covent  Garden,  and  at  Robertson's  met  Bart- 

1  The  acting  copy  of  The  Bridal,  a  tragedy  in  five  acts,  adapted  for  representa- 
tion (with  three  original  scenes,  written  by  Sheridan  Knowles,  Esq.)  from  the 
Maid's  Tragedy  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  as  performed  at  the  Theater  Royal 
Haymarket,  was  published  in  Webster's  Acting  National  Drama  by  Chapman  and 
Hall  in  1837.  It  has  a  preface  by  Macready,  in  which  he  states  that  the  adapta- 
tion was  prepared  six  years  previously,  and  that  the  suggestion  of  adapting  the 
old  play  was  due  to  the  fine  taste  of  Mr.  Sheil.  The  play  was  presented  to 
Prury  Lane  Theater  in  1831,  accepted,  but  withdrawn  from  performance  by 
Macready. 

It  was  first  performed  during  Macready's  engagement  at  Dublin  in  1834.  Again 
agreed  to  be  performed  at  Drury  Lane  in  1835,  but  the  agreement  was  not  fulfilled 
by  the  then  lessee  (Mr.  Bunn).  Produced  at  Haymarket  by  Mr.  Webster,  26th 
June,  1837. —ED. 


404  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1837. 

ley ;  told  him  of  my  objections  to  the  proprietors'  plan,  and  of  my 
emendations,  which  he  thought  very  fair  and  not  likely  to  meet  with 
opposition.  Sent  him  to  Willmott,  the  Drury  Lane  prompter,  to 
sound  him,  and,  if  he  found  him  well  disposed,  to  open  to  him  confi- 
dentially my  wish  to  engage  him.  Whilst  he  was  gone,  I  made  out 
the  draft  of  a  letter  to  Robertson,  and  upon  the  calculations  I  made, 
gave  in  rny  amended  proposal,  which  I  think  most  fair.  Hartley  re- 
turning, related  to  me  his  conversation  with  Willmott,  who  expressed 
himself  delighted  on  hearing  that  I  had  undertaken  the  conduct  of  the 
theater,  and  then,  having  imparted  to  him  as  much  as  was  necessary, 
he  desired  to  call  on  me.  In  a  little  time  he  came,  and  at  first  seemed 
in  high  spirits  at  the  prospect  before  him,  which  subsided  as  he  gained 
time  to  reflect.  I  offered  him  £5  under  the  idea  that  he  had  £0  ;  but 
he  admitted  that  he  had  only  £5,  on  which  I  counseled  him  to  offer 
himself  for  £4  —  a  very  unpalatable  proposition.  He  then  made  out 
that  he-  had  more  than  £5  by  the  length  of  time  it  was  paid,  and  I 
made  it  £4  10s.  for  thirty-six  weeks ;  still  he  demurred  and  wished 
till  Monday  to  consider  of  it.  This  I  resisted,  and  he  then  stood  out 
for  an  hour's  deliberation.  I  yielded,  and  whilst  he  was  absent  Bart- 
ley  went  in  search  of  Miss  Taylor,  who  was  out  of  town.  I  wrote  my 
letter  to  Robertson.  Bartley  returned  and  afterwards  Willmott. 
agreeing  to  terms  which  he  had  written  down,  asking  for  orders 
which  1  refused,  and  an  under  prompter  which  I  conceded.  Bartley 
left  me.  I  wrote  to  Vandenhoff,  and  to  Miss  Faucit.  Read  the  pa- 
pers ;  a  delightful  critique  on  "  Bridal "  in  "  John  Bull." 

(Jth.  —  Began  the  preface  to  the  publication  of  "  The  Bridal,"  with 
which  I  was  occupied  the  whole  day,  excepting  when  taken  from  my 
work  by  the  visits  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lane  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Procter. 
I  find  it  impossible  to  satisfy  myself  with  the  work  I  have  engaged 
myself  upon.  Disuse  has  quite  unfitted  me  for  composition,  who  at 
the  best  was  never  entitled  to  any  praise  for  it.  My  situation  suggests 
to  me  the  prayer  of  the  Cavalier  soldier  before  one  of  the  battles  in 
the  great  struggle,  and  I  feel  with  it :  "  O  Lord,  thou  knowest  I  have 
much  to  do  this  day  ;  if  in  my  labor  I  forget  thee,  do  not  thou  forget 
me,  O  God  !  " 

1 1th.  —  Set  to  work  early  at  the  preface,  and  continued  it  till  Bart- 
ley called ;  he  had  little  additional  communication  to  make.  I  men- 
tioned to  him  the  thought  of  writing  to  the  Drury  Lane  Committee  in 
order  to  discover  whether  the  theater  would  be  let  or  no,  which  he  ap- 
proved. Received  a  very  kind  letter  from  Bourne,  with  a  check  of 
£  1 2  for  our  cow. 

Finished  the  preface,  and  called  on  Wallace  with  it,  who  approved 
of  parts.  I  left  it  with  him  for  revision.  He  dissented  from  the  plan 
of  writing  to  the  Drury  Lane  Committee,  and  I,  in  consequence, 
abandoned  the  thought.  Wrote  to  Miss  Faucit,  offering  her  £15  per 
week. 

Went  to  dine  with  Mrs.  Buller,  where  I  met  C.  Buller.  Thackeray 
came  in  the  evening,  Dickens,  John  Mill,  Martineau,  Hawes,  Stanley, 


1837.  THEATRICAL  ARRANGEMENTS.  405 

Miss  Martineau,  Miss  Austin.    Walked  with  Dickens  to  Garrick  Club, 
where  we  met  Forster.     Took  a  cab  home. 

12th.  —  Letter  from  Mr.  Vandenhoff,  demanding  £21  per  week. 
Went  to  Covent  Garden,  where,  after  being  introduced  to  Lowndes,  I 
talked  over  the  matter  with  Robertson  and  Bartley.  Robertson  told 
me,  that  the  proprietors  assented  to  my  emendations  of  the  agreement. 
Bartley  showed  two  very  confiding  and  cordial,  letters  from  Mr.  Mead- 
ows and  Miss  Taylor.  I  produced  Vandenhoff 's,  and  showed  the 
impolicy,  the  imprudence,  of  attempting  to  do  without  him  —  they 
admitted  it.  I  stated  that,  unless  the  subscription  to  the  plan  was 
unanimous,  I  would  not  go  on  with  it ;  they  assented  to  the  reasona- 
bleness of  my  views.  I  instructed  Bartley  to  get  up  a  meeting  of  the 
actors,  and  obtain  from  them  either  a  set  of  resolutions  declaratory  of 
their  confidence  in  me,  and  their  agreement  to  make  a  reasonable  re- 
duction of  their  claims,  or  the  refusal  to  give  it. 

13^.  —  Mr.  Pope  came  into  the  back  parlor,  where  I  was  sleeping, 
and  told  me  that  my  dearest  Catherine  was  well  —  delivered  of  a  fine 
little  girl.1 

I  raise  my  heart  to  God  Almighty  in  humble  and  fervent  prayer 
and  thanksgiving,  acknowledging  with  grateful  thanks  His  great  boun- 
ties and  imploring  his  merciful  protection  for  this  my  darling  new-born 
babe,  and  all  the  rest  of  my  precious  family. 

I  looked  at  my  watch,  and  found  the  time  about  half-past  four.  I 
was  dreadfully  fatigued.  At  breakfast,  Messrs.  Bartley  and  Meadows 
called  to  explain  their  objection  to  the  meeting.  They  settled  to 
call  on  the  different  actors.  I  do  not  anticipate  that  it  will  ripen  to 
anything,  and  am  indifferent  about  it  —  preferring  exemption  from  it. 
Went  with  the  children  in  the  carriage  to  Elstree,  calling  on  Wal- 
lace by  the  way.  The  country  about  Elstree,  and  its  delicious  quiet, 
made  me  think  with  regret  of  my  prospect  of  seeing  so  little  of  it. 
Gathered  flowers  and  fruit.  Corrected  proof-sheet  of  first  act  of 
"  The  Bridal." 

14th.  —  Received  an  answer  from  Miss  Faucit,  expressing  the  best 
spirit  as  far  as  she  was  concerned.  Went  to  Covent  Garden,  where  I 
met  Bartley  and  Robertson,  and  heard  of  the  indecisive  answers  ob- 
tained from  the  singers  ;  sent  him  to  them,  and  Dowton  to  get  some 
positive  determination.  Mr.  Warde  gave  in  his  adhesion  in  the  event 
of  his  freedom  to  engage. 

Fladgate,  T.  Hill,  and  some  others  spoke  to  me  about  "  having  taken 
Covent  Garden  Theater."  I  told  them  I  had  not  taken  it. 

Mr.  Webster  wished  to  extend  my  engagement,  and  gave  in  his  ad- 
hesion to  Covent  Garden  Theater. 

15th.  —  Corrected  the  proof-sheet  of  "  The  Bridal,"  and  afterwards 
went  to  Robertson's.  Found  Bartley  and  Robertson.  After  hearing 
of  Giubilei,  and  Williams's  assent,  and  Miss  Romer's  refusal,  decided 
on  sending  Bartley  to  Vandenhoff  at  Birmingham  to  get  his  answer 
positively.  Meadows  came  in,  and  agreed  to  go  on  Tuesday  (if  not 
required)  to  Swansea  after  Miss  Shirreff. 

1  Harriet  Joanna,  died  25th  November,  1 840 


406  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1837 

Acted  Melantius  very  fairly.  Spoke  after  the  play  to  Mr.  Elton 
and  to  Mr.  Strickland  on  the  subject  of  Covent  Garden  ;  both  seemed 
strongly  inclined  to  me,  and  Strickland  pledged  himself,  if  he  could  get 
his  release  from  Braham. 

16th.  —  Set  to  work  at  the  correction  of  the  sheets  of  "  BridaK" 
Marked  them  and  the  preface. 

Called  on  Wallace  to  speak  about  the  alterations  in  the  preface. 
Tried  the  working  of  the  company  by  casting  several  plays.  Dined 
with  J.  Reid.  Walked  home. 

17th.  —  Went  down  to  Covent  Garden  Theater.  Saw  Mr.  Mead- 
ows, who  gave  in  the  assent  of  Mr.  Diddear  to  serve  on  reduced  terms  ; 
sent  for  Willmott  and  spoke  to  him  about  other  persons.  Mr.  Elton 
gave  in  his  adhesion  to  Covent  Garden.  Received  a  note  from  Bartley, 
informing  me  that  Vandenhoff  was  positively  engaged  with  31  r.  Wal- 
lace, and  was  to  sail  for  the  United  States  August  1st. 

18th.  —  Set  my  dear  children  copies,  being  dissatisfied  with  the  un- 
meaning words  which  were  given  them  to  write,  when  the  occasion 
might  afford  matter  for  them  to  profit  by.  Met  Bartley  at  Robert- 
son's, and  learned  from  him  the  result  of  his  interview  with  Mr.  Van- 
denhoff. He  caught  Mr.  Vandenhoff  on  his  arrival  from  Liverpool 
and  told  him  of  his  errand ;  Mr.  Vandenhoff  informed  him  of  his  pos- 
itive engagement  at  New  York,  but  wished  to  be  made  acquainted  with 
the  particulars  of  his  message.  When  told,  he  remained  silent  a  very 
long  while,  and  at  length  broke  out  into  very  ardent  expressions  of 
praise  on  what  he  termed  my  "noble  conduct,"  adding  that,  had  he  been 
free,  he  would  most  gladly  have  gone  with  the  plan.  Mr.  Meadows 
brought  news  of  Mr.  Power's  cordial  adhesion  to  the  plan,  and  received 
instructions  to  meet  me  to-morrow  prepared  for  his  journey  to  Swan- 
sea. Told  Bartley  that  I  should  decline  proceeding  on  the  former 
plan,  having  lost  Mr.  Vandenhoff  and  Miss  Romer ;  but  that,  not  to 
desert  the  cause  of  actors  and  proprietors,  I  would  consent  to  pay  £40 
per  night  rent  for  180  nights,  paying  myself  a  salary  of  £30  per  week, 
and  divide  any  surplus  at  the  rate  of  three  fifths  to  the  proprietors,  two 
fifths  to  myself,  till  the  remainder  of  £8,800,  should  be  paid  to  them. 
He  very  much  approved  it,  and  wrote  as  much  to  Robinson. 

19<A. —  Dispatched  Mr.  Meadows  to  Miss  Sherriff  at  Swansea,  with 
instructions  to  him  how  far  to  go. 

Acted  Melantius  not  well.  The  occupation  of  my  mind  in  other 
matters  is  already  beginning  to  display  its  effect  on  my  acting,  and  I 
must  be  most  careful  to  guard  against  its  encroachment  on  my  labors 
for  improvement ;  I  was  not  good  to-night.  Spoke  to  Mrs.  Humby, 
and  secured  her  for  £6  10s.  per  week. 

20th. —  Went  out  to  take  a  hasty  glance  at  the  Exhibition,  with 
which  I  was  very  much  gratified.  What  a  munificent  patron  I  should 
have  been  had  I  been  born  with,  or  had  I  acquired,  a  large  superfluity  ! 
Went  on  to  Covent  Garden,  where  Bartley  was  waiting  for  me. 

20th.  —  Mr.  F.  Vining  called,  and,  after  a  long  conversation,  con- 
sented to  take  £9  10s.,  we  concluded  on  his  engagement ;  in  the  mean 


1837.  LISTON.  407 

time  I  settled  with  T.  Matthews  for  £3,  and  afterwards  called  on  Mrs. 
Glover,  and  agreed  with  her  for  £9  10s.  Wrote  to  Kenny,  offering 
him  the  office  of  Reader  at  £3  per  week.  Examined  and  calculated 
the  expenses  of  the  theater,  and  went  into  its  details,  up  to  a  late  hour. 

2lst.  —  Went  to  Co  vent  Garden  Theater,  where  I  discussed  much 
business  with  Robertson  and  Bartley :  actors,  musical  department,  ar- 
rangement of  lobbies,  etc.  Mr.  Diddear  called,  talking  with  him  about 
business,  I  sent  him  away  quite  satisfied.  Saw  Mr.  Marshall,  painter 
to  the  theater,  leader  of  orchestra,  and  Robertson ;  they  gave  their 
hearty  promise  to  do  their  best  to  meet  the  plan  of  the  new  arrange- 
ment. 

Mr.  Robertson  acquainted  me  with  an  offer  of  a  Mr.  Downe  of  the 
York  Circuit  of  £5,000  for  the  first  year,  and  £6,000  for  the  second, 
adding  that  the  Covent  Garden  proprierors  would  not  listen  to  it. 
Spoke  about  bills,  musical  department,  alteration  of  boxes,  excluding 
women  of  the  town  from  the  two  lowest  tiers. 

Acted  Melantius  pretty  well.  Received  a  crowd  of  letters  from 
various  persons,  applying  for  engagements  at  Covent  Garden. 

22d.  —  Letters  from  Wightwick  about  Mr.  Phelps,  and  from 
Meadows,  informing  me  of  Miss  Sherriffs  assent  to  £18  per  week. 
My  mind  is  quite  made  up  to  enter  upon  the  direction  of  Covent  Garden 
Theater,  and  I  fervently  and  with  humility  invoke  the  blessing  of 
Almighty  God  upon  my  efforts  and  labors.  Sent  a  note  to  Miss  Alar- 
tineau,  informing  her  of  her  box  for  Monday,  inclosing  her  a  book  of 
the  "  Bridal,"  and  mentioning  our  purpose  of  naming  our  little  babe 
after  her. 

Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater,  saw  Messrs.  Robertson  and  Bartley, 
and  learned  from  the  latter  that  Mr.  Warde  was  very  ill,  but  steady  to 
his  promise  of  coming  to  Covent  Garden,  if  not  in  his  own  theater. 
Told  Robertson  that  1  would  take  the  theater  —  read  my  letter  to  Mr. 
Osbaldiston,  but  would  not  seal  it  to  him  with  the  theater  seal.  Saw 
and  engaged  Mrs.  Clifford  and  Miss  E.  Phillips. 

Sunday,  July  23rf.  —  Rose  rather  early  and  considerably  tired,  to  go 
post  to  Penn,  where  Liston  lives.  On  my  way  I  arranged  in  my  own 
mind  the  business  of  "  Hamlet,"  scenery,  etc.  Arriving  at  Penn,  I 
drove  up  to  Listen's  house,  and  found  that  he  had  gone  to  church  ;  I 
was  glad  of  the  opportunity,  and,  going  in,  was  shown  into  a  pew. 
The  service  was  most  respectably  performed,  the  church  very  clean  and 
neat. 

I  was  pleased  and  interested,  and  happy  in  the  opportunity  of  im- 
ploring the  Divine  blessing  upon  the  enterprise  I  have  in  hand.  After 
service  I  looked  about  the  church-yard  for  Liston,  whom  I  had  observed 
very  gravely  attending  to  his  duty  in  church,  and  when  I  approached 
him,  his  surprise  was  extreme.  I  walked  home  with  him,  and  saw 
Mrs.  L.  and  another  lady ;  talked  for  some  time,  lunched,  and  walked 
out  with  Liston  to  look  at  Taylor's  house,  and  see  something  of  the 
country,  which  is  pretty,  but  not  comparable  to  the  neighborhood  of 
Elstree.  We  talked  of  many  things,  chiefly  theatrical,  and  I  asked 


408  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1837. 

him  to  come  to  Covent  Garden.  He  said  that  he  never  intended  to 
act  again.  I  did  not  urge  him,  but  as  we  talked  on,  I  told  him  we 
should  not  differ  on  terms,  and  that  I  should  be  happy  to  see  him  and 
would  make  him  as  comfortable  as  I  could.  I  got  a  frequent  repeti- 
tion of  the  promise  from  him  that,  if  he  acted  anywhere,  it  should  be 
with  me,  and  I  thought  I  perceived  a  disposition  in  him  to  yield,  which 
I  thought  it  better  not  to  press.  Met  Taylors,  declined  their  invita- 
tions to  dinner,  and  left  them  on  Liston's  premises.  Returned  to 
"  Hamlet."  Reached  home  by  half  past  five. 

24th.  —  Went  into  the  theater  to  take  possession  of  it,  invoking  the 
blessing  of  Almighty  God  upon  my  undertaking.  Talked  with  Mar- 
shall, who  seemed  to  enter  into  all  my  plans  respecting  scenery,  etc. 
Mr.  Rodwell  came  to  speak  to  me  about  his  place  as  director  of  the 
music,  which  he  had  accepted  on  reduced  terms  ;  he  left  me  perfectly 
satisfied. 

25th.  —  Went  to  theater,  where  I  found  Messrs.  Robertson  and 
Bartley.  Mr.  Marshall,  the  painter,  was  there,  and  we  discussed  the 
expense  of  the  painting-room,  concluding  by  requesting  him  to  recon- 
sider his  estimate,  and  see  me  to-morrow.  Mr.  Buckstone  called.  Mr. 
Harris  called  and,  in  talking  over  the  matter  of  the  theater,  gave  some 
very  valuable  hints.  I  sent  Bartley  to  speak  to  Dowton,  and  offer 
him  £10  per  night,  without  any  condition  as  to  number  of  nights. 

2Gth.  —  Applied  myself  to  the  construction  of  the  actors'  articles  of 
agreement.  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater,  saw  Mr.  Bartley,  spoke 
to  Mr.  Marshall,  and  received  his  estimate  of  the  painting-room ;  went 
into  the  theater,  and  talked  over  the  matter  of  our  engagement  with 
Mr.  Pritchard ;  after  him  came  Mr.  and  Miss  Land,  with  whom  I 
finally  concluded. 

Went  over  a  calculation  of  the  week's  expenses  with  Robertson  ;  it 
still  approaches  £150  per  night.  Came  home  and  lay  down  after  din- 
ner. Acted  Melantius  pretty  well.  A  great  number  of  notes  and 
letters ;  among  them  was  one  from  Miss  Vandenhoff,  very  civil,  one 
from  Miss  Kelly ;  one,  an  application  from  Miss  Betts,  which  I  was 
very  glad  to  receive. 

27th.  —  Answered  Messrs.  Bennett,  Montague,  and  Tilbury.  Re- 
ceived a  letter,  in  very  kind  strain,  from  Calcraft,  lamenting  my  under- 
taking ;  his  lamentation  was  a  prophecy.  Called  on  Wallace  to  ask 
his  opinion  of  memorializing  the  Queen  for  her  special  patronage,  and 
the  liberty  to  assume  the  title  of  Her  Majesty's  Company  of  Per- 
formers. He  thought,  if  obtained,  it  would  be  of  great  service,  and 
assented  to  the  proposal  to  get  an  introduction  to  Lord  Durham,  and 
ask  his  interest  I  called  on  Miss  Kelly,  who  wished  me  to  hear  some 
pupils  of  hers.  Went  on,  in  my  day's  cab,  to  Covent  Garden  Theater ; 
saw  Mr.  Bartley,  and  received  many  letters. 

Mr.  Webster  called  at  the  theater.  Mr.  Land,  Payne,  Paulo.  Let- 
ter of  application  from  T.  Cooke. 

Mr.  Elton  called.  He  asked  me  if  I  had  resolved  on  his  engage- 
ment. I  told  him  that,  "  Certainly,  everything  had  been  settled  be- 


1837.  .       LORD  DURHAM.  409 

tween  us."  He  said,  "  Oh,  no.  I  did  not  understand  that,"  etc.,  deny- 
ing an  engagement  that  was  most  explicitly  and  clearly  formed.  I 
struck  his  name  out  of  my  list,  but  another  engagement,  made  in  con- 
sequence of  his,  of  £9  10s.  per  week,  is  thus  uselessly  saddled  on  me. 

Called  on  Forster,  and  then  went  on  to  Lady  Blessington's,  saw 
her,  and  was  just  on  the  point  of  opening  my  message  to  her  when 
Lord  Durham  was  announced.  I  was  introduced,  and  in  a  short  time 
mentioned  my  desire  to  see  him,  and  to  ask  his  opinion  on  the  Queen's 
acquiescence  in  my  wish.  He  thought  she  would  not  and  ought  not 
to  give  a  preference  to  one  theater,  but  that  the  title  of  Her  Majesty's 
Servants  he  thought  she  ought  to  give,  and  would  say  a  word  or  two 
to  the  official  persons  to  induce  her. 

2cJth.  —  Walked  to  Oxford  Street,  took  cab  home.  The  cabman  in- 
sisted on  two  shillings,  which  I  resisted  ;  and,  on  his  persisting,  I  made 
him  .drive  me  to  the  police  office,  where  a  deposit  was  made  for  the 
measurement  of  the  ground.  I  walked  home.  Acted  Melantius  pretty 
well.  J.  Macaulay  came  into  my  room ;  quite  glad  to  see  him,  but 
pained  and  rather  shocked  to  hear  him  declare  himself  a  Conservative. 

30th.  —  Made  out  the  articles  of  agreement  for  performers  and  looked 
over  the  table  of  forfeits.  Inclosed  first  in  note  to  Robertson,  second  to 
Bartley.  Wrote  to  Wightwick.  Sat  a  short  time  with  dear  Catherine, 
who  was  not  well.  Settled  my  accounts.  Wilmott  called,  and  told 
me  of  his  determination  to  leave  the  English  opera  house,  spoke  to  him 
about  ballet,  etc. 

Gave  some  time  and  thought  to  the  arrangement  of  my  company, 
after  receiving  a  letter  from  Mr.  Elton  recanting  what  he  had  said, 
and  wishing  to  withdraw  his  refusal  to  accept  a  reduced  salary. 

31st.  —  Saw  Bartley  and  Robertson,  and  transacted  business  with 
both  of  them.  Sent  Bartley  to  Miss  Betts,  and  commissioned  him  to 
write  to  Mr.  Phelps.  Mr.  Dowton  called,  and  I  had  a  long  and  fruit- 
less conversation  with  him,  arguing  the  point  of  salary,  he  wishing  me 
to  give  a  certainty  and  I  declining :  and  so  we  parted.  Letters  at 
home  from  young  Kean  declining,  and  Kenny  accepting.  Mr.  Elton 
came  in,  and,  after  disclaiming  any  desire  to  take  advantage  of  me, 
surrendered  himself  entirely  into  my  hands,  I  telling  him  that  I  would 
rate  him  at  £10  10s. 

August  1st.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater,  where  I  saw  Messrs. 
Bartley  and  Willmott,  with  the  latter  I  made  arrangements  about 
ballet,  etc. 

Went  to  the  police-office,  where  I  found  I  was  cast  in  costs  of  3s., 
which  I  very  cheerfully  paid,  though  I  can  scarcely  yet  believe  my- 
self wrong.  Returned  to  Covent  Garden,  saw  Mr.  David  Fisher,  and 
heard  him  rehearse  Othello's  apology  ;  gave  him  advice  and  courteously 
parted  with  him.  Saw  Mr.  Giubilei,  who  is  under  the  apprehension 
that  he  is  held  by  law  to  Drury  Lane.  Spoke  to  Bedford,  who  also 
wishes  to  come  to  Covent  Garden  Theater.  Went  on  to  Bank,  and 
received  dividends.  Returned  home.  Forster  called,  who  had  pre- 
viously sent  a  splendid  proof,  beautifully  framed,  of  Landseer's  "  Bolton 
Abbey."  a  very  elegant  and  costly  present. 


410  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1837. 

3d.  —  Went  to  rehearsal ;  the  play  over  I  proceeded  to  Covent  Gar- 
den, where  I  saw  Bartley,  and  heard  his  communications. 

Saw  Messrs.  Land,  Willmott,  Marshall,  Sloman,  etc.  Returning 
home  I  called  at  No.  8  York  Terrace,  and  liked  it  so  much  that  I 
decided  on  taking  it  for  the  winter,  if  I  could  have  it  at  my  own  price. 

5th.  —  Messrs,  Rooke  and  Haines  came  by  appointment,  and  dis- 
cussed the  curtailment  and  the  casting  of  the  opera.  Rooke  did  not 
seem  to  like  the  idea  of  the  suggested  amputations.  We  came  to  the 
subject  of  price,  and  after  some  demur  I  sent  the  authors  out  of  the 
room  to  arrange  the  matter  ;  they  returned,  and  Mr.  Rooke  was  lefc 
to  settle  it  with  me.  He  asked  me  £20  per  night  for  ten  nights,  £1  "> 
for  ten  more,  and  £5  ever  after.  I  observed  that  this  was  too  hard 
on  me.  I  offered  £10  per  night  for  ten  nights,  £15  for  ten  nights, 
and  £10  for  fifteen  nights,  and  to  pay  £100  down.  (£100  to  be  se- 
cured.) This  Mr.  Rooke  accepted,  and  we  signed  agreement  I  paid 
him  a  check  for  £100  and  took  his  receipt.  Mrs.  Glover  came  and 
held  a  parley,  then  signed  her  agreement.  Messrs.  Huinby,  Huddart, 
and  Taylor,  did  the  same  ;  Meadows,  Webster,  etc.,  also. 

6th.  —  Looked  over  "  Beggar's  Bush"  with  a  view  to  alteration; 
abandoned  it.  Looked  at  "  Faithful  Shepherdess  ;  "  gave  it  up. 

7th.  —  Went  to  theater,  and  joined  Messrs.  Bartley  and  Willmott. 
Learned  that  my  purchase  of  Mr.  Rooke's  opera  had  produced  a  good 
effect  among  the  musical  people.  Letters  from  Mr.  Anderson  accept- 
ing my  offer. 

Messrs.  Payne,  Smith,  Bender,  Collett,  Worrall,  Manvers,  Stretton, 
etc.,  called  and  signed  their  articles. 

Went  over  the  box-lobby,  etc.,  with  Robertson  and  Bartley ;  sug- 
gested the  construction  of  a  private  lobby  to  the  first  circle,  and  the 
removal  of  the  statues  from  the  closed  saloon  to  the  entrance  hall,  to 
which  Robertson  agreed. 

Sth.  —  Went  with  Robertson  over  pit  passages,  also  proposed  that 
proprietors  should  allow  me  consideration  for  my  new  lobby,  if  found 
to  succeed.  Robertson  agreed  to  it.  Went  with  Robertson  over 
terms  of  lease,  which  were  all  satisfactory.  He  introduced  me  to  Mr. 
Gwilt,  whom  I  liked. 

lOlh.  —  Mr.  Tilbury  called,  and  after  some  little  conference  with 
Mr.  Bartley  signed  his  agreement. 

llth.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater. 

Bartley  came  from  the  Chamberlain's  office  to  say  that  an  appoint- 
ment would  be  made  for  me  with  the  Lord  Chamberlain  on  Wednes- 
day. Spoke,  with  Bradwell  and  Robertson  about  entrance-hall,  lobby, 
and  saloon,  and  decided  on  further  improvements ;  agreed  to  Brad- 
well's  estimate. 

Acted  Melantius  for  the  last  time,  at  the  Haymarket,  in  my  very 
best  manner.  I  was  very  much  applauded,  and  "  hotly  called  for  "  by 
the  audience ;  when  I  went  forward  I  was  most  cordially  received. 
Thus  ended  my  first  Haymarket  engagement,  and  devoutly  and  fer- 
vently do  I  return  thanks  to  God  Almighty  for  this  among  the  many 
mercies  His  goodness  has  vouchsafed  me. 


1837.  SOUTHAMPTON.  411 

12th.  —  Mr.  Maddox  called,  and  I  signed  with  him,  exchanging  an 
agreement  for  the  furnished  house,  8  York  Gate,  for  seven  months, 
from  September  21st. 

My  prize,  Girl's  Head  by  Gainsborough,  came  home. 

1 3th.  —  The  idea  of  an  afterpiece  founded  on  Zadig  occurred  to 
me,  but  I  soon  came  to  the  conviction  that  none  of  our  playwrights 
could  use  the  materials  it  affords. 

1 4th.  —  Rose  early  to  go  by  coach  to  Southampton  ;  the  coach  was 
overfilled  —  three  women,  myself,  and  a  squalling,  fretful  child.  The 
day  was  so  oppressive  that  the  stew  reminded  me  of  some  of  our 
American  journeys,  or  even  of  some  days  in  the  velturas  of  Italy.  I 
read  with  attention,  in  reference  to  performance,  the  "  Winter's  Tale," 
and,  after  having  reflected  on  it,  went  through  "  Measure  for  Meas- 
ure,'' so  that  my  day  was  not  entirely  lost  to  me. 

On  my  arrival  in  this  very  pretty  town  I  wrote  a  note  to  Mr. 
Phelps,  and  after  dining  carried  it  with  me  to  the  theater.  Saw  the 
play  of  the  "  Iron  Chest ;  "  what  a  thing  it  is.  I  was  disgusted  with 
the  patches  of  sentiment  and  clap-traps  upon  national  privileges,  hu- 
manity, and  all  the  other  virtues  in  which  G.  Colman  was  so  rich  — 
on  paper. 

I  left  my  note  for  him.  He  called  at  the  Dolphin,  and  I  offered 
him  either  the  salary  he  might  take  from  Mr.  Webster,  or  to  give  him 
now  a  salary,  if  he  would  name  one,  that  I  could  meet.  He  preferred 
waiting  for  Mr.  Webster,  and  we  interchanged  agreements  to  that 
effect.  I  liked  his  tone  and  manner. 

16th.  —  Took  Bartley  in  carriage  to  Hyde  Park.  Called  on  Lord 
Conyngham  at  Dudley  House  ;  saw  some  good  pictures.  Lord  C.  re- 
ceived me  very  courteously  and  entered  (or  seemed  to  do  so)  into  my 
views,  promised  to  present  my  memorial  to  the  Queen,  and  to  say  all 
he  could  for  it.  I  left  him  much  pleased. 

Returned  to  Covent  Garden  Theater.  Occupied  the  whole  morn- 
ing. Wrote  to  Phillips.  Signed  articles  with  Diddear,  Miss  P.  Hor- 
ton,  Wilson,  Mrs.  East.  Wrote  to  Mr.  Pritchard.  Dickens  called 
with  Mr.  Hullah,  who  has  a  comic  opera  nearly  ready. 

Idth.  —  Sent  Bartley  to  Lord  Chamberlain's  office  to  inquire  form, 
etc.,  of  memorial.  Spoke  to  Marshall  about  scenes  for  plays.  Saw 
sketch  of  new  curtain,  corrected  it  and  approved.  Went  with  Brad- 
well  over  saloon  and  lobbies,  hearing  remarks  and  giving  directions. 
Took  a  cab  and  called  on  Wallace,  who  had  finished  the  memorial. 
We  went  over  it,  agreeing  on  one  or  two  trifling  verbal  alterations, 
and  I  copied  out  the  MS.  Returning,  saw  Bartley ;  spoke  to  Miss 
Huddart  about  her  business. 

Wrote  my  memorial  to  the  Queen,  requesting  her  to  let  me  call  the 
Covent  Garden  players,  "  Her  Majesty's  Company  of  Performers." 
Inclosed  it  in  a  note  to  the  Lord  Chamberlain  and  sent  it. 

My  clothes  were  packed  up.  Went  in  a  chaise  to  Elstree,  reading 
"Examiner"  by  the  way.  I  looked  up  at  the  beauty  of  the  massive 
foliage  of  the  trees,  and  the  sky  in  mild  glow  of  a  rich  sunset,  and  was 


412  MACREADY' S  DIARIES.  1837. 

surprised  to  think  how  little  I  looked  at  nature  now.  Is  this  good  for 
me  ?  I  fear  not. 

Elstree,  August  21st.  —  Looked  through  Byron's  "  Deformed  Trans- 
formed," to  see  if  it  was  available  for  representation  — No.  Gave  up 
the  greater  part  of  the  day  to  the  perusal  and  arrangement  of  Byron's 
'•  Two  Foscari."  I  think  it  looks  more  dramatic  than  I  formerly  con- 
ceived it.  Wrote  to  Knowles,  recommending  as  subjects  the  Sicilian 
Vespers,  Agnes  Bernauer,  and  the  adaptation  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher's  "  Honest  Man's  Fortune." 

Read  the  "  Two  Foscari "  to  Catherine  and  Letitia,  who  were  much 
affected  by  it. 

22d.  —  Went  cautiously  through  Byron's  "  Two  Foscari,"  which  I 
cut  and  prepared  for  representation.  Began  the  re-arrangement  of 
Shakespeare's  "  Measure  for  Measure."  In  the  course  of  my  work, 
Jerrold  and  Forster  arrived  ;  after  them  a  packet  of  books  and  letters 
from  Bartley,  and  notes  from  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  office  requiring 
my  presence,  but  accepting  Bartley  as  my  representative.  I  wrote  to 
him  to  go.  One  of  my  letters  is  from  Birmingham,  addressed  to  W. 
Macready,  Esq.,  at  his  residence  in  London.  Talked  with  Jerrold 
after  dinner  on  the  piece  he  has  in  contemplation,  one  scene  of  which 
he  read  to  me. 

23d. —  Bartley  came  ;  he  brought  me  letters,  news,  and  a  message 
from  the  Lord  Chamberlain.  In  answer  to  my -memorial,  the  Queen 
had  expressed  herself  much  interested  in  Covent  Garden  ;  stated  that 
she  had  great  respect  for  Mr.  Macready  and  admiration  for  his  talent, 
that  the  precise  object  of  his  request  required  consideration,  but  if  it 
should  be  deemed  impracticable  to  concede,  that  she  trusted  other 
means  might  be  found  of  rendering  assistance  to  his  undertaking. 
Talked  over  various  matters,  and  decided  on  several.  After  dinner 
arranged  the  first  fortnight's  business,  and  cast  the  plays. 

24th.  —  Talked  with  Bartley  on  business,  and  gave  him  several 
memoranda  of  things  to  do.  Read  over  the  pantomime,  which  seemed 
to  be  very  droll.  Bartley  left  us,  and  I  took  a  walk  in  the  garden  for 
about  half  an  hour,  snatching  this  short  enjoyment  of  the  sweetness  of 
the  air.  Finished  the  arrangement  of  the  prompt-book  of  the  "  Two 
Foscari." 

25th.  —  Much  fatigued  and  indisposed  to  rise  ;  did  not  leave  my  bed 
until  10  o'clock,  and  was  occupied  the  whole  morning  in  examining 
and  sorting  my  wardrobe  for  my  intended  long  residence  in  London. 
Received  a  parcel  from  the  undaunted  Mr. who  will  not  be  de- 
nied ;  he  sends  his  thrice  rejected  play  as  a  present !  Busied  in  pack- 
ing up  ;  enjoyed  for  a  short  time  the  beauty  of  the  day  and  the  sight 
of  my  darling  family ;  sent  up  a  balloon,  a  very  pretty  toy,  which 
delighted  them  very  much  :  it  was  a  sweet  holiday.  The  thought  of 
the  length  of  time  and  the  vicissitudes  that  may  occur  before  I  again 
re-greet  this  happy  home  and  the  dear  country  again,  gave  double  zest 
to  every  delighted  sensation  that  I  derived  from  the  air,  the  leaves,  my 
family,  and  the  freedom  about  me.  Finished  my  packing  up  and  spent 
the  remainder  of  the  day  with  my  dear  family. 


1837.  A  FRENCH  ADMIRER.  413 

London,  August  26th.  —  Left  my  dear,  my  blessed  home,  its  quiet, 
and  its  joys,  to  enter  on  a  task  for  which  nature  and  taste  have  dis- 
qualified me. 

Thought  on  business  as  I  journeyed  to  London,  occasionally  in- 
terrupted by  less  useful  suggestions.  Proceeded  to  Covent  Garden 
Theater,  reaching  it  a  little  before  11  o'clock.  Received  several  let- 
ters. Saw  Bartley  and  Willmott. 

Saw  and  talked  on  business  with  Mr.  Hammond.  Signed  with  Mr. 
Pritchard.  Spoke  to  Mr.  Bottomley  about  coals.  Settled  many  mat- 
ters about  the  theater  with  Bradwell  —  gallery,  pit,  boxes,  and  stage. 
Wrote  answer  to  several  letters. 

Talked  with  Mr.  Egerton  Webbe  about  his  burlesque  opera,  and 
settled  to  make  an  appointment  with  him  to  hear  it  tried  over.  Saw 
Calcraft  and  talked  with  him.  Forster  spoke  with  Serle  about  his 
projected  melodrama. 

London  to  Bristol,  August  27th.  —  Rose  early,  and  wrote  to  Bart- 
ley  whilst  waiting  for  my  breakfast ;  proceeded  to  coach  office  and  set 
off  for  Bristol.  The  first  stage  was  given  to  musing  on  my  past  life, 
the  dream  that  it  has  been,  the  perfect  realization  of  all  that  philoso- 
phy or  poetry  says  of  this  cr/aas  ovap  *  —  life  —  and  turned  to  specu- 
lation on  the  future ;  made  up  my  mind  to  bear  with  equanimity  the 
lot  that  Providence  assigns  me,  and  to  do  my  best  to  improve  it. 
Read  over  Macbeth,  'interrupted  occasionally  by  two  of  my  fellow- 
passengers,  one  a  Frenchman,  and  his  opposite  neighbor,  a  Colonel 
Hankey,  who  spoke  French  very  fluently,  and  talked  incessantly  till 
his  departure  between  reading  and  Newbury.  Read  over  more  than 
once  the  Duke  in  "  Measure  for  Measure,"  which  I  resolved  to  exert 
myself  upon,  as  well  as  upon  Foscari."  Now  and  then  joined  in  the 
conversation  with  the  talkers.  After  we  quitted  Marlborough,  where 
the  old  woman,  our  fourth  party,  left  us,  I  fell  into  conversation  with 
Monsieur,  but  found  my  French  very  rusty ;  we  talked  on  various 
subjects,  and  at  last  the  theater  was  mentioned  by  him,  and  shortly 
after  my  name.  I  told  him  that  I  was  the  person  he  was  speaking 
of — his  surprise  and  pleasure  were  extreme.  His  enthusiasm  broke 
forth,  and  he  told  me  that  he  had  seen  me  in  Paris,  and  of  his  delight 
and  rapture  at  the  performance  of  Virginius,  and  of  the  opinion  of  all 
Paris  on  my  performance.  Our  conversation  lasted  very  long;  he 
requested  me  to  write  my  name  and  that  of  Wordsworth,  whom  I 
mentioned  to  him  as  our  great  philosophic  poet,  in  his  memorandum 
book  ;  he  seemed  quite  delighted,  and  made  me  again  lament  that  the 
destiny  which  made  me  a  player,  had  not  made  me  a  French  one. 
After  long  silence,  on  resuming  our  conversation,  he  repeated  to  me 
some  lines,  which  he  wrote  down  for  me  when  we  reached  the  White 
Lion,  Bristol : 

A  L'ILLUSTRE  MACREDB:. 
Toi,  dont  le  desespoir  m'a  glace  de  terreur, 

Quand  la  main  fremissante  immolait  Virginie; 
Fils  de  Shakespeare,  adieu  !  c'est  dans  ton  noble  cceur 
Que  le  ciel  a  jete  le  feu  de  ton  genie. 

1  Dream  of  a  shadow.  —  ED. 


414  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1837. 

I  showed  him  all  the  civilities  in  my  power,  and  requested  to  see 
him  in  London. 

Bristol,  August  SSth.  —  Acted  Macbeth  as  I  could,  without  any  sup- 
port, and  drawbacks  in  every  character  except  Macduff.  It  was  really 
moral  torture.  I  scarcely  ever  experienced  more  in  a  theater. 

29M.  —  For  an  hour  before  I  rose,  I  worked  at  the  words  of  the 
Duke  in  "  Measure  for  Measure,"  which  I  find  the  most  difficult  of  any 
part  I  have  ever  labored  at  to  fasten  in  my  memory,  pursued  this  same 
task  until  I  went  to  rehearsal,  and  there  I  continued  it.  Acted  Vir- 
ginius  miserably  ;  it  was  painful  to  myself,  and  could  have  been  satis- 
factory to  no  one. 

Sent  for  the  "  Morning  Herald,"  and  read  the  account  of  Mr. 
Phelps's  appearance,  which  seems  to  me  a  decided  success.  It  de- 
pressed my  spirits,  though  perhaps  it  should  not  do  so.  If  he  is 
greatly  successful,  I  shall  reap  the  profits;  if  moderately,  he  will 
strengthen  my  company.  But  an  actor's  fame  and  his  dependent  in- 
come is  so  precarious,  that  we  start  at  every  shadow  of  an  actor.  It 
is  an  unhappy  life  ! 

30th. — If  I  had  a  sufficient  property  to  leave  each  of  my  children 
a  moderate  allowance  on  their  start  into  life,  and  to  give  them  educa- 
tions, I  would  certainly  never  act  again,  nor  ever  concern  myself 
about  a  theater  ;  certainly,  I  think,  never  enter  one  —  at  least,  for  my- 
self. 

Wrote  to  Wallace  for  the  preliminary  address,  which  I  cannot  pre- 
tend to  write  or  even  sketch.  Looked  over  some  plays.  Studied 
Duke.  Revised  and  cut  two  acts  of  "  To  Marry  or  Not,"  which  I 
think  will  act  well. 

31st.  —  Received  a  parcel  with  two  MSS.  and  a  letter  from  Bart- 
ley.  I  have  great  difficulty  in  proceeding  tranquilly  about  what  I 
have  to  do.  1  am  for  rushing  at  once  into  it.  This  is  not  the  way  to 
succeed,  and  I  must  cure  myself  of  it.  Went  to  rehearsal,  and  pleased 
myself  with  the  manner  in  which  I  rehearsed  Othello.  Decided  on 
"  Julius  Caesar  "  for  my  benefit ;  cast  it  and  the  play  to  the  company. 

Acted  Othello,  as  I  thought,  very  well  at  the  beginning,  but  was 
destroyed  by  the  actors  as  I  proceeded. 

September  1st.  —  Acted  Werner  very  unequally  ;  could  have  played 
it  better  than  I  ever  in  my  life  did  ;  and  did  perform  some  parts  in  a 
perfect  style,  but  was  cut  up  by  the  dreadful  inaccuracy  of  the  actors 
in  others. 

(jth.  —  Went  to  rehearsal,  and  took  considerable  pains,  really  using 
the  occasion  as  a  study,  but  soon  became  so  fatigued  that  it  was  pain- 
ful for  me  to  stand  up  so  long.  I  feel  heavily  the  coming  on  of  years. 
I  shall  be  an  old  man  (if  I  live)  at  an  early  age  — certainly  if  I  continue 
on  the  stage. 

Went  to  the  theater,  and  endeavored  to  philosophize  on  the  folly  of 
yielding  to  passion ;  schooling  myself  to  try  how  much  better  I  should 
be  in  every  way  if  I  could  care  nothing  for  those  around  me,  but 
merely  fixing  attention  on  my  own  manner  of  doing  things.  I  tried  to 


1837.  CO  VENT  GARDEN  THEATER  OPENS.  415 

do  so  —  not  with  entire  success,  but  I  must  hope  to  improve.  Acted 
Hamlet  in  my  very  best  possible  style  ;  was  satisfied. 

[llth  to  22d. —  Engagement  at  Birmingham.] 

Birmingham,  September  l'2th.  —  Acted  Othello  indifferently.  I  was 
made  nervous  at  the  outset,  and,  though  I  labored,  I  could  not  hide  the 
labor  —  it  was  a  bad  performance. 

The  great  error  of  my  performance  of  Othello  was  in  the  heavy, 
stately  tone  in  which  I  pitched  the  part,  instead  of  the  free,  bold, 
cheerful,  chivalrous  bearing  of  the  warrior,  the  happy  lover,  and  the 
high-born  man. 

21st.  —  Letters  from  Bartley,  Forster,  about  horses,  Knowles,  and 
Dow.  Forster  tells  me  that  it  appears  cheapest  and  most  advisable  to 
drive  a  pair  of  horses  to  our  own  carriage.  No.  I  really  want  a 
means  of  moving  to  and  from  the  theater ;  but  till  I  see  that  I  may 
afford  it  without  taking  one  week's  salary  from  one  actor,  I  will  not 
do  it ;  if  I  were  playing  on  my  last  year's  engagement  I  would,  but 
with  this  hazard  on  my  hands  —  No. 

London,  September  30th.  —  When  I  am  actor  I  must  forget  that  I 
am  manager. 

Covent  Garden  Theater  opens.  Before  coming  down  I  prayed  from 
my  heart  to  Almighty  God,  imploring  His  mercy  upon  me  in  the  effort, 
which  this  day  begins,  and  in  what  so  much  of  good  or  evil  to  my  be- 
loved family  is  involved. 

Repeated  the  address  on  my  way,  and  entered  the  theater  with  an 
invocation  of  God's  blessing  on  me.  Rehearsed  the  play,1  and  attended 
to  the  various  claims  on  my  notice ;  received  many  letters  of  acknowl- 
edgment for  the  freedom  of  the  theater.  Took  every  occasion  of  re- 
peating the  address. 

It  consumed  some  time  to  arrange  my  dresses,  etc.,  and  when  this 
was  done  I  lay  down  in  bed.  Repeatedly  went  over  my  address,  and 
also  read  over  the  first  scene  of  Leontes.  Dressed,  and,  being  called 
to  the  address,  went  and  found  the  overture  only  just  began.  Much 
agitated,  the  thought  of  the  Rubicon-like  plunge  I  was  about  to  make 
and  my  home  came  upon  me  and  affected  me  for  a  moment. 

When  I  went  on  the  stage  the  enthusiasm  of  the  audience  was  very 
great ;  I  began  my  address  with  tolerable  composure,  but  in  the  last 
part  of  it  I  stopped  —  it  was  a  pause  of  about  half  a  minute  —  but  in 
agony  of  feeling  longer  than  time  can  measure  ;  I  recovered  myself, 
and  tripped  slightly  again  before  the  conclusion  of  the  address. 

Acted  Leontes  artist-like  but  not,  until  the  last  act,  very  effectively. 
Was  called  on  to  give  out,  which  I  did. 

October  2d.  —  I  acted  the  greater  part  of  Hamlet  in  my  best  man- 

1  Covent  Garden  opened  under  Macready's  management  with  A  Winter's  Tale 
and  A  Roland  for  an  Oliver.  Boxes,  5s.,  second  price,  2s.  6d. ;  pit,  2s.  6d.,  second 
price,  Is.  6c?. ;  lower  gallery,  Is.  6rf.,  second  price,  Is. ;  upper  gallery,  Is.,  second 
price,  6ef.  Second  price  at  the  end  of  the  third  act  of  plays,  and  the  second  of 
operas.  Stage  director,  Mr.  Willmott ;  musical  director,  Mr.  G.  H.  llodwell ; 
acting  manager,  Mr.  Bartley.  —  ED. 


416  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1837. 

ner  ;  and  the  pluy  was  put  beautifully  on  the  stage.  The  audience 
noticed  with  applause  several  of  the  improvements. 

Bt/i.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  arrived  a  little  before  ten,  ap- 
plied to  business,  reading,  and  answering  letters.  Rehearsed  "  The 
Bridal,"  and  took  much  pains  with  Mr.  Anderson.  The  Messrs.  Dilke 
called,  and  went  over  the  affair  of  the  "  Athenaeum  "  criticism,  speak- 
ing with  great  candor  and  good-nature,  endeavoring  to  palliate  the 
false  statement  of  "  The  Bridal,"  "  want  of  attraction,"  and  coming  to 
a  very  amicable,  agreeable  arrangement,  as  settled  yesterday,  respect- 
ing the  interchange  of  orders  for  advertisements.  Parted  very  good 
friends.  Superintended  the  rehearsal  of  two  acts  of  the  "  Novice," 
which  occupied  me  till  past  four,  took  all  pains  with  it.  Had  prom- 
ised Miss  Taylor  a  new  wig,  and  sent  for  Brewster  to  measure  her 
for  it,  which  he  did.  Received  a  note  from  Faraday  abjuring  his 
claim  to  knighthood,  thanking  me  for  the  card  of  admission,  but  re- 
turning it  on  account  of  the  "  Sir ; "  answered  him  and  sent  him  a 
corrected  card,  Sent  note  and  cards  of  admission  to  Milman,  his  wife, 
and  friend.1 

10th.  —  Settled  the  cast  of  Othello  with  Mr.  Bartley  for  the  Duke, 
as  an  example  to  the  other  actors,  and  to  show  the  public  that  there 
would  be  no  impediments  to  the  best  possible  disposition  of  the  char- 
acter in  a  play.  Attended  a  night  rehearsal  of  "  The  Novice,"  in 
which  all  did  their  best. 

\\th. — "Wrote  to  Bowes  about  the  French  dwarf  for  the  panto- 
mime ;  to  Harvey  himself  (il  Nano).  First  night  of  "  The  Novice." 

12th.  —  Searched  for  plays  and  afterpieces.  At  12  o'clock  went  out 
to  call  on  Listen  at  Brompton  ;  saw  and  sat  with  him  some  time.  He 
said  he  should  never  act  again,  and  I  certainly  think  he  never  will. 
He  seems  to  be  breaking  up.  I  left  him  with  an  expression,  that  he 
had  carte-Uanche  from  me.  Returning  to  the  theater,  took  the  book 
of  "  The  Novice,"  and  went  over  the  play  with  the  actors,  cutting  their 
parts  and  arranging  all  for  a  rehearsal  to-morrow. 

1  Gth.  — Very  much  dissatisfied  with  my  own  performance  of  the 
part  of  Othello,  very  much  indeed.  I  can  scarcely  tell  why  I  was  so 
heavy  and  cold,  except  that  the  fatigues  of  management  are  beginning 
to  tell  upon  my  acting.  The  Council  of  Forty  was  a  scene  of  beau- 
tiful effect,  one  of  the  most  real  things  I  ever  saw.  Talfourd  and 
Browning  came  into  my  room. 

17th. —  Signed  the  articles  of  Messrs.  Bennett,  Leffler,  and  Ander- 
son. 

19th. —  Saw  Bartley  and  asked  him  his  opinion  of  our  prospect ; 
he  said  that  he  began  to  be  afraid  of  it.  I  told  him,  as  I  afterwards 
repeated  to  Mr.  Robertson,  that  it  was  necessary  the  proprietors  should 
be  prepared  to  meet  the  approaching  crisis,  that  I  would  pay  to  the 
amount  of  £1,000,  restore  the  salary  I  had  received,  and  work  it  on 
for  the  actors  and  proprietors  as  long  as  I  could  without  any  remuner- 
ation. Acted  Lord  Townley. 

1  Under  Macreadv's  managements  free  admissions  were  sent  by  him  to  persons 
distinguished  in  scie'ncc,  art,  and  literature.  —  E». 


1837.  MANAGERIAL  WORK.  417 


^.  —  Rehearsed  Werner,  and  gave  Robertson  a  check  for  £300 
to  meet  the  week's  deficieuces.     Saw  Elton  and  talked  with  him  on 
business.     Bartley  brought  me  some   casts  for  this  and  next  week, 
which  I  looked  at,  but  felt  some  effort  must  be  made. 

2'2d.  —  Came  down  at  11  o'clock  to  meet  Robertson,  and  settle  my 
amount  of  loss,  and  give  him  in  the  full  amount  of  what  I  could  still 
permit  him  to  count  upon. 
My  banker's  account  stands  : 

£     s.  d. 
Paid  in  ..........     3,682     1   1 

Drawn       .........        2,734     9  4 

Balance  at  Ransom's     ....        947  11  9 

Already  paid  on  account  of  Covent  Garden 
Making  myself  liable  for  the  remainder  of  £1,000 
My  salary  to  be  returned        .... 

In  amount        .         .  .     —  •  --  466  f,  0 


Leaving  in  at  Ransom's  an  available  surplus  of         .        .     481  5  !) 

23d.  —  Called  on  Stanfield,  taking  Letitia  and  Catherine  with  me 
on  their  way  to  Shoolbred's.  Asked  Stanfield  to  paint  me  a  diorama 
for  the  pantomime.  He  almost  promised,  and  in  the  kindest  manner. 
He  is  a  fine  creature.  Went  to  theater,  where  of  course  business 
awaited  me.  Signed  engagement  with  Mr.  Howe. 

Business  with  Robertson  and  Bartley,  who  went  down  on  a  message 
to  the  Vice-Chamberlain's  Office,  and  brought  word  that  the  Queen 
would  come  to  the  theater  in  November.  Agreed  with  Mr.  Phelps. 

2ith.  —  C.  Buller  called,  and  stayed  with  me  some  time.  He  men- 
tioned his  disappointment  in  my  Othello  not  being  more  tender,  a 
criticism  that  I  will  not  forget.  Settled  with  Mr.  Phelps  to  do  Othello 
in  November. 

25th.  —  Called  on  Stanfield,  whom  I  found  what  he  is  said  to  be, 
and  must  be  thought  to  be,  the  very  spirit  of  kindly  feeling.  He  as- 
sented to  my  request  and  promised  to  make  all  arrangements  with  me. 
I  told  him  I  could  but  thank  him,  both  for  the  act  itself,  and  its  moral 
influence  on  the  undertaking  I  have  in  hand.  I  went  to  the  theater, 
reading  lago  by  the  way.  Attended  to  business,  saw  Sloman  and  Brad- 
well,  spoke  about  scenery  of  "  The  Royal  Oak,"  and  looked  at  the 
same.  Spoke  with  Mr.  Young  about  his  pantomime,  and  saw  some 
models  of  his  tricks.  Went  through  and  cut  and  arranged  the  whole 
of  the  play  of  "  The  Royal  Oak."  Acted  Melantius  very  fairly  — some 
parts  very  well.  Talfourd  came  into  my  room,  Serle,  etc.  My  council 
dissuaded  me  from  playing  Charles,  about  which  I  had  some  previous 
misgivings.  I  found  I  had  too  much  in  my  head,  and  deferred  it. 

November  Wth.  —  Bartley  came  to  tell  me  that  the  Queen  had  sent 
to  command  me  Friday  night.  I  acted  Hamlet  pretty  well.  ' 

\'2th.  —  Resolved  on  advertising  no  change  of  price  on  the  occasion 
of  the  Queen's  visit. 

27 


418  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  18,37. 

1 GM.  —  After  some  business  at  home,  went  to  the  theater,  cutting 
"  Marino  Faliero  "  by  the  way,  to  attend  to  more.  Found  plenty  to 
employ  me,  and  little  or  no  assistance  in  getting  through  it.  Occu- 
pied the  whole  day.  Scene-room,  wardrobe,  armory,  property-room, 
inspecting  scenes  on  stage  with  carpenter  for  Stanfield's  diorama. 
Orders  to  Bridgeman  for  refreshments  to-morrow.  Mr.  Martins,  Vice- 
Chamberlain,  called  to  say  that  the  farce  commanded  was  the  first  act 
of  "  Fra  Diavolo,"  and  that  "  all  was  right "  about  the  matter  lately 
agitated. 

Contriving  with  Sloman  and  Marshall  the  effect  of  the  shadows 
in  the  waterfall,  which  at  last  we  made  out,  or  I  believe  I  made  out 
to  them.  Robertson  called,  and  I  gave  him  the  order  for  the  wine  for 
to-morrow  night.  Went  over  the  whole  of  "Joan  of  Arc"  and  cut 
it  entirely,  besides  writing  several  notes.  A  hard  day's  work. 

17th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  and  rehearsed  the  play  of"  Werner," 
in  the  hope  of  making  Mr.  G.  Bennett  and  some  others  a  little  more 
accurate.  My  morning  was  engrossed  by  the  needful  care  and  ar- 
rangements for  the  evening,  preparing  for  the  Queen's  reception,  the 
reception  of  our  own  visitors,  etc.,  my  dresses  for  the  night,  etc.  Re- 
ceived a  multitude  of  notes,  application  for  admission  behind  the 
scenes,  which  I  was  obliged  to  answer  as  I  could. 

Martins,  the  Vice-Chamberlain,  was  most  careful  in  scrutinizing  all 
particulars  as  to  the  Queen's  box,  rooms,  etc.  I  was  quite  worn  out 
and  lay  down,  desiring  no  more  notes  to  be  given  me  till  the  next 
morning.  There  was  a  great  tumult  arising  from  the  overcrowded 
state  of  the  pit,  a  great  number  were  lifted  over  the  boxes  in  a  faint- 
ing and  exhausted  state.  Mr.  Bartley  had  leave  from  the  Queen  to 
address  the  audience,  which  he  did,  tendering  the  price  of  admission 
to  those  who,  not  having  room  might  wish  to  return.  When  order  was 
restored,  the  play  proceeded.  I  acted,  not  to  please  myself ;  1  could 
not  recover  my  self-possession.  The  Queen  sent  to  say  she  expected 
to  see  me,  as  she  retired.  I  dressed  myself  in  full  dress  and  went 
with  Bartley  to  wait  on  her  as  she  retired.  The  ladies  in  waiting  and 
the  officers,  etc.,  passed  through  the  room,  and  at  length  the  Queen  — 
a  very  pretty  little  girl  —  came.  Lord  Conyngham  told  her  who  I 
was.  She  smiled  and  bowed,  and  said  :  "  I  am  very  much  obliged  to 
you."  Pointed  me  out  to  the  Duchess  of  Kent,  and  bowed  repeatedly 
to  me.  I  went  home  with  Miss  Martineau  and  Catherine,  very,  very 
tired. 

Sunday,  November  19th.  —  Looked  over  the  play  of"  Coriolanus," 
having  found  that  I  cannot  produce  the  play  of  "  Marino  Faliero  " 
before  Christmas. 

Went  to  Talfourd's  —  met  Dickens,  Forster,  Ainsworth,  Keating, 
Hill,  etc.  Told  Dickens  of  darling  Nina,  when  she  was  told  that  the 
Queen  had  spoken  to  me  on  Friday  night,  having  asked  me  if  I  told 
her  "  to  be  kind  to  the  poor."  The  dear  child  !  Just  reached  home 
as  Letitia  was  reading  prayers  to  the  servants. 

"2Sth.  —  Rehearsed  Luke,  and  afterwards  superintended  "  Joan  of 


1837.  GLOOMY  PROSPECTS.  419 

Arc."  Settled  all  the  dresses.  Without  any  interval  of  repose  for 
mind  or  body  began  to  dress  for  Luke,  a  character  I  have  not  read 
over,  and  which  I  have,  comparing  what  I  have  done  with  what  I 
could  do,  completely  sacrificed  to  my  managerial  interests.  Acted  by 
chance  ;  the  character  made  some  impression  and  I  was  called  for,  but 
undressed  immediately  in  order  to  superintend  the  performance  of 
"Joan  of  Arc."  "Joan  of  Arc"  succeeded  entirely. 

December  2d.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  sat  for  some  time  re- 
volving the  hopeless  condition  of  the  concern.  I  strove  to  calm  my 
spirits,  and  devise  the  best  means  of  meeting  and  winding  up  the 
losses  that  appear  hanging  over  me.  I  could  not  rally,  my  heart  had 
quite  sank  within  me. 

Saw  the  new  opera l  which,  silly  as  the  words  are,  and  overweighed 
as  it  is  with  music,  was  quite  successful.  Received  Talfourd's  fourth 
edition  of  "  Ion,"  with  a  preface  exhorting  people  to  support  Covent 
Garden. 

9<A.  —  Went  to  the  theater ;  at  the  box  office  saw  Robertson  and 
Bartley,  who  both  had  very  long  faces,  and  seemed  intent  on  some 
prophetic  moans  ;  but  I  only  put  on  a  more  cheerful  face  when  Rob- 
ertson told  me,  despite  the  receipt  of  the  week,  which  has  not  been 
bad,  that  he  must  draw  upon  me. 

14th.  —  At  the  theater,  attended  to  business  ;  watched  part  of  the 
pantomime,  and  made  some  little  alterations  in  the  dialogue.  Received 
the  estimate  of  the  gas  alteration,  which,  though  very  expensive,  I  or- 
dered, in  justice,  as  t  thought,  to  Stanfield  and  the  work  he  is  engaged 
on  for  me.  Saw  Stanfield,  and  told  him  I  would  have  it,  and  accord- 
ingly ordered  it. 

16th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  attended  to  business,  looking 
out  for  plays,  etc.,  after  Christmas.  Had  the  account  from  Robertson, 
which  I  looked  over,  and  found  myself  about  £2,200  to  make  up,  to 
bring  in  even  balance  ;  profit  therefore  is  beyond  all  hope  ! 

Sunday,  December  17th.  —  Read  over  "Macbeth,"  in  which  I  find 
myself  much  abroad.  The  cares  of  management  are  distracting  me 
from  ruminating  upon  my  art.  My  spirits  very  low,  and  my  mind  oc- 
cupied with  pondering  on  the  sacrifice  I  have  made,  and  the  false  step 
I  have  taken  in  embarking  my  property  on  this  desperate  enterprise. 
Am  I  not  punished  enough  ?  Read  prayers  to  the  family. 

ISth.  —  Mr.  Martins,  the  Vice-Chamberlain,  called  to  report  to  me 
the  Queen's  intention  of  visiting  the  theater  this  evening.  Sent  for 
Bartley,  Bradwell,  etc.,  and  gave  directions  for  her  reception.  Sent 
letters  to  the  papers  informing  them  of  the  circumstance.  Lay  down 
in  bed,  and  tried  to  think  of  "  Macbeth,"  but  it  would  not  rest  in 
my  mind. 

Acted  Macbeth  tolerably  well,  particularly  the  latter  part  of  the 
play. 

23d.  —  Robertson  drew  on  me  for  another  £100.  I  am  now  at  the 
verge  of  my  managerial  fate ;  whether  I  am  to  sink  disastrously,  or  to 

1  Amelle ;  or,  the  Love  Test.  —  ED. 


420  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1838. 

spring  aloft  to  better  fortune  is  on  the  event  of  little  more  than  one 
hour.  God  will  ordain  my  course  for  the  best.  Would  1  could  pre- 
vent my  ignorant  heart  from  fretting  and  murmuring  at  the  adverse, 
circumstances  that  seem  to  gather  round  me  !  I  trust  I  shall  bear  my- 
self through  the  worst  of  them  in  a  manly  and  dignified  manner. 

26M.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  all  was  in  a  state  of  anxious 
preparation  for  "  the  great  work,"  the  pantomime.  Rehearsed  Lord 
Hastings  ;  watched  the  rehearsal  of  the  pantomime,1  which  I  could  not 
leave,  for  had  I  gone  to  my  own  room,  I  could  not  have  given  my  at- 
tention to  my  own  character,  my  thoughts  would  have  been  with  the 
success  of  the  pantomime.  Rehearsing  on  the  stage,  which  was  not 
over  till  ten  minutes  past  five.  Dickens,  Cattermole,  and  Forster  sat 
it  through.  Acted  Lord  Hastings  pretty  well,  taking  the  circumstances 
into  consideration.  The  pantomime  succeeded  completely,  for  which  I 
feel  most  gratified. 

1838. 

[Sentences  prefixed  to  diary  :] 

"  Excellence  is  never  granted  to  man  but  as  the  reward  of  labor." 

"  Nothing  hinders  the  constant  agreement  of  people  who  live  together  but  mere 
vanity  ;  a  secret  insisting  upon  what  they  think  their  dignity  or  merit,  and  inward 
expectation  of  such  an  over-measure  of  deference  and  regard  as  answers  to  their 
own  extravagant  false  scale,  and  which  nobody  can  pay,«because  none  but  them- 
selves can  tell  readily  to  what  pitch  it  amounts."  —  Pope. 

London,  January  1st.  —  On  my  entrance  into  another  year  I  cannot 
avoid  seeing  how  little  of  life  is  left  me  in  this  world,  and  that  contem- 
plation brings  with  it  sorrow  and  self-reproach  and  vain  repinings  time 
after  time  neglected  and  abused.  Whirled  along  as  I  now  am  in  the 
current  of  harassing  and  irritating  business  I  have  little  opportunity 
for  reflection,  and  am  strongly  impressed  with  the  necessity  of  discon- 
tinuing, with  the  close  of  the  present  theatrical  season,  the  extraor- 
dinary duties  I  have  taken  upon  myself  for  my  own  mind's  sake  and 
for  the  sake  of  my  blessed  and  beloved  children,  to  whom  I  am  anxious 
to  devote  my  best  energies  of  thought  and  labor.  May  God  of  His 
infinite  mercy  bless  tliem  and  their  dear  mother  with  his  choicest  bless- 
ings, now  and  for  evermore.  Amen. 

4tk.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  went  on  a  first  rehearsal  of 
"  King  Lear."  My  opinion  of  the  introduction  of  the  Fool  is  that, 

1  Harlequin  and  Peeping  Tom  of  Coventry.  It  was  illustrated  by  a  moving  dio- 
rama, painted  by  Stanfielil,  of  scenes  from  the  north  of  Italy,  the  Alps,  Germany, 
and  France,  including  the  Col  du  Eon  Hummc  by  moonlight,  and  concluding  with 
the  British  Channel.  In  the  play-bills  Macready  expressed  his  obligations  to  Stan- 
lield,  stating  that  "  at  a  sacrifice,  and  in  a  manner  the  most  liberal  and  kind,  he 
had  for  a  short  period  laid  aside  his  easel,  to  present  the  manager  with  his  last 
work,  in  a  department  of  art  so  conspicuously  advanced  by  him,  as  a  mark  of  the 
interest  he  feels  in  the  success  of  the  cause  which  this  theater  labors  to  support." 
—  En. 


1838.  STANFIELD'S  FRIENDLY  CONDUCT.  421 

like  many  such  terrible  contrasts  in  poetry  and  painting,  in  acting 
representation  it  will  fail  of  effect ;  it  will  either  weary  and  annoy  or 
distract  the  spectator.  I  have  no  hope  of  it,  and  think  that  at  the  last 
we  shall  be  obliged  to  dispense  with  it.  Settled  the  scenery,  which 
will  be  very  striking. 

5th.  —  Speaking  to  Willmott  and  Bartley  about  the  part  of  the 
Fool  in  "  Lear,"  and  mentioning  my  apprehensions  that,  with  Mead- 
ows, we  should  be  obliged  to  omit  the  part,  I  described  the  sort  of 
fragile,  hectic,  beautiful-faced  boy  that  he  should  be,  and  stated  my 
belief  that  it  never  could  be  acted.  Bartley  observed  that  a  woman 
should  play  it.  I  caught  at  the  idea,  and  instantly  exclaimed  Miss  P. 
Horton  is  the  very  person.  I  was  delighted  at  the  thought. 

Bulwer  called  and  talked  with  me  about  the  play.  I  went  over  the 
last  act  with  him.  He  told  me  of  the  works  upon  his  hands  ;  his 
industry  is  astonishing ! 

Consulted  Robertson  and  Bartley  about  Starifield ;  mentioned  my 
purpose  of  sending  him  £250  and  a  present  of  plate,  value  £50. 

9M.  —  Went  to  the  theater  ;  wrote  a  letter  to  Stanfield,  inclosing  a 
check  for  £300. 

10th. —  Called  at  the  Garrick  Club  to  look  at  some  costumes  for 
"  Lear ; "  saw  Thackeray,  who  promised  to  send  me  a  book  on  the 
subject.  Coming  home  read  Talfourd's  tragedy  of  the  "  Athenian 
Captive."  This  was  a  great  disappointment  to  me  ;  no  one  could 
believe  it  to  be  by  the  author  of  "  Ion  ; "  it  has  nothing  of  it  but  its 
faults  of  style  exaggerated.  How  am  I  to  tell  Talfourd  this,  I  scarcely 
know.  I  fear  the  effect  of  such  a  communication,  but  I  will  do  "  all 
in  honor." 

Letter  from  Stann'eld  refusing  to  accept  the  £300  I  sent  him, 
returning  me  the  check  I  had  sent  him,  and  asking  for  £150.  This 
is  one  of  the  few  noble  instances  of  disinterested  friendly  conduct  I 
have  met  with  in  my  life.  God  bless  him. 

loth.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  attended  to  business;  was 
detained  long  by  Mr.  Gye,  who  wanted  to  argue  with  me  that  I  ought 
to  retain  his  light  through  the  run  of  the  pantomime,  which  he  charged 
at  £1  10s.  per  night,  with  no  stipulation  or  statement  as  to  the  expense. 

ISth.  —  Sent  Bartley  to  the  Jerusalem  Coffee  House  to  see  the 
newly-invented  stoves,  which  I  thought  of  placing  through  the  theater. 
Settled  many  of  the  dresses  for  "  King  Lear  "  with  Head.  Thought 
on  "Macbeth "  and  rested.  My  poor  dresser,  Henry,  was  conveyed 
away  ill ;  I  apprehend  having  burst  a  blood-vessel.  I  sent  him  to 
Earle,  who,  being  ill,  sent  him  to  another  surgeon  ;  he  was  prescribed 
for,  and  sent  home. 

20^.  —  Stanfield,  Kenney,  Wallace,  Cattermole,  Forster,  Brown- 
ing, and  Robertson,  dined  with  us ;  we  spent  a  cheerful  afternoon. 
Before  we  went  up-stairs  I  expressed  to  Stanfield  how  deeply  I  was 
indebted  for  the  noble  act  of  friendship  he  had  shown  me,  and  that  I 
had  a  slight  tribute  to  offer  him,  on  which  the  record  of  my  gratitude 
was  engraved,  though  not  so  deeply  as  on  the  more  perishable  sub- 


422  UACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1S38. 

stance  of  my  heart.     I  gave  him  the  salver,  which  was  admired,  and 
the  inscription  as  altered  by  Wallace,  was  read. 

To  CHARLES  STANFIELD,  ESQ.,  R.  A. 

In  remembrance  of  the  kindness  and  zeal  with  which  he  brought  the  magic  of 
his  pencil  and  the  celebrity  of  his  name  to  the  aid  of  a  discouraged  and  declining 
sister  art,  this  humble  tribute  is  presented  by  his  grateful  friend, 

WILLIAM  CHARLES  MACREADT. 

January  20th,  1838. 


.  —  I  gave  up  the  whole  morning  to  the  rehearsal  and  superin- 
tendence of  "King  Lear,"  which,  to  a  classic  or  Shakespearian  eye, 
looks  very  striking,  and,  as  I  think,  very  harmoniously  arranged.  Sir 
H.  J.  Bridges  called  and  wished  me  to  settle  with  him  the  time  of  a 
visit  to  him  in  Radnorshire.  Gave  to  Messrs.  Phelps  and  Gaspey 
private  boxes  for  the  evening,  and  sent  one  to  dear  Miss  Martineau. 
Arranged  business  with  Marshall,  Head,  and  Griffith  ;  also  with  Jones, 
the  tailor. 

*2ijt/t.  —  Went  to  the  theater.  Occupied  all  the  morning  with  my 
rehearsal  of  "  King  Lear."  Lay  down  and  tried  to  think  of  Lear. 
Was  very  nervous  in  the  morning,  but  prepared  for  the  play  much 
more  collected  than  I  had  been.  I  scarcely  know  how  I  acted  the 
part.  I  did  not  satisfy  myself.  We  shall  see  the  papers  to-morrow, 
which  I  suppose  will  set  us  right  on  the  question.  Was  occasionally 
pretty  good,  but  I  was  not  what  I  wished  to  have  been. 

Bartley,  Willmott,  and  Robertson  came  into  my  room  and  wished 
me  to  do  the  play  twice  next  week,  but  I  am  myself  all  abroad  upon 
the  nature  of  its  success. 

2Gth.  —  Was  awake  very  early,  oppressed  and  confused  by  a  sense 
of  ill  coming  on  me,  through  the  complete  failure,  as  I  conceived  it, 
of  last  night's  performance.  The  pain  of  suspense,  until  I  read  the 
papers,  was  never  more  severely  felt  by  me.  They  at  length  arrived, 
and  being  far  more  favorable  than  my  anticipation,  my  serenity  in 
some  degree  returned,  but  my  mind  and  body  were  both  weighed 
down  by  fatigue. 

Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  found  the  rehearsal  of  the  "  Wonder  " 
in  progress  ;  went  on  with  it.  The  impression  created  by  "  King 
Lear  "  seemed  to  be  wide  and  strong. 

27th.  —  Acted  Don  Felix  with  spirit  and  self-possession,  but  had 
not  had  the  time  to  present,  as  I  had  wished,  a  finished  performance  of 
tin-  part.  Was  called  for  by  the  audience  and  very  warmly  received. 
Spoke  with  Mrs.  Glover  and  Miss  Faucit  after  the  play. 

Letters  from  Lady  Blessington,  introducing  Lady  C.  B  -  ,  and 
from  Bulwer  with  alterations. 

February  1st.  —  Lady  -  ,  Lord  -  's  daughter,  called,  wishing 
to  go  on  the  stage  ;  she  read  before  me.  I  dissuaded  her  from  the 
attempt.  She  gave  me  part  of  her  history. 

3d.  —  Received  a  letter  from  Bulwer  with  the  title  of  "  The  Ad- 
venturer," 1  but  when  I  saw  it  written  down,  I  would  not  consent  to 
it. 

1  Afterwards  named  The  Lady  of  Lyons.  —  ED. 


1838.  "LADY  OF  LYONS."  423 

Read,  and  with  great  attention,  the  new  play.  Told  a  story  to  the 
children.  Read  again  my  part  of  Claude  Melnotte.  Jones,  the  tailor, 
called  about  my  dress. 

9^.  —  Acted  King  Lear  pretty  well;  took  pains,  but  was  not  equal 
to  myself  on  Wednesday.  Bulwer  came  into  my  room  at  the  end 
of  the  second  act.  I  sent  him  round  to  a  private  box,  and  he  re- 
turned to  me  at  the  end  of  the  play.  Expressed  himself  in  very  warm 
terms  upon  what  he  styled  my  "  gigantic  "  performance,  talked  about 
the  play,  with  the  arrangements  for  which  he  seemed  well  satisfied. 
In  speaking  of  the  Ballot  question,  he  said  he  would  never  support 
ministers  again  if  they  did  not  leave  it  an  open  question.  Was  called 
for,  and  very  cordially  received  by  the  audience. 

liJth.  —  Went  to  an  early  rehearsal  of  the  new  play. 

Acted  Claude  Melnotte  in  Bulwer's  play  pretty  well ;  the  audience 
felt  it  very  much,  and  were  carried  away  by  it ;  the  play  in  the  acting 
was  completely  successful.  Was  called  for,  and  leading  on  Miss 
Faucit,  was  well  received  ;  gave  out  the  play.  Forster,  Kenney,  Bart- 
ley,  etc.,  came  into  my  room. 

17th.  —  Read  over  part  of  the  play,  being  anxious  to  play  well,  as 
I  knew  Bulwer  would  be  there.  Acted  pretty  well ;  was  called  for, 
led  on  Miss  Faucit,  and  was  very  cordially  received.  Bulwer  came 
into  my  room,  and  expressed  himself  much  pleased  ;  offered  to  give 
his  name,  whenever  I  might  wish  it. 

18th.  —  Settled  with  Marshall  the  scenery  for  "  Coriolanus,"  which 
I  think  will  be  very  striking.  Wrote  to  Bulwer,  suggesting  his  pro- 
posal of  last  night,  the  announcement  of  his  name.  Bulwer  called, 
and,  giving  me  full  power  to  act  on  my  own  judgment,  seemed  not  to 
wish  his  name  to  be  published  until  further  experiment  of  the  play's 
success  had  been  made  —  until  Thursday.  1  resolved  to  wait  the 
whole  week. 

20th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  spoke  with  Marshall  about 
the  scenery  of  '"  Coriolanus,"  and  rehearsed  the  play  of  "  Julius  Caesar." 
Rintoul  called  to  speak  to  me  about  the  note  I  sent  him  on  the  "  Spec- 
tator's "  paragraph  ;  he  said  that  nothing  unkind  was  intended. 

21st. —  Bulwer  called;  I  was  preparing  to  go  on  the  stage,  and 
mentioned  his  uncertainty  about  the  policy  of  publishing  his  name.  I 
told  him  of  the  improvement  in  the  prospect  of  the  house,  and  we 
agreed  that  we  would  wait  and  see  the  progress  of  the  night.  I  acted 
well.  I  was  loudly  called  for,  and  said  : 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  —  After  the  very  kind  reception  with 
which  you  have  honored  this  play,  I  hope  I  may  be  permitted  to  say 
a  few  words  in  regard  to  some  objections  which  have  been  urged,  and 
from  opinions  I  am  disposed  to  respect,  upon  passages  that  are  said  to 
be  political.  I  beg  to  assure  you  that,  upon  the  strictest  investigation, 
there  are  no  political  allusions  that  do  not  grow  out  of  the  piece,  and 
are  necessarily  conducive  to  the  working  of  the  story.  Had  it  been 
otherwise  I  am  certain  the  author,  whom  I  have  the  honor  to  know, 
would  never  have  descended  to  such  means  to  entrap  your  applause ; 


i:M  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1838. 

the  licenser  would  not  have  permitted  it,  nor  I  believe  will  you  think 
that  I  should  have  had  the  had  taste  to  encourage  it.  If  I  may  n 
ciate  such  a  name  with  an  existing  author's,  our  divine  Shakespeare  is 
liable  to  similar  imputations,  and  I  trust  I  shall  receive  credit  for  the 
assertion  of  the  principle  upon  which  I  conduct  this  theater  —  that  art 
and  literature  have  no  politics." 

Saw  Bulwer,  who  left  with  me  carte-Uanche  as  to  the  time  and  mode 
of  announcing  his  name.1 

23d.  —  Gave  up  the  whole  morning  to  the  preparation  of  "  Corio- 
lanus."  Wrote  a  note  to  Cox. and  Greenwood  about  Edward's  con- 
ditional unattached  majority. 

2Sth.  —  Felt  so  very  unwell,  with  weakness  at  my  chest,  cold 
throughout  me,  and  a  mind  so  wearied,  that  I  longed  to  think  of  noth- 
ing; so  beaten  down,  body  and  mind,  I  could  not  rise  for  the  re- 
hearsal of  "  Coriolanus."  Looked  at  the  newspapers.  Griffiths  called 
about  the  sandals  and  helmets  of  "  Coriolanus."  Sat  down  and  read 
over,  marking  the  interlude  of  Egerton  Webbe.  Altered  the  bill. 
Noted  down  the  persons  to  be  employed  in  "  Coriolanus."  Went  to 
dine  with  Catherine  to  Horace  Twiss ;  met  Herries,  Sir  William 
Abdy,  Sir  George  Rose,  Fanny  Twiss  —  with  whom  I  passed  the 
whole  day. 

March  1st.  —  Went  to  the  theater.  Rehearsed  three  acts  of  "Corio- 
lanus." Cattermole  called  about  a  dress,  and  private  box. 

A  lady  called,  introduced  by  Mr.  Dowling,  as  a  candidate  for  the 
stage.  I  did  my  best  to  dissuade  her.  A  violent  love-letter  from 
some  person  who  had  seen  me  in  Melnotte.  Lay  down  in  bed  a  little 
after  four,  quite  over-spent  and  worn  down  by  fatigue  and  illness. 
Acted  Claude  Melnotte  tolerably  well;  was  called  for  and  well  re- 
ceived. 

2d.  —  Went  to  the  theater;  where  I  gave  my  best  attention  to  the 
rehearsal  of  "  Coriolanus."  Received  Brockedon,  who  called  on  me 
with  a  message  and  note  from  Eastlake ;  he,  Mr.  E.,  had  been  rated 
for  sending  back  his  admission  card  to  me,  and  fancied  that  I  had 
taken  umbrage  at  it.  I  assured  Brockedon  that  I  had  not,  and  re- 
ceived the  notes  and  message  from  him  as  courteously  as  I  could. 
Settled  much  important  business  with  Willmott  (Bartley  came  to  tell 
me  that  the  boxes  were  well  taken  for  to-morrow,  L.  D.),  with  Head 
and  Marshall. 

Received  notes,  one  of  gratitude  for  pleasure  received  at  the  theater 
from  Mrs.  Best.  After  dinner,  and  a  little  romp  with  my  darling 
children,  and  a  story  to  them,  I  answered  Mr.  Eastlake,  Mrs.  Best, 
and  wrote  a  note  to  Egerton  Webbe.  I  then  continued  steadily  the 
arrangement  of  the  dresses  and  properties  of  the  different  persons  in 
"  Coriolanus,"  which  kept  me  up  to  a  late  hour. 

'3d.  —  Acted  Claude  Melnotte  very  well.     The  Queen  came  in  just 

1  The  name  of  Edward  Lytton  Bulwer  was  first  announced  as  that  of  the  author 
of  The  Lady  of  Lyons  in  the  Covent  Garden  play-bill  of  Saturday,  24th  February, 
1838. —  ED. 


1838.  "'CORIOLANUS."  425 

after  the  beginning  of  the  last  act ;  was  loudly  called  for  and  very 
warmly  received.  Lord  Conyngham  wished  to  see  myself  or .  some 
one.  Sent  Bartley  to  him.  It  was  to  say  that  the  Queen  would  come 
to  see  the  whole  play  on  Tuesday,  and  wished  Bulwer  to  know  it. 

5th.  —  Went  to  theater  to  rehearse  Coriolanus :  the  number  of  su- 
pernumeraries so  took  up  the  morning  that  we  could  not  advance  be- 
yond the  second  act  of  "  Coriolanus."  Received  a  very  courteous 
note  from  Miss  Rolls ;  attended  to  business  with  Marshall,  Head, 
Griffiths,  etc. 

8th.  —  Bulwer  came  into  my  room  and  seemed  very  much  delighted 
with  the  success  of  his  play.  He  told  me  of  a  message  he  had  re- 
ceived from  the  Queen,  full  of  courteous  expressions  to  him  about  the 
j)1  iv,  and  wishing  him  to  communicate  to  me  how  very  much  she  was 
Delighted  with  my  acting.  He  told  me  that  he  had  said  little  about 
ipyself  in  the  preface,  because  he  had  said  a  good  deal  before,  and  he 
thought  it  would  be  injurious.  I  told  him  he  had  said  so  much  before 
that  he  had  left  nothing  to  say,  that  he  had  bound  me  to  his  chariot- 
wheels.  He  added  that  he  felt  sure  Talfourd's  play  would  succeed.  I 
did  not  encourage  the  notion,  and  thereupon  he  said,  though  he  had 
no  wish  to  write  for  the  stage,  yet  if  I  needed  him,  I  had  only  to  point 
out  how  he  could  assist  my  views.  Brought  home  my  helmet  to  ac- 
custom myself  to  it. 

12th.  —  The  house  was  very  indifferent;  this  was  a  blow.  The 
reputation  of  this  theater  for  producing  Shakespearian  plays  ought  to 
have  commanded  more  attention.  I  give  up  all  hope  !  Lay  down  to 
rest.  Acted  parts  of  Coriolanus  well ;  parts,  not  to  satisfy  myself. 
Jerdan,  Dickens,  Bulwer,  Blanchard,  Forster,  came  into  my  room. 

13th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  attended  to  business  there.  Saw  Will- 
mott,  Robertson.  Looked  over  E.  Webbe's  opera.  Fox  called  and 
expressed  himself  delighted  at  the  performance  of  last  night. 

E.  Webbe  came,  and  brought  with  him  the  scores  of  his  opera,  about 
which  I  shall  set  the  people  immediately. 

14th.  —  Received  a  letter  from  Talfourd,  informing  me  of  his  dis- 
patch of  the  play.  Looked  at  the  newspapers. 

When  I  went  into  my  study,  revolved  the  various  arguments  for 
and  against  the  plays,  thought  upon  my  benefit,  decided  upon  Lord 
Byron's  "  Foscari,"  and  to  produce  E.  Webbe's  opera  after  it.  Read 
the  voyages  of  Sindbad  in  the  "  Arabian  Nights,"  with  reference  to 
the  Easter  piece.  Read  Mr.  Young's  Easter  piece,  and  found  a  difficulty 
in  coming  to  any  decision  upon  it.  Wilson  called,  and  I  wrote  to  Mr. 
Leigh  with  the  tragedy  of  "  Cromwell,"  and  also  wrote  a  note  to  E. 
Webbe.  Z.  Troughton  called,  whom  I  was  glad  to  see  ;  I  told  him  I 
had  not  read  his  tragedy.  Wrote  to  Talfourd  in  answer  to  his  letter. 
Wilson  called  again,  having  found  Mrs.  Gore's  play.  Received  a  note 
from  Mrs.  Talfourd.  Not  well  after  dinner.  I  am  indeed  worn  out ; 
the  want  of  air,  exercise,  and  repose  is  working  on  my  system.  Re- 
ceived a  very  pleasing  letter  from  dearest  Edward,  which  affected  me, 
but  with  happy  emotion.  Also  a  note,  proposing  an  opera  from 


4-26  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1838. 

Haynes  Buy  ley.  Went  to  Miss  Martineau's  party.  Met  there  Mr. 
Smith  of  Norwich,  whom  I  liked,  Robertson  of  the  "  Westminster  Re- 
view," Chorley,1  Misses  Berry,  friends  and  biographers  of  H.  Wai  pole, 
Browning,  Eastlake,  Mrs.  Read,  Lady  Charlotte  Lindsay.  Passed  an 
agreeable  evening,  but  was  much  fatigued. 

15th.  —  Poole  called  to  say  that  he  wished  to  have  written  on  Mon- 
day night  to  express  his  delight  at  the  performance  of  "  Coriolanus," 
which  was  the  most  perfect  thing  he  had  ever  seen. 

IGth.  —  Read  over  "  Foscari"  in  bed,  and  looked  at  the  papers.  A 
letter  from  Talfourd  with  the  cast  of  "  The  Athenian  Captive." 

Attended  to  business  about  the  play  of  "  Foscari "  with  Marshall ; 
the  Easter  piece  with  Serle. 

Read  part  of  Talfourd's  play.  Very  low  spirits  in  contemplating 
the  state  of  things.  A  cheerful  dinner-party,  Jonathan  Birch,  John 
Morice,  Misses  Morice,  Warrens,  Lieutenant  Wright,  Kennedy,  George 
Bucknill,  Mason,  Archdeacon  Robinson,  sister  and  niece. 

1 1th.  —  Spoke  with  Young  about  his  Easter  piece,  and  suggested 
£35  as  his  payment,  to  which  he  agreed. 

A  friend  of  Talfourd's  called  to  ask  me  to  read  his  version  of  Schil- 
ler's "  Don  Carlos,"  which  I  promised  to  do  when  the  business  of  the 
theater  permitted  me. 

Read  through  Talfourd's  play,  which,  though  not  of  a  high  character, 
is  certainly  improved.  Blanchard  called  to  speak  with  me  about  a 
play  written  by  Miss  Landon,  to  be  submitted  hereafter.  Tried  to 
think  on  the  matter.  Very  much  tired.  Acted  Claude  Melnotte 
in'uldlingly. 

21  st  —  Went  to  the  theater,  reading  the  "  Foscari"  upon  my  way. 
Spoke  to  Marshall  on  business,  and  made  the  copy  of  my  benefit  ad- 
vertisement. Wrote  to  Wallace  with  a  box,  and  to  Bulwer  with  a  box 
for  his  mother,  and  a  check  for  £210.  A  dinner-party  of  Bulwer, 
Sheil,  A.  Buller,  Fonblanque,  F.  Reynolds,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carter,  Ellis, 
Dickens,  Browning,  Forster,  Miss  Martineau,  Mrs.  Kitchener,  Hen- 
rietta Skerrett.  We  had  a  cheerful  day. 

22rf.  —  I  rehearsed  the  play  of  the  "  Foscari,"  and  afterwards  listened 
to  some  music  of  the  opera  I  had  read  two  days  since.  I  was  much 
pleased  with  it.  Spoke  with  Marshall  on  business,  and  settled  with 
him  the  scenes  of  the  "  Foscari."  Gave  him  a  card  to  Etty,  whom  I 
wished  him  to  consult  on  the  apartments  of  the  Ducal  Palace  at 
Venice.  Spoke  with  Mr.  Griesbach  about  his  opera;  settled  the  term- 
with  him  of  £o  per  night,  and  arranged  the  night  of  the  performance 
for  the  7th  proximo. 

Received  a  letter  from  Bulwer  returning  me  the  check  for  £210, 
a  letter  which  is  a  recompense  for  much  ill-requited  labor  and  un- 
pitied  suffering ;  it  is  an  honor  to  him,  and  a  subject  of  pride  to  my- 
self. 

1  Charley's  Diary  (Memoirs,  2  vols.,  London,  1873),  vol.  i.  p.  276,  15th  March, 
1838,  has :  "  Macready  at  a  soiree  at  Mis»  Manineau's  the  Misses  Berry  besetting 
him  about  the  character  of  Pauline  in  The  Lady  of  Lyons.  —  ED. 


1838.  REHEARSING  "  FOSCARI."  427 

Saw  the  newspapers.  "Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  rehearsed  "  The 
Two  Foscari."  Went  to  the  box-office  about  the  places  for  my  bene- 
fit ;  gave  directions  that  no  preference  should  be  given  to  any  parties, 
and  that  the  prices  of  the  private  boxes  should  remain  as  on  ordinary 
nights. 

26th.  —  Mr.  — . — ,  of  the  —  Regiment,  called,  on  an  introduction 
from  Talfourd,  and  after  doing  my  utmost  to  dissuade  him  from  such 
an  act  of  folly  as  following  the  stage  (the  second  visitor  on  the  same 
errand  I  have  had  to-day),  I  promised  to  write  to  Knowles  for  him. 
Read  over  "  Coriolanus,"  feeling  myself  quite  unequal  to  its  perform- 
ance. Acted  it  feebly.  Was  called  for  and  warmly  received  by  the 
audience. 

27th.  —  Kind  note  from  Etty  about  the  apartments  of  the  Ducal 
Palace,  and  lamenting  his  inability  to  accept  our  invitation.  Went  to 
the  theater,  where  I  spoke  with  Marshall  on  the  scenes.  Rehearsed 
Foscari. 

Acted  Claude  Melnotte  pretty  well ;  was  called  for  and  warmly  re- 
ceived by  the  audience.  Some  person,  a  lady,  I  fancy,  sent  me  a 
laurel  chaplet ;  I  do  not  see  the  exact  meaning  of  the  anonymous 
affair. 

Faraday  sent  me  a  note  with  his  pamphlet  on  electricity. 

28th.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Crawford,  three  Misses  Fitzgerald,  Bayley, 
Cattermole,  O'Hanlon,  Hayward,  Dowling,  Calcraft,  Brockedon,  dined 
with  us. 

29th.  —  Entered  some  arrears  of  record,  and  went  to  the  theater, 
where  I  gave  a  quiet  rehearsal  to  Foscari.  Received  a  very  kind  mes- 
sage from  Mr.  Lowndes,  protesting  against  my  surrender  of  my  bene- 
fit to  the  stock  of  the  theater,  and  manifesting  an  appreciation  of  my 
labors  that  was  very  gratifying  to  me. 

3Qlh.  —  Paid  Mr.  Maddox  a  quarter's  rent  for  the  house  £95  11s. 
Went  to  theater.  Rehearsed  Foscari  and  the  new  opera.  Spoke  to 
Marshall  on  the  subject  of  the  scenery,  and  on  other  business. 

April  oth.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  rehearsed  Foscari. 

J.  Short  called,  and  chatted  with  me  for  a  few  minutes ;  he  was  in 
great  spirits,  and  his  presence  gave  me  a  momentary  stimulus.  It  is 
delightful  to  call  back  our  school  days  and  school  thoughts  again  in 
this  accursed  world  of  treachery,  hypocrisy,  and  cant.  Received  a 
note  from  Miss  Coutts,  inclosing  me  a  five-pound  note  for  her  box. 
Returned  it  with  as  courteous  a  note  as  the  hurry  of  the  moment  would 
allow.  Went  over  the  part  of  Coriolanus  lying  on  the  sofa.  Acted 
the  part  but  indifferently. 

7th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  rehearsed  Foscari.  Received 
a  note  from  Beazley  inclosing  me  two  guineas  for  two  box  tickets.  I 
answered  his  note  returning  the  difference,  and  received  a  very  polite 
answer  from  him.  Another  note  from  Miss  Coutts,  returning  the  £2 
10s.,  and  requiring  six  more  box  or  pit  tickets,  which  were  sent  with 
my  compliments. 

Acted  Foscari  very  well.     Was  very  warmly  received  on  my  ap- 


428  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1838. 

pearance  ;  was  called  for  at  the  end  of  the  tragedy  and  received  by  the 
whole  house  standing  up  arid  waving  handkerchiefs  with  great  enthu- 
siasm. Dickens,  Forster,  Procter,  Browning,  Talfourd,  etc.,  came  into 
my  room.  The  operetta  of  "  Windsor  Castle  "  was  in  active  process 
of  damnation  as  1  left  the  theater.  Note  from  Mrs.  C.  Buller,  wish- 
ing me  to  go  to  her  on  Wednesday. 

10th.  —  We  had  a  dinner  party  consisting  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Procter, 
Loughs,  Blanchard,  Mrs.  Reid,  Miss  Martineau,  Messrs.  T.  Fon- 
blunque,  Savage,  Forster,  Ainsworth,  Beazley,  and  Maclise.  Note 
from  Lady  Nugent,  which  I  answered ;  four  of  our  visitors  stayed  un- 
reasonably late. 

llth.  —  Knowles  came  to  breakfast,  and  read  his  play,  with  which 
I  was  much  pleased.  lie  at  first  wished  to  bring  forward  "  Procida," 
but  on  my  expressing  myself  satisfied  with  "  The  City  Maid,"  he,  with 
an  expression  of  alacrity,  agreed  to  set  to  work  on  that.  Looked  at 
the  newspapers ;  went  to  the  theater,  and  directed  the  rehearsal  of  the 
Easter  piece,  attended  also  to  much  business  connected  with  it. 

Easter  Monday,  April  l&th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  was  en- 
gaged incessantly  the  whole  day  with  the  superintendence  of  the  Easter 
piece.  The  labor  was  oppressive.  Here  am  I  sacrificing  myself,  and 
still  I  must  ask,  for  what  —  for  whom  ?  At  a  quarter  past  four  I  lay 
down  to  rest  until  five  o'clock.  Notes  from  various  persons.  Acted 
Macbeth  in  an  odious  style ;  was  called  for  and  well  received  by  the 
audience.  The  afterpiece1  to  which  I  carefully  attended,  was  not  over 
until  nearly  half-past  twelve ;  reached  home  at  one. 

18th.  —  Spoke  with  Willmott  and  Marshall  about  the  alteration  of 
"  Sindbad  ;  "  directions  were  given  about  it.  Talking  with  Serle,  we 
entered  into  a  discussion  of  the  practicability  of  carrying  on  the  theater 
next  year  ;  Bartley  and  Robertson  came  in  and  participated  in  the  con- 
versation. Much  as  I  lament  to  see  the  work  I  have  done  fall  use- 
lessly into  nothing,  I  do  not  feel  that  I  can  with  propriety  continue  in 
the  direction  of  the  theater. 

1 9<A.  —  Coriolanus. 

20th.  —  Gave  the  evening  to  the  study  of  Thoas,2  a  bitter  drug.  Ac- 
count from  the  theater  most  wretched,  £55.  So  that  this  at  least  tells 
us  the  value  of  "  Coriolanus,"  and  even  the  "  Foscari." 

21s/.  —  Saw  the  papers,  and  went  to  the  theater,  where  I  was  startled 
at  learning  that  there  was  only  just  enough  cash  to  meet  the  day's  de- 
mands ;  and  this  included  the  remainder  of  my  benefit.  The  prospect 
is  fearful.  I  sent  for  Willmott,  and  immediately  made  arrangements 
to  dismiss  "  Sindbad  "  from  the  bills,  and  reduce  every  expense. 

22d.  —  Gave  the  whole  day  to  learning  the  words  of  Thoas,  which  I 

1  Sindbad,  the  Sailor ;  or,  the  Valley  of  Diamonds.     The  pieces  performed  in  this 
week  were  :  Macbeth,  The  Lady  of  Lyons,  The  Two  Foscari,  Coriolaniis,  The  Hypo- 
crite, Hi(jh  Life  below  Stairs  and  the  opera  of  Amelie ;  and  this  is  a  fair  sample  of 
the  variety  of  performances  given  under  Macready's  management,  himself  playing 
in  four  of  them.  —  ED. 

2  In  Talfourd's  Athenian  Captive.  —  ED. 


1838.  REHEARSING  "ATHENIAN  CAPTIVE."  429 

find  a  more  difficult  task  than  any  of  the  same  kind  I  have  ever  in  my 
life  had  to  encounter ;  labored  at  it,  but  it  escaped  me,  after  I  had 
gained  the  power  of  repeating  it.  It  is  so  overloaded,  and  so  round- 
about the  subject.  Macaulay  called,  and  told  me  how  highly  Lord  Den- 
man  had  been  speaking  of  me. 

23d.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  rehearsed  "  The  Athenian 
Captive."  Forster  and  Dickens  called  at  the  theater,  and  I  submitted 
to  them  the  proposed  omission  of  two  scenes,  to  which  they,  for  Tal- 
fourd,  agreed  and  made  further  excisions.  Business  with  Marshall, 
etc.,  about  the  play.  Mr.  Denmar  sent  me,  as  a  present,  a  Glasgow 
edition  of  Horace  from  the  late  John  Kemble's  library.1  O'Hanlon 
called  about  his  fancy  ball  dress.  Two  or  three  persons  called,  one 
with  a  play  on  the  subject  of  "  imprisonment  for  debt,"  which  he  did 
not  choose  to  leave,  as  the  subject  was  at  present  popular  !  Cut  "  The 
Athenian  Captive,"  and  rested  in  my  chair  for  half  an  hour.  Acted 
Macbeth  indifferently  ;  was  called  for  by  the  audience  and  kindly  re- 
ceived. 

24:th.  —  In  bed  went  over  two  scenes  of  "  Athenian  Captive  "  and 
rose  early  to  continue  the  study  of  it.  Went  to  the  theater.  Spoke  to 
Robertson  about  the  state  of  accounts,  ordering  all  bills  to  be  called  in, 
and  an  estimate  given  me  of  my  next  Saturday's  expenses.  Suggested 
to  him  and  Bartley  the  possibility  of  procuring  Knowles's  play  for  the 
company  to  act,  on  their  own  account,  after  my  proposed  retirement 
from  the  management ;  they  thought  it  not  practicable.  Rehearsed 
"  The  Athenian  Captive."  Business  in  settling  benefits,  plays,  etc. 
After  I  had  dined,  went  with  Bartley  to  the  North  London  Hospital, 
where  we  saw  Dr.  Elliotson's  exhibition  of  his  epileptic  patients  under 
a  course  of  animal  magnetism.  It  is  very  extraordinary,  and  I  cannot 
help  thinking  that  they  are  partly  under  a  morbid  influence  and  partly 
lend  themselves  to  a  delusion.  Rested  for  about  an  hour ;  acted  Claude 
Melnotte  very  fairly  ;  was  called  for  and  well  received  by  the  audience. 

25th.  —  Read  in  bed  the  part  of  Thoas  ;  went  to  the  theater,  where 
I  settled  with  Marshall  several  matters  respecting  the  scenery  of  "  The 
Athenian  Captive  ; "  Forster  and  Dickens  came  to  the  rehearsal  and 
sat  it  all  through.  They  told  me  that  Talfourd  had  undergone  the 
operation  of  amputation,  as  to  his  play,  very  manfully.  Knowles  told 
me  that  he  would  have  four  acts  ready  for  me  this  week.  Hullah  came 
to  speak  about  the  operetta  of  Serle's.  Baxter,  the  music  copyist,  came 
to  say  that  the  instrumentation  of  E.  Webbe's  opera  was  so  defective, 
that  it  could  not  be  played ;  that  notes  were  written  which  actually 
could  not  be  played  on  instruments. 

25th.  —  Letter  from  dearest  Edward,  giving  an  interesting  account 
of  his  present  state  and  expectations.  Looked  at  the  newspaper,  in 
which  I  saw  the  debate  upon  Talfourd's  Copyright  Bill.  Rehearsed 
"  The  Athenian  Captive,"  in  which  I  find  no  effect  for  my  character. 
Arranged  business  with  Head,  Marshall,  etc.  Talfourd  called.  I  told 

1  Bought  by  Anthony  Trollope  at  the  sale  of  Macready's  library  in  1873. 
—  ED. 


430  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1838. 

him  that  my  part  had  no  effect  in  it,  that  the  play  lay  upon  Mrs.  War- 
ner and  Mr.  Anderson.  Willmott  called  with  a  note  from  Mr.  Warner 
informing  Bartley  of  Mrs.  Warner's  sudden  indisposition  (her  labor 
having  come  unexpectedly  upon  her).  Mrs.  Clifford  had  Volumnia 
sent  to  her  and  we  talked  over  the  business  of  the  ensuing  week,  de- 
ciding on  closing  the  theater  Saturday  night. 

Talfourd,  Dickens,  and  Forster  came  and  debated  on  what  was  to 
be  done.  Talfourd  had  come  from  Lord  Lansdowne's  dinner  party, 
went  up  with  Forster.  etc.,  to  see  Miss  II.  Faucit  and  ask  her  to  act 
the  part.  She  entertained  the  subject,  but  could  give  no  answer  till 
the  morrow.  Wrote  to  Mrs.  Warner  inclosing  a  check  for  £40,  a 
month's  salary,  with  offer  of  any  accommodation  to  Mr.  Warner. 

2Stk.  —  Knowles  called  about  nine  o'clock,  to  say  he  would  be  here 
punctually  at  half-past  ten  to  breakfast.  He  came,  and  I  went  round 
by  his  house,  on  my  way  to  the  theater,  and  received  from  him  the  two 
first  acts  of  "  The  City  Maid."  Rehearsed  the  play  of  "  Romeo  and 
Juliet,''  with  my  part  of  Friar  Lawrence.  Settled  with  Marshall  the 
scenery  for  "  Ion "  and  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  and  with  Head  the 
dresses  for  the  latter.  Made  out  the  bill  for  the  week's  business. 
Sent  to  inquire  after  Mrs.  Warner.  Returning  home,  I  read  and  cut 
the  farce  of  "  Love  Extempore."  Read  the  two  acts  of  "  The  City 
Maid,"  which  I  think  admirably  written. 

2Qth.  —  Kenney  called  ;  I  told  him  that  I  had  cast  his  piece  of  "  Love 
Extempore,"  and  was  satisfied  that  Harley  would  do  the  part  in  it 
well. 

Went  to  dine  with  Dickens,  at  whose  house  I  met  Procter,  Ains- 
worth,  Bell  of  the  "  True  Sun,"  and  Forster.  An  agreeable  day. 

30th.  —  Read  over  Friar  Lawrence.  Acted  it.  I  find  the  playing 
a  part  of  this  sort,  with  no  direct  character  to  sustain,  no  effort  to  make, 
no  power  of  perceiving  an  impression  made,  to  be  a  very  disagreeable 
and  unprofitable  task.  Having  required  many  of  the  actors  to  do  what 
they  conceived  beneath  them,  perhaps  it  was  only  a  just  sacrifice  to 
their  opinions  to  concede  so  far. 

May  1st.  —  Rehearsed  "  The  Jealous  Wife."  Read  the  farce  of 
"  The  Veiled  Portrait "  to  the  actors.  Read  the  third  act  of  Knowles's 
play.  Read  fourth  act  of  "  King  Lear."  Read  three  first  acts  of 
Claude  Melnotte.  Acted  the  part  of  Melnotte  very  well.  Was  called 
for  and  very  warmly  received. 

3d.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where,  during  the  rehearsal,  I  saw 
Messrs.  Lowndes  and  Faber,  and  talked  with  them  about  the  reletting 
of  the  theater,  advising  them  not  to  delay  their  advertisement  beyond 
the  1st  of  June  ;  to  let  me  see  the  advertisements,  which  I  might  be 
able  to  improve  for  them  ;  to  retain  Willmott,  and  make  him  a  situa- 
tion in  the  summer,  the  taking  an  inventory  of  the  scenery  and  prop- 
erties, etc.  They  agreed  on  the  necessity  of  keeping  up  the  character 
of  the  theater,  and  seemed  obliged  by  the  interest  I  took  in  it.  Re- 
hearsed Mr.  Oakley.  Robertson  and  Bartley  came  into  my  room ; 
the  receipt  was  so  bad,  that  I  was  obliged  to  decide  on  closing  the 
house  on  Thursday. 


1838.  REHEARSING  "WOMAN'S  WIT."  431 

oth.  —  A  M.  Dumanoir,  Entrepreneur  du  Theatre  des  Varietes, 
called  early  to  ask  me  if  I  would  procure  a  license  for  the  French  com- 
pany, and  engage  the  troupe  from  the  Varietes.  I  showed  him  all 
possible  civility,  gave  him  the  freedom  of  the  theater,  but  declined  all 
speculation  :  I  have  had  enough  of  it.  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I 
rehearsed  with  care  the  play  of  "  As  You  Like  It."  Acted  Jaques 
pretty  well,  not  so  well  as  I  could  and  ought  to  have  done.  Was 
called  for  but  did  not  go  on.  Saw  the  farce  of  "  High  Life  below 
Stairs,"  with  which  I  was  much  amused. 

1th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  attended  to  the  business  before 
me,  and,  after  arranging  with  Marshall,  Willmott,  etc.,  sat  down  to 
read  and  cut  Knowles's  play  for  the  copyist.  Forster  gave  the  title 
of  "Woman's  Wit ;  or,  Love's  Disguises,"  to  Knowles's  play. 

9th.  —  Acted  Melnotte  pretty  well.  Was  called  for  with  Miss 
Faucit,  for  whose  benefit  it  was  acted,  and  well  received.  Arranged 
conclusively  the  characters  of  "  Woman's  Wit,"  and  sent  them  out. 

Elstree,  Sunday,  May  13th.  —  On  coming  down-stairs  turned  to  my 
accounts,  which  still  proceed,  only  increasing  on  the  disbursing  side. 
Yesterday  I  had  to  give  a  check  to  Robertson  for  £100  to  meet  the 
salaries. 

Read  Knowles's  play  of  "  Woman's  Wit."  Played  with  the  chil- 
dren. After  dinner  told  them  each  stories-  applicable  to  their  several 
characters.  Spent  an  idle  evening  of  enjoyment.  Read  prayers  to 
the  family. 

London,  May  1 9th.  —  Rehearsed  "  Woman's  Wit."  Knowles  was 
very  much  struck  with  the  beauty  of  the  scene  for  the  opening  of  the 
play ;  he  observed  to  me :  "  My  dear  Mac,  for  all  the  plays  I  have 
ever  written,  there  has  never  been  done  so  much  as  is  given  in  this 
one  scene."  He  went  on  to  say,  he  would  "  set  to  work  on  '  Procida ' 
without  delay  for  me,"  etc. 

Went  to  Fonblanque's  with  Forster.  Saw  Hayward,  F.  Reynolds, 
Savage,  Dr.  Quin,  D'Orsay,  Savage  Landor,  Bulwer,  Lord  Nugent, 
etc.  Went  home  with  Forster,  who  got  tea  for  me. 

2lst.  —  Gave  up  the  entire  morning  to  the  rehearsal  of  Knowles's 
play.  Knowles  was  very  much  struck  with  the  mode  of  putting  the 
play  upon  the  stage,  drilling  the  actors,  and  teaching  them  their  busi- 
ness ;  J  was  glad  he  was  present  that  he  might  know,  in  any  event, 
his  trust  had  not  been  misplaced.  He  told  me  the  proprietors,  if  they 
knew  their  interests,  ought  to  give  me  £4,000  per  annum  to  conduct 
their  theater  —  about  the  amount  that  I  shall  give  to  them  ! 

23d.  —  From  six  o'clock  to  eight,  I  was  boring  at  the  concluding 
speech  of  the  play,  having  closed  my  eyes  with  it  last  night,  and  could 
not  get  it  into  my  head.  Rehearsed  the  play  of  "  Woman's  Wit,"  and 
attended  to  all  the  various  matters  connected  with  it ;  scenes,  dresses, 
etc.  Read  over  my  own  part,  and  labored  at  the  concluding  speech, 
writing  it  out  repeatedly  from  memory,  but  unavailingly,  to  make  a 
secure  lodgment  with  it.  Acted  Walsingham  in  a  very  crude,  nerv- 
ous, unsatisfactory  manner.  Avoided  a  call  by  going  before  the  cur- 


432  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1838. 

tain  to  give  out  the  play  ;  there  was  very  great  enthusiasm.  Led  on 
Knowles  in  obedience  to  the  call  of  the  audience. 

2Gth.  —  Acted  Walsinghara  a  little  better  than  the  preceding  even- 
ings. Lydia  Bucknill,  who  was  in  the  theater,  went  with  me  after 
the  play  to  Elstree.  Twice  called  for',  and  making  bow  to  the  audi- 
ence. The  night  was  very  beautiful  —  the  young  moon  looking  like 
hope  and  promise  —  suggesting  happiness  to  lighter  hearts  than  mine, 
but  to  me  there  seems  little  prospect  of  content  or  comfort.  Found 
dearest  Catherine  very  unwell. 

2$th.  —  Had  a  long  conversation  with  Bartley  and  Robertson  on  the 
conduct  of  next  season  ;  they,  but  more  particularly  Bartley,  seemed 
to  be  very  anxious  that  I  should  be  continued,  with  safety  to  myself, 
in  the  management.  Bartley  mentioned  that  the  actors  were  to  meet 
on  Thursday,  and  that  Serle  had  a  plan  to  propose,  but  that  this  plan 
included  an  operatic  company.  I  am  nearly  certain  Serle's  plan  must 
be  of  a  republican  character,  with  which  I  said  I  would  have  nothing 
to  do  ;  as  a  director  I  must  be  a  despot,  or  serve.  Wrote  to  Babbage 
for  a  voucher  for  Herschel's  dinner.  Acted  Walsingham  middlingly. 

31  st.  —  After  the  interlude1  was  over,  Warde,  Harley,  Meadows, 
and  Stan  field  came  into  my  room  to  ask  me  to  step  into  the  green- 
room, where  I  found  my  company  assembled.  They  all  stood  up  as 
I  entered,  and  I  bowed  to- them,  and  Bartley  addressed  me  in  their 
names,  deputed  by  them.  I  cannot  remember  his  speech,  but  it  was 
very  well  arranged  and  delivered,  to  the  effect  that  they,  "  the  com- 
pany, had  been  deeply  penetrated  by  the  part  I  had  taken  in  standing 
forward  to  champion  the  cause  of  the  fallen  drama,  and  been  sensibly 
alive  to  the  labors  I  had  encountered,  and  the  sacrifices  I  had  made 
for  the  drama's  sake ;  that  they  wished  me  to  be  apprised  of  their 
high  appreciation  of  my  noble  conduct,  of  my  uniform  deportment 
towards  them,  and  of  the  various  acts  that  together  had  brought  back 
to  them  a  season  equal  in  its  effects  to  them  to  the  best  days  of 
the  drama  within  the  memory  of  the  oldest  actor ;  that  they  were 
well  aware  I  should  be  most  pleased  with  any  testimonial  of  their 
regard  in  proportion  to  its  unostentatiousness,  and  therefore  they  had 
selected  the  simplest  offering  as  a  mere  tablet,  on  which  to  inscribe 
their  names  and  record  their  gratitude  to  me ;  that  though  it  pos- 
sessed little  value  beyond  that,  yet  that  perhaps  on  some  occasion  it 
might  find  a  place  upon  my  sideboard,  and  that  Mrs.  Mac-ready, 
and  perhaps  my  children,  might  derive  some  little  pleasure  from 
the  sight  of  it."  The  salver  was  produced  and  the  inscription  read. 
He  was  affected  as  he  closed  his  speech,  which  I  can  only  very  im- 
perfectly recollect.  I  am  nearly  as  much  at  a  loss  to  recollect  the 
particulars  of  my  reply ;  he  said  something  about  "the  motives"  of 
my  undertaking  —  I  forget  in  what  manner.  As  nearly  as  I  can 
remember,  I  said  :  "  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  —  I  am  utterly  at  a  loss 
to  reply  to  what  has  been  so  kindly  communicated  to  me  from  you  by 

1  The  performances  of  this  evening  were:  Woman's  Wit,  The  Original,  and 
High  Life  below  Stairs.  —  ED. 


1838.  TESTIMONIAL  FROM   THE  ACTORS.  433 

our  common  friend,  Mr.  Bartley.  I  really  do  not  know  how  to 
thank  you.  I  am  wholly  unused  to  address  extemporaneously  any 
body  of  persons,  and  not  always  exact  in  the  expression  of  my  ideas 
in  ordinary  conversation.  I  thank  you  most  truly.  I  can  say  little 
more  than  this,  but  whilst  I  assure  you  that  I  feel  most  gratefully  your 
kindness  in  this  instance,  I  must  also  be  permitted  to  say  that  I  regret 
it ;  I  regret  that,  in  your  wish  to  testify  your  estimation  of  my  con- 
duct, you  should  have  altered  the  high  position  on  which  we  stood 
relatively  to  each  other  —  it  would  have  been  far  more  gratifying  to 
me  to  have  received  the  record  of  your  kind  appreciation  on  even 
perishable  paper  (which,  however,  never  could  have  perished  while  I 
or  any  dear  to  me  could  have  preserved  it)  and  have  held  faith  in  the 
sincerity  of  its  declaration.  But  as  it  is  I  can  only  again  thank  you, 
and  assure  you  how  truly  I  value  this  testimony  of  your  regard.  I 
truly  and  gratefully  thank  you.  Mr.  Bartley  has  alluded  to  the 
"  motives  "  which  induced  me  to  embark  on  this  speculation  or  experi- 
ment. I  may  observe  that  less  disinterested  motives  have  been  attrib- 
uted to  me  by  some  persons  who  have  been  remarked  in  society  for  a 
most  ungenerous  hostility  to  our  cause,  and  who,  perhaps,  are  scarcely 
worthy  of  notice.  These  persons  have  laid  down  their  opinion  that  I 
took  the  theater  "  only  to  fill  my  own  pockets."  I  am  sure  you  give 
me  credit  —  indeed,  you  have  proved  so  —  for  motives  not  altogether 
mercenary  and  selfish.  And,  in  contradiction  of  these  persons'  asser- 
tion, I  need  but  refer  to  your  several  engagements  and  to  my  contract 
with  the  proprietors,  by  which  I  might  long  since  have  closed  the  the- 
ater when  all  hope  of  reimbursing  myself  had  departed,  and  when  I 
could  only  continue  the  season  by  a  continuance  of  loss.  As  a  further 
evidence  that  my  motives  were  not  exclusively  selfish,  I  had  pledged 
myself,  before  the  opening  of  the  theater,  to  Mr.  Robertson  and  Mr. 
Bartley  (and  1  am  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  mentioning  it)  to  pay  to 
the  full  the  salaries  of  those  performers  who  consented  to  their  reduc- 
tion, and  who  consented  to  share  with  me  in  part  the  risk  I  was  ven- 
turing upon.  I  pledged  myself,  as  those  gentlemen  know,  to  pay  the 
full  amount  at  which  these  salaries  were  previously  rated  before  I 
touched  one  shilling  of  the  profits,  if  any  had  arisen  upon  the  season. 
I  may  also  refer  to  the  principles  on  which  the  theater  has  been  con- 
ducted, to  show  that  my  motives  were  not  altogether  mercenary  They 
were  in  fact  not  so.  Among  my  motives  the  primary  one  was  the  wish 
to  elevate  my  art,  and  to  establish  an  asylum  for  it  and  my  brothers 
and  sisters  professing  it,  where  they  might  be  secure  of  equitable  treat- 
ment, of  friendly  consideration,  and  most  of  all,  of  that  respect  which 
man  should  show  to  man  or,  which  is  most  important,  which  man 
should  show  to  woman.  I  cannot  be  so  presumptuous  as  to  suppose 
that  I  have  been  able  to  give  universal  satisfaction  ;  in  a  large  estab- 
lishment like  this  the  interests  of  individuals  must  often  be  merged  in 
that  of  the  community,  but  I  may  ask  credit  for  intention.  I  have 
endeavored  to  be  just,  and  though  perhaps  sometimes  I  may  have  been 
betrayed  into  a  manifestation  of  infirmity  of  temper,  I  have  at  least 
28 


434  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1838. 

striven  to  make  kindness  go  hand  in  hand  with  justice.  Once  more  I 
must  thank  you  ;  but  let  me  indulge  in  one  more  observation,  which 
is,  that  in  no  theatrical  season  I  remember,  has  there  ever  been  less 
discord  between  a  company  and  its  manager,  a  circumstance  of  whrch 
we  may  all  be  justly  proud,  and  in  the  honor  of  which  we  generally 
participate.  In  again  repeating  my  thanks  to  you  I  may  mention  that, 
in  a  letter  addressed  to  me  on  business  at  the  beginning  of  the  season 
by  a  gentleman  I  believe  now  present,  the  writer  told  me  that  I  was 
regarded  —  yes,  he  intimated  widely  —  as  the  actor's  friend;  it  was 
the  most  gratifying  character  that  could  be  applied  to  me.  Let  me 
believe  that  the  testimonial  now  before  me  may  be  considered  by  me 
as  an  attestation  of  your  assent  to  the  justice  of  the  term,  and  let  me 
entreat  of  you  that  my  name  may  never  be  dissociated  from  the  ap- 
pellation. Thank  you  once  more,  truly  and  cordially ! "  I  shook 
hands  with  those  near  me  and  left  the  room.  Stanh'eld,  Knowles, 
Forster,  Bartley,  etc.,  came  into  my  room  ;  I  was  pleased  to  hear  that 
Mrs.  II.  Phillips's  and  Power's,  etc.,  names  were  inscribed  on  the 
salver. 

June  5th.  —  Read  the  essay  on  "  Envy  "  in  Bacon  —  endeavoring 
to  examine  myself  by  it. 

1th.  —  Spoke  to  Mr.  Anderson  upon  his  impatience  under  bad 
parts,  and  recommended  him  to  take  all  that  came  without  question  or 
murmur  as  his  most  certain  way  to  estimation.  He  was  very  grateful, 
and  thanked  me  for  all  I  had  done  for  him, 

14:th.  —  Mr.  Webster  sent  up  his  card  and  came  in.  He  proposed 
an  engagement — asked  me  if  I  would  take  £20  per  night.  I  said, 
No  ;  that  I  did  not  wish  to  act,  and  would  take  nothing  under  £25 
per  night  for  four  nights  per  week  for  five  weeks.  He  said,  "  Well, 
Mr.  Macready,  I  will  give  it,"  and  named  the  time  —  the  middle  of 
July.  I  told  him  I  would  not  act  Shakespeare's  tragedies  at  the  Hay- 
market,  to  which  he  agreed  —  Knowles's  play  was  the  object.  Put 
him  on  the  free  list. 

liith  —  Read  the  newspapers  and  saw  Knowles,  who  came  with  a 
letter  from  Lord  John  Russell  implying  the  Queen's  intention  of  vis- 
iting the  theater  after  coronation.  Dressed  and  went  to  Freemason's 
Tavern  to  the  dinner  given  to  Sir  J.  F.  Herschel.1  Babbage  had 
procured  me  a  very  good  place.  I  saw  Hawes,  Vivian,  with  whom 
I  resumed  acquaintance,  Lardner,  Warren,  Wilkie,  Heywood.  The 
room  filled  completely,  and  presented  a  brilliant  spectacle  in  itself, 
and  an  interesting  subject  for  contemplation  in  the  thought  of  the 
quantity  of  mind  shut  up  within  these  walls ;  there  were  with  the 
Duke  of  Sussex,  Lords  Lansdowne,  Fitzwilliam,  Cawdor,  Oxman- 
town,2  Adare,  Northampton,  Burlington,  Sir  J.  Brisbane  (a  distin- 
guished astronomer),  Sir  A.  Adam,  etc.  Lady  Herschel  and  ifc-s. 
Somerville  were  up  in  the  gallery.'  I  could  not  avoid  thinking  of 

1  On  the  occasion  of  his  return  from  the  Cnpe  of  Good  Hope,  where  he  had  spent 
some  time  in  observing  the  stars  of  the  southern  hemisphere.  —  ED. 
a  Afterwards  Lord  Rosse.  —  ED. 


1838.  HAYMARKET  ENGAGEMENT.  435 

her  feelings.  Sir  J.  Herschel,  in  returning  thanks  for  his  health,  pro- 
posed by  the  Duke  of  Sussex,  made  a  long  and,  as  far  as  I  could  catch 
portions  of  it,  a  very  good  speech.  Sedgvvick  in  a  good  speech,  if  it 
had  not  been  so  very  long,  proposed  the  Duke  of  Sussex.  Lands- 
downe  and  others  spoke.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  how  rank  sank  be- 
fore the  eternal  greatness  of  science. 

21st.  —  Was  very  busy  in  arranging  the  expenses  of  the  company 
for  next  season,  when  Robertson  came  to  me  with  the  report  from 
Knowles  and  Captain  Forbes  to  the  effect  that  they  thought  my  pay- 
ment placed  much  too  high,  and  their  rent  very  much  too  low.  I  tore 
my  papers  and  assented  to  the  rupture  of  the  negotiation.  So  ended 
my  scheme  for  the  regeneration  of  the  drama.  Looked  into  Bartley's 
room  as  I  passed,  where  he  and  Willmott  were  ;  told  them  of  it  to 
their  great  consternation. 

22rf. —  Went  to  theater,  having  in  bed  pondered  on  some  scenes 
of  Shylock.  Found  Hartley  and  Robertson  together,  and  spent  an 
hour  or  two  in  talking  over  the  refusal  of  the  proprietors  to  take  my 
offer.  Bartley  asked  if  they  would  like  £6,000  and  the  two  private 
boxes,  making  £800  more,  £2,000  being  paid  down  in  advance,  and 
the  resumption  of  their  payments  being  made  about  Christmas  at 
the  rate  of  £240  per  week,  leaving  me  at  liberty  to  close  at  any  pe- 
riod. 

Acted  Claude  Melnotte  better  than  I  have  ever  done  ;  was  called 
for,  and  received  with  very  great  cordiality.  Notification  of  my  elec- 
tion from  the  Athenaeum  Club. 

2Qth.  —  Webster  called  and  expressed  the  great  pleasure  he  should 
have;  in  case  of  my  relinquishment  of  Covent  Garden,  to  make  my 
engagement  last  to  the  end  of  his  season  with  Knowles's  and  Bulwer's 
plays. 

30th.  —  Forster  called.  Wrote  out  part  of  the  closing  speech  for 
Bartley  to  deliver.  Robertson  brought  me  word  that  the  proprietors 
agreed  to  the  proposal  I  had  given  in,  but  wished  something  definite 
about  surplus.  I  told  him  I  would  say  nothing ;  that  I  did  not  intend 
to  make  a  gift  to  them,  but  if  the  surplus  should  reach  to  a  high  sum, 
say  £7,000,  I  should  consider  it  only  fair  that  they,  as  having  partic- 
ipated in  the  risk,  should  be  considered  in  the  remuneration ;  that  I 
should  send  them  £1,000  on  such  account. 

July  5th.  —  Acted  Claude  Melnotte  very  well,  was  called  for  and  led 
on  Miss  Faucit.  Many  bouquets  were  thrown  on  the  stage. 

The  last  night  of  my  performance  this  season  at  Covent  Garden.1 

6^.  —  Went  into  Mrs.  Macready's  box  to  hear  Bartley  deliver  the 
closing  speech.  He  had  said  to  me  a  little  before  that  it  had  occurred 
to  him  the  audience  might  call  for  me.  I  said  if  they  did  I  would 
instantly  run  out  of  the  theater,  so  that  he  might  with  perfect  safety 
say  that  I  was  not  in  it.  The  cheering  was  so  loud  and  long  on  his 
announcement  of  my  continuing  in  the  lesseeship,  that  I  thought  it 
time  to  decamp  and  went  out  of  the  theater. 

1  The  performances  were  Woman's  Wit  and  Fra  Diavolo.  —  ED. 


436  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1838. 

1th.  —  Leave  London  for  Paris. 

Paris,  July  l'2th.  —  Went  to  the  Gymnase,  a  theater  in  apparently 
a  declining  state,  but  which  ought  not  to  be,  if  only  as  affording  scope 
to  the  development  of  the  talents  of  Madame  D'Orval,  the  best  actress 
in  the  domestic  tragedy  that  I  have  seen  since  Miss  O'Neill.  I  think, 
in  her  own  line,  quite  as  good,  though  not  so  lovely,  as  that  charming 
actress.  She  acted  in  a  piece  called  "  La  Belle  Soeur,"  a  married 
woman  jealous  of  her  sister  ;  it  was  admirable  —  it  was  real  in  all  its 
varieties. 

London,  July  23d.  —  Went  to  Haymarket  to  rehearse  Kitely  ;  acted 
it  pretty  well. 

25lh.  —  "  Lord  Townley  "  at  Haymarket.  Sir  E.  Bulwer  came  into 
my  room,  and  I  talked  with  him  about  a  play  for  next  season.  He 
wants  a  subject,  and  will  go  to  work. 

August  3d.  —  My  mind  was  occupied  for  some  time  in  endeavoring 
to  compute  my  pecuniary  loss  by  management.  I  find  I  managed  to 
lose,  as  I  first  thought,  judging  from  actual  decrease  of  capital,  and  ab- 
sence of  profit  by  my  labor,  £2,500,  or,  measuring  my  receipt  by  the 
previous  year,  £1,800.  It  is  a  painful  subject  for  rumination,  but  re- 
pining never  amended  misfortune. 

Acted  Townley ;  was  much  pleased  to  mark  the  deep  interest  which 
a  lady  in  the  stage-box  took  in  the  last  scene  between  Lord  and  Lady 
Townley.  These  are  the  sort  of  auditors  that  lend  a  temporary  fasci- 
nation to  the  exercise  of  our  art. 

4th.  —  Acted  Thoas  with  vigor  and  effect ;  quite  bore  the  play  on 
my  own  strength.  Was  called  for  by  the  audience ;  went  on  leading 
Mrs.  Warner,  and  was  very  cordially  received.  Talfourd  came  into 
my  room  in  a  state  of  high  excitement  and  delight ;  was  lavish  in  his 
acknowledgments  and  surprised,  as  he  expressed  himself,  at  the  effect 
I  had  produced. 

20th. —  AVent  to  13  Cumberland  Terrace,  and  saw  the  house, 
which  I  liked  very  much.  Mr.  Elton  called  and  spoke  to  me  about  his 
benefit  I  mentioned  "  The  Bridal,"  and  told  him  that  I  must  do 
things  in  my  own  way  and  must  be  paid  for  acting ;  that  I  would  not, 
as  Dr.  Johnson  advised  Mr.  Thrale  —  give  away  barrels  of  beer.  He 
assented. 

22d.  —  Continued  my  work  on  the  book  of  <l  The  Tempest,"  and 
agreed  to  take  13  Cumberland  Terrace,  from  15th  September  to  March 
24th  at  £7  10s.  per  week. 

25th.  —  Talked  much  with  Bradwell  on  the  machinery,  etc.,  of 
"  The  Tempest,"  and  on  the  machinery  of  the  theater  as  useless. 

28th.  —  Miss  P.  Horton,  to  whom  I  spoke  about  the  flying  of  Ariel, 
and  appointed  the  makers  of  the  dress  to  call  on  her.  Busied  with 
"  The  Tempest,"  which  much  perplexed  me  on  reconsidering  it- 

29th.  —  Went  over  the  scenery  looked  out  by  Sloman,  with  Will- 
mott,  and  had  conversation  with  Bradwell  about  the  flying  dress  for 
Ariel. 

30th.  —  Copied  out  the  cues  and  business  for  "  Tempest  "  to  send  to 


* 
1838.  AT  EASTBOURNE.  437 

T.  Cooke  ;  wrote  to  him  and  inclosed  what  I  had  done.  Arranged 
with  Marshall  and  Willmott  the  entire  scenery  of  "  The  Tempest." 

3lst. —  Went  to  the  city  with  Bradwell  and  Brydone  to  see  the 
newly  invented  light,  the  liquid  gas ;  was  much  pleased  with  it,  and 
made  an  appointment  with  the  person  for  to-morrow.  Elton  came  over 
to  my  lodgings  where  Forster  had  taken  tea  with  me,  and  paid  me  £25. 
I  wrote  him  a  kind  letter  inclosing  a  check  for  £30. 

September  1st.  —  Went  over  the  play  of  "The  Tempest"  with 
Bradwell  and  Willmott.  A  Mr.  Ashford  called,  on  the  part  of  the 
liquid  gas  company  ;  told  me  that  he  had  been  an  old  school-fellow  of 
mine  at  Edgell's  preparatory  school ;  I  remembered  his  face,  not  seen 
for  thirty-six  years  at  least.  The  persons  went  round  the  theater,  and 
are  to  send  their  practical  men  next  week.  It  will  be  a  great  reduc- 
tion of  expense,  if  it  can  be  saved.  Received  a  note  of  acknowledg- 
ment from  Elton. 

Eastbourne,  September  2d. —  Rose  early,  and  having  breakfasted, 
etc.,  went  down  to  Charing  Cross  and  set  out  in  the  Brighton  Coach. 
Used  my  journey,  so  far  as  to  amuse  and  profit  myself,  by  reading, 
first,  the  "  Literary  Gazette,"  in  which  the  proceedings  of  the  Scien- 
tific Association  are  recorded.  Read  the  greater  part  of  Miss  Mar- 
tineau's  book  of  "  Morals  and  Manners,"  which  very  much  pleased  me. 
Between  Brighton  and  Eastbourne,  I  read  over  the  part  of  Prospero. 
Found,  at  Eastbourne,  my  dear  family  all  in  good  health,  for  which  I 
truly  and  fervently  thank  God.  Arranged  my  accounts.  Read  Oxen- 
ford's  farce  of  "  Brown,  Jones,  and  Robinson  "  —  it  is  humorous,  but 
very  dangerous.  Attended  to  Nina's  and  Willie's  lessons  in  arith- 
metic. Attended  to  the  business  of  the  opening  weeks  of  the  theatre. 
Searched  through  lists  of  plays,  cast  plays,  etc.  Read  and  cut  the 
farce  of  the  "  Flitch  of  Bacon."  Wrote  to  Talfourd  requesting  him  to 
ask  Professor  Wilson  to  give  a  paper  in  "  Blackwood  "  in  furtherance 
of  our  enterprise.  Went  in  the  evening  with  Catherine,  Letitia,  and 
the  children  to  Beachy  Head.  Happy  to  see  them  all  so  happy. 
Pleased  with  the  expanse  of  prospect,  and  the  pure  fresh  air  that  we 
inhaled.  In  the  evening,  read  the  last  three  acts  of  Zouch  Trough- 
ton's  tragedy  of  "  Olaus,"  which  is  very  clever,  decidedly  superior  to 
the  many  ;  but  I  do  not  think  it  reaches  the  point  of  excellence  that 
insures  success. 

5th.  —  Left  my  dear  Catherine  and  children;  the  two  youngest 
were  with  us  before  I  set  out,  and  the  three  eldest  roving  and  romp- 
ing about  the  shingle,  as  wild  as  the  tide  that  was  tumbling  in  close  to 
them. 

My  passengers  were  silent  women,  with  nothing  to  remark ;  one, 
the  youngest,  was  weeping  as  we  set  out,  and  affliction,  or  ifs  signs, 
always  engage  respect  and  something  like  sympathy.  Resumed  Miss 
Martineau's  book  of  "  Morals  and  Manners  ; "  was  very  much  pleased 
with  almost  all  I  read.  I  dissent  from  the  full  participation  of  manly 
employments  and  immunities  which  she  requires  for  women,  in  part, 
but  otherwise  I  think  her  a  reasoner  for  truth  and  an  excellent  mor- 
alist. 


433  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1838. 

Read  over,  for  the  sake  of  mastering  the  words,  the  character  of 
Prospero  ;  afterwards  read  that  of  the  Duke  in  "  Measure  for  Meas- 
ure." On  reaching  London,  drove  to  Covent  Garden  Theater,  where 
I  found  my  desk  covered  over  with  letters  and  MSS. 

Reached  the  theater  by  eight  o'clock. 

Bradwell  had  the  experimental  attempt  of  the  flying  Ariel,  which 
seemed  to  answer.  Miss  P.  Horton  called,  and  took  directions  about 
her  dress. 

London,  September  8th.  —  Rose  early,  and  arranged  my  clothes  and 
books  to  go  home  ;  was  at  Covent  Garden  Theater  before  eight  o'clock 
and  went  to  the  painting-room,  where  I  had  some  speech  with  Slo- 
man  on  material  wanted  and  on  the  hours  of  the  men,  which  are  from 
half-past  six  to  half-past  five  in  summer,  and  seven  to  five  in  winter. 
Wrote  to  thank  Miss  Martineau  for  the  book ;  to  Bulwer  about  his 
subject  for  a  play  ;  shortly  afterwards  received  a  note  from  him  ; 
answered  M.  de  Fresne's  1  kind  letter,  having  read  the  enthusiastic 
observations  of  Talma  on  the  dramatic  art.  Wrote  to  dear  Catherine, 
inclosing  her  £15.  Willmott  came,  and  we  cast  the  pieces  for  the  first 
week ;  previously,  I  had  sent  on  the  advertisement  summoning  the 
company  to  assemble.  Transacted  business  with  Brydone  and  Mar- 
shall. Bradwell  proposed  reading  the  operatic  drama  to  Serle  and 
Willmott  in  order  to  save  time. 

Read  to  my  listeners  the  adaptation  of  Kotzebue's  <%  Happy  Family," 
which  they  liked  very  much.  Willmott  thought  that  I  ought  to  play 
the  part  of  Hans  Karlstein ;  I  feel  that  it  is  yielding  a  great  oppor- 
tunity to  another  actor,  but  unless  I  am  to  act  every  night  myself,  and 
wish  no  one  to  be  seen  but  myself — a  selfish  engrossment  of  oppor- 
tunity that  would  recoil  upon  myself — I  must  give  chances  to  those 
whom  I  employ  ;  I  must  be  sincerely  high  minded,  or  I  have  no 
business  in  my  place.  There  will  be  enough  for  me  to  do,  and  I  must 
strive  harder  for  my  own  superiority  of  place. 

Came  home  by  Billing's,  reading  "  Literary  Gazette  "  and  part  of 
Sir  Owen  Mortland.  Ran  up  Brockley  Hill  for  exercise,  to  remove 
the  rheumatic  pains  in  my  left  leg.  Gave  the  whole  evening,  after  a 
walk  round  the  garden,  to  searching  for  a  subject  for  Bulwer. 

London,  September  \\th.  —  Went  to  the  painting-room,  spoke  witli 
Marshall  on  business,  and  then  to  Bradwell's  room  to  inspect  his 
model  of  the  opening  of  "  The  Tempest."  Mr.  Vandenhoff  called  and 
had  some  conversation  with  him  ;  signed  his  articles  with  him.  Busi- 
ness with  Willmott,  Robertson,  and  Brydone,  upon  Sloman's  ex- 
penses, etc. ;  Miss  P.  Horton  and  Bradwell ;  Serle,  who  brought 
Loder,  and  it  was  settled  with  him  he  was  to  compose  the  music  for 
the  operatic  drama  ;  Mr.  Young,  with  the  opening  of  the  pantomime. 
Haynes  also  went  minutely  into  the  subject  of  the  alteration  of  his 

1  M.  de  Frcsne,  a  gentleman  well  known  in  official  and  literary  society  in  Paris, 
nnd  Secre'taire-Ge'ne'ral  in  the  department  of  the  Prefecture  of  the  Seine,  under  the 
Restoration.  He  had  an  affectionate  friendship  for  Macready  and  frequently  cor- 
responded with  him.  —  ED. 


1838.  SECOND  SEASON  AS  MANAGER.  439 

play  ;  afterwards,  Forster  called  ;  then  wrote  a  few  lines  to  Catherine. 
Answered  Mr.  Bell.  Looked  over  and  cut  finally  the  operatic  drama. 
Head  the  opening  of  the  pantomime.  Forster  and  Cattermole  dined 
with  me  at  the  theater. 

12th.  —  Made  out  a  preface  for  the  announcement  of  season.  Went 
out  to  call  on  Wallace,  and  felt  quite  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  tak- 
ing a  little  exercise.  Looked  in  at  a  print-shop  and  looked  over  a 
French  publication  of  the  Versailles  Gallery ;  thought  it  might  be 
serviceable  as  a  reference  for  costume,  but  paused  upon  the  price. 
Went  on  to  Wallace.  Talked  over  with  him  Haynes's  play  and  the 
affairs  of  the  season.  Required  his  assistance  in  the  matter  of  the 
opening  advertisement ;  left  with  him  that  which  I  had  drawn  out, 
and  promised  to  send  him  the  newspaper  containing  our  previous  bul- 
letins. Returning,  called  on  Kenney  ;  spoke  to  him  about  Marguerite, 
with  which  he  is  proceeding  at  Covent  Garden  Theater.  Found  Miss 
Horton  practicing  her  flight.  Business  with  Brydone,  Robertson, 
who  gave  me  his  accounts,  etc.,  Bradwell,  etc.  Settled  casts  of 
plays  with  Willmott.  Welsh  called  and  paid  me  £100.  Consented 
to  Strickland's  performance  on  our  first  Saturday,  and  to  his  and  Miss 
Taylor's  names  appearing  in  our  announcement,  without  which  I 
would  not  publish  them. 

17th.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden,  where  I  immediately  entered  on 
the  business  that  was  waiting  for  me.  Letters  from  Bulwer  about 
subject ;  Home,  about  an  annuity  to  be  subscribed  for  Leigh  Hunt, 
to  which  my  name  was  given  for  £5  ;  from  Wade  about  his  play,  etc. 
Much  business  was  before  me,  and  occupied  me  variously  through 
the  day;  the  price  of  work  was  settled;  the  ladies'  rooms  appointed 
and  settled  ;  the  private  boxes,  lobbies,  and  whole  part  of  the  theater 
inspected,  and  finally  settled  as  to  its  cleaning,  etc.  The  expenses  of 
the  men's  wardrobe  reduced,  and  alteration  made  as  to  the  lighting ; 
to  reduce  still  more  the  expenses,  question  about  the  laundry  work  — 
still,  still  imposition  !  Scene  room,  wardrobe,  carpenter's  room  ;  busi- 
ness with  all ;  cast  pieces  and  made  out  the  bill  for  first  night. 

24th.  —  Began  the  day  with  packing  up  things  for  the  theater; 
looked  over  my  children's  sums,  and  read  in  "  Hamlet."  Went  to 
Covent  Garden  Theater  where  I  attended  the  rehearsal  of  "  High 
Life,"  and  the  play  of  "  Coriolanus."  Arranged  and  read  my  letters, 
giving  several  to  Serle  and  Robertson  to  answer,  answering  others 
myself.  Spoke  with  Marshall  on  business,  and  was  fully  occupied 
each  moment  of  the  day.  Thought  of  what  I  would  say  if  I  were  to 
be  called  on.  Began  to  unpack  my  portmanteau  and  to  arrange  my 
wardrobe,  etc.,  in  my  room.  Dressed  myself  and  prepared  for  the 
play.  After  "  God  save  the  Queen,"  there  was  a  general  call  for  my- 
self. I  went  down  from  the  box,  and  returned  flurried,  prepared  to 
go  on :  the  reception  of  the  audience  was  most  enthusiastic.  I  said 
that  I  was  at  a  loss  to  thank  them  for  the  compliment.  I  hope  my 
exertions  would  prove  the  estimation  I  set  upon  their  kind  opinion, 
that  professions  were  of  little  avail,  and  therefore  I  would  only  assure 


,440  M .  1 CREAD  Y'S  DIARIES.  1 838. 

them  that  unremitting  zeal,  good  intentions,  and  good  faith  should  be 
my  rules  of  conduct  in  the  establishment.  I  was  to  play  Coriolanus, 
which  is  certainly  beautiful.  Bulwer  came  and  sat  it  out  with  me  ; 
he  talked  of  a  subject  on  which  he  is  thinking.  A  full  house.1 

27th.  —  Went  to   Covent   Garden  Theater,  where  I   tried   to   sit 

1  Notice  had  been  given  of  the  re-opening  of  the  theater  by  the  following  an- 
nouncement : 

THEATER  ROYAL   COVENT   GARDEN. 


MR.  MACREADY  begs  most  respectfully  to  announce  that 
this  Theater  will  be  re-opened 

on  Monday,  September  24th,  1 838. 

In  entering  upon  this  second,  and  to  him  most  serious  experiment,  he  will  only 
say  the  same  views  with  which  he  undertook  the  conduct  of  this  establishment  last 
season  will  be  followed  up.  and  his  more  specific  pledges  will  continue  to  be  strictly 
fulfilled. 

No  exertion  will  be  spared  in  presenting  the  National  Drama,  whether  as  a 
branch  of  literature  or  as  a  department  of  art,  with  every  advantage. 

The  revival  of  the  standard  plays  of  Shakespeare  in  the  genuine  text  of  the  Poet 
will  be  persevered  in  with  increased  activity,  and  without  regard  to  expense  in 
attaining  the  utmost  fidelity  of  historic  illustration. 

New  pieces  will  be  brought  out  in  quick  succession,  with  the  same  attention  to 
decoration,  especially  pieces  of  such  a  character  as  to  depend  mainly  upon  extrinsic 
attractions ;  and  the  system  of  abstaining  from  all  exaggerated  and  delusive  an- 
nouncements in  the  pfay-bills  will  be  rigidly  adhered  to. 


THE  COMPANY  OF  THE  SEASON  CONSISTS  OF 

MESSRS. 

ANDERSON,  FRASER,  ROBERTS, 

AYLIFFE,  HARLEY,  SERLE, 

BARTLEY,  HOWE,  STRICKLAND, 

G.  BENNETT,  LEFFLEH,  C.  J.  SMITH, 

BEDFORD,  LEE,  TILBUUY, 

BURNETT,  MACREADY,  VANDENHOFF, 

BENDER,  MEADOWS,  F.  VINING, 

COLLETT,  T.  MATHEWS,  WARDE, 

DIDDEAR,  PHELPS,  WALDRON, 

ELTON,  W.  H.  PAYNE,  YARXOLD,  ETC. 

MESDAMES. 

W.  CLIFFORD,  GARRICK,  SERLE, 

CHARLES,  P.  HORTON,  TAYLOR, 

EAST,  HCMBY,  VANDENUOFF, 

HELEN  FATTCIT,  E.  PHILLIPS,  WARNER, 

FAIRBROTHER,  RAINFORTH,  WORTLEY,  ETC. 

GRIFFITHS, 

Actiny  Manager,  MR.  SERLE.  Musical  Director,  MR.  T.  COOKB. 

Slage  Director,  MR.  WILLMOTT. 


1838.  "THE   TEMPEST."  441 

through  "  Brown,  Jones  and  Robinson,"  but  could  not ;  it  was  so  flatly 
acted  that  I  could  sit  no  longer.  Went  into  my  room  and  read  over 
the  farce  called  "  Jealousy."  The  piece  of  Brown,  Jones,  etc.,  was 
finished  among  contending  voices.  It  is  the  same  as  d — d. 

28th.  —  Settled  business  with  jSerle  and  Willmott,  deciding  on  not 
acting  "  The  Tempest "  till  Saturday  fortnight.  The  newspapers  let 
off  our  farce  very  gently  indeed  ;  used  it  much  better  than  its  repre- 
sentation deserved.  Came  home.  After  dinner  went  over  Prospero 
with  Catherine. 

30^.  —  Catherine,  this  morning,  before  I  rose,  told  me  of  the  death 
of  my  dear  and  valued  friend,  Jane  Hedley  ;  it  is  most  sad  and  mourn- 
ful to  think  that  I  shall  never  see  this  loved  friend  again.  In  my 
youth  her  friendship  and  advice  was  a  support  and  comfort  to  me. 
She  is  one  of  those  whose  interest  seemed  identified  with  my  exist- 
ence. The  will  of  the  Almighty  Power  that  controls  and  directs  us 
breaks  up  these  fantasies,  and  leads  us  from  our  own  imaginings  to  the 
conviction  of  the  mere  temporary  abode  which  this  world  is  —  an  inn 
upon  the  eternal  course  we  have  to  run.  God  bless  her  spirit,  my 
dear,  dear  friend.  The  desk  on  which  I  am  writing  was  her  gift, 
which  now  will  be  quite  dear  to  me  :  a  memorial  of  one  of  the  kind- 
est and  most  attached  of  friends.  Vale. 

October  1st.  —  Rose  early,  and,  after  looking  over  my  dear  children's 
lessons,  turned  over  the  leaves  of  "  Hamlet,"  about  which  I  felt  very 
doubtful  and  uneasy.  Bade  good-by  to  my  children  and  Catherine 
with  depression  —  that  was  a  misgiving.  Went  to  the  theater,  where 
I  was  annoyed  by  finding  my  orders  and  intentions  completely  frus- 
trated through  the  indolence  and  ignorance  of  the  persons  employed  ; 
the  closet  scene,  which  I  had  intended  to  be  a  beautiful  effect,  was 
necessarily  left  in  its  original  state.  Rehearsed  the  play  very  feebly 
and  unsatisfactorily  ;  in  one  or  two  places  I  proved  to  myself  that  I 
could  act  the  character  well  if  I  could  only  throw  myself  heartily  and 
naturally  into  it.  Looked  at  my  letters.  Lay  down  in  my  bed,  which 
I  was  obliged  to  make  up  with  cloaks,  etc. 

Rose  almost  hopeless,  nerved  myself  as  I  dressed,  and  acted  Hamlet 
perhaps  altogether  as  well  as  I  have  ever  done ;  was  very  cordially 
received,  and  called  on  afterwards  with  much  enthusiasm. 

8th.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater ;  attended  to  business  in  the 
painting-room  and  stage,  etc.  Superintended  the  rehearsal  of  the  three 
last  acts  of  "  The  Tempest."  Head  came  to  me  to  go  over  again  the 
dresses  I  had  arranged  on  Saturday.  Lay  down,  slept,  and  thought 
of  "  Hamlet ; "  acted  Hamlet  in  parts  tolerably  well.  His  advice  to 
the  players  I  never  gave  so  well ;  was  called  for,  and  well  received  by 
the  audience.  Settled  again  the  clothes  for  "  The  Tempest "  with 
Head. 

9th.  —  Attended  the  night  rehearsal  of  "  The  Tempest,"  with  the 
scenery  of  which  I  was  detained  till  half-past  two  o'clock.  Went  to 
bed  about  half-past  three,  and  read  Prospero  till  past  four. 

10th.  —  Very  much  fatigued,  in  fact,  rather  overworked.     Went  to 


442  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1838. 

the  theater,  and  attended  to  the  rehearsal  of  the  words  of  "  The 
Tempest ; "  distressed  to  find  myself  so  imperfect  in  the  words  of 
Prospero.  Spoke  with  Marshall  about  some  very  important  altera- 
tion in  the  scenery  of  "  The  Tempest,"  and  settled  it  with  him  and 
Bradwell. 

llth, — Lay  in  bed  to  recover  my  exhausted  frame  from  the  wear- 
ing efforts  of  the  late  hard  labor.  Bead  Prospero,  and  repeated  it 
to  Catherine  before  I  rose,  being  comfortably  perfect  in  the  words. 
Dined  with  the  children,  and  after  dinner  read  Othello. 

Went  to  Co  vent  Garden  Theater.  Looked  at  letters  and  parcels. 
Acted  Othello  very  fairly,  considering  the  quantity  on  my  mind. 

Much  annoyed  by  hearing  some  one  hissing  Mr.  F in  his  song 

in  the  "  Cabinet."  An  actor  should  not  be  a  manager,  one  duty  is 
quite  enough. 

1 2th.  —  The  entire  day,  from  eleven  in  the  morning  until  past  one 
at  night,  devoted  to  the  rehearsal  of  ''  The  Tempest,"  with  the  effect 
of  which  I  am  by  no  means  satisfied. 

13th.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater.  Attended  to  the  busi- 
ness of  the  day.  Rehearsed  the  play  and  made  some  valuable  altera- 
tions. Received  letters,  one  informing  me  that  the  writer,  a  creditor 

of  Mr.  W ,  would  arrest  him,  and  prevent  his  performance  this 

evening  if  I  did  not  "  intercede  "  and  settle  the  debt.  Business.  Read 
Prospero  as  well  as  I  could ;  acted  it  as  well  as  I  could  —  but  how 
could  I  act  it  well  with  the  excitement  and  load  of  such  a  production 
on  my  mind  ?  Was  greatly  received.  Called  for  after  the  play  and 
received  again  with  enthusiasm.  Dickens  and  Forster  went  to  our 
box.  Gave  largess  to  the  carpenters.1 

14th. —  Could  not  recover  myself  from  the  excitement  of  last  night. 
The  scenes  of  the  storm,  the  flights  of  Ariel,  and  the  enthusiasm  of 
the  house  were  constantly  recurring  to  me. 

15tk. —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  saw  the  newspapers,  which 
renewed  the  excitement  that  I  thought  had  subsided.  I  tried  to  tran- 
quillize myself,  but  vainly.  This  is  not  a  life  to  live  for  one  who  wishes 
to  improve  himself  by  living  —  it  is  a  tempest  itself. 

16th.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater.  Mr.  VandenhofF  spoke 
to  me,  trying  to  get  released  from  acting  Colonel  Neville2  on  Satur- 
day. I  did  not  give  way.  Attended  to  the  rehearsal  of  "  Jealousy  '' 
and  "  The  Foresters "  until  nearly  three  o'clock.  Engaged  Mr. 
Blanchard  for  the  pantomime.  Mr.  Young  called  with  part  of  the 
opening  of  the  pantomime.  Serle  and  Willmott  on  business.  Acted 
Prospero  very  roughly  —  was  called  for,  and  led  on  Miss  P.  Horton. 
Spoke  to  Willmott  about  inaccuracies ;  to  Mr.  W about  his 

1  The  cast  of  the  principal  characters  in  the  Tempest  as  brought  out  by  Macready, 
was:  Alonzo,  Mr.  Warde;  Sebastian,  Mr.  Piddear;  Prospero,  Mr.   Macready; 
Antonio,  Mr.  Phelps ;   Ferdinand,   Mr.   Anderson;   Caliban,   Mr.   G.   Bennett; 
Trinculo,  Mr.  Harley ;  Stephano,  Mr.  Bartley ;  Miranda,  Miss   Helen  Faucit ; 
Ariel,  Miss  P.  Horton  ;  Iris,  Mrs.  Serle ;  Juno,  Miss  Kainforth.     The  music  was 
selected  from  the  works  of  Purcell,  Linlcy,  and  Dr.  Arne.  —  ED. 

2  In  a  new  piece  called  Jealousy.  —  ED. 


1838.  "  RICHELIEU."  443 

probable  arrest,  of  which  I  had  been  apprised  by  Notter.  Would  not 
permit  the  sheriff's  officer  to  enter  the  theater,  nor  would  I  consent 
to  Mr.  W 's  request  to  let  him  through  the  private  boxes. 

17th.  — My  cold  very  bad ;  kept  to  my  bed  till  time  to  dress  for  the 
theater.  Went  twice  over  Ruthven.  Marked  and  arranged  it  in  my 
own  mind  for  Haynes's  alteration.  Acted  Claude  Melnotte  pretty 
well,  considering  my  cold.  Called  for  and  well  received  by  the  audi- 
ence. Business  after  the  play.  Hastened  home,  and  to  bed. 

18th.  —  Lay  in  bed,  suffering  from  severe  cold.  Cut  the  play  of 
"  The  Foresters  "  and  took  it  with  me  to  the  theater  ;  superintended 
the  rehearsal  till  I  could  stay  no  longer.  Saw  Serle,  Willmott,  Bry- 
done,  etc.,  on  business.  Was  obliged  to  lie  down,  and  think  of 
Othello,  to  which  my  cold  rendered  me  very  unequal.  Acted  it  pretty 
well,  and  was  called  for  by  the  audience  and  warmly  received.  Went 
home  and  took  a  warm  bath. 

l$th.  —  Put  leeches  on  my  throat,  and  whilst  they  were  adhering 
read  the  romantic  play  translated  by  Mrs.  Sloman,  which  promises 
very  well.  Rose,  and  went  to  the  theater,  where  I  gave  great  atten- 
tion to  the  rehearsal  of  the  "  Foresters."  Saw  throughout  the  play  of 
the  "Foresters,"  which  was  most  excellently  got  up  —  not  altogether 
acted  to  my  satisfaction,  but  generally  it  went  well,  but  only  well. 

20th.  —  Chest  indisposed.  Went  to  the  theater  :  attended  to  the 
rehearsal  of  "  Jealousy  ;  "  afterwards  to  business  with  Marshall  about 
the  pantomime.  Consulted  with  Serle,  Willmott,  Robertson,  Brydone. 
Tired.  Not  well.  Went  over  part  of  Prospero,  and  slept  a  little  in 
my  room.  Acted  it :  how  can  I  act  at  all  ?  Called  for  by  the  au- 
dience ;  led  on  Miss  P.  Horton.  Farce  of  "  Jealousy "  went  fairly. 
Four  or  five  base  wretches,  at  the  most,  tried  to  get  up  a  row  against 
it ;  I  would  not  succumb  to  it,  but  sent  on  Mr.  VandenhofF,  who  gave 
it  out  very  triumphantly. 

22d.  —  My  throat  very  much  irritated,  myself  fevered,  not  knowing 
what  to  do  about  playing  to-night :  sent  a  note  to  Dr.  Elliotson  for 
prescription.  Looked  at  the  papers.  Mr.  Pope  called,  strongly  rec- 
ommended me  not  to  play.  Wrote  a  note  to  Serle  to  provide  a  substi- 
tute in  VandenhofF  or  Elton.  Humphries  not  having  returned,  could 
not  send  it,  and  feeling  a  little  better  resolved  to  play.  Read  "  Ham- 
let," and  slept.  Rose  and  went  to  the  theater ;  my  table  covered  with 
notes  and  papers  ;  could  not  open  one,  except  the  box  account,  which 
I  found  very  nearly  as  good  as  last  Monday.  Acted  as  well  as  my 
weakness  would  let  me  ;  was  called  for,  and  loudly  received. 

24th.  —  Letter  from  Bulwer  informing  me  that  he  had  made  out  the 
rough  sketch  of  a  play,  an  historical  comedy  on  the  subject  of  Richelieu. 
I  answered  him,  delighted  at  the  news. 

November  5th.  —  Acted  Macbeth  pretty  well ;  was  called  for  and  well 
received.  Looked  at  some  of  the  scenes  of  this  play.  The  putting  of 
this  tragedy  on  the  stage  is  perfectly  beautiful,  it  is  what  every  one 
should  go  to  see  —  they  will  never  see  it  again. 

1th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  business,  as  usual,  awaited  me. 


444  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1838. 

Looked  at  part  of  "  Royal  Oak  "  on  the  stage.  Held  a  council  of 
Bradwell,  Marshall,  and  Young  on  the  scene  effects  of  the  panto- 
mime ;  they  assented  to  the  things  proposed,  and  are  to  bring  sketches 
on  Saturday. 

8th.  —  I  slept  for  weariness.  Acted  Prospero  pretty  well  ;  was 
called  for,  and  well  received.  Forster  came  into  my  room  and  pro- 
posed on  the  part  of  Dickens  the  dramatization  of  "  Oliver  Twist," 
with  Dickens's  name.  Nothing  can  be  kinder  than  this  generous  in- 
tention of  Dickens,  but  I  fear  it  is  not  acceptable. 

9th.  —  Looked  to  the  newspapers,  and  read  over  the  part  of  Ruth- 
ven,  which  I  fear  I  cannot  make  sufficiently  effective.  Uneasy  about 
it,  and  the  difficulty  in  which  the  want  of  strong  novelty  places  us. 
Forster  sent  me  the  volumes  of  "  Oliver  Twist,"  which  I  looked  care- 
fully through  —  occupied  me  more  than  the  whole  day. 

10th. —  Forster  and  Dickens  called;  and  told  them  of  the  utter  im- 
practicability of  "  Oliver  Twist "  for  any  dramatic  purpose.  Had  a 
long  consultation  about  the  expediency  of  choosing  "  Rizzio  "  or  "  Ma- 
rino Faliero."  Could  not  decide. 

llth.  —  Read  the  death  of  Rizzio  to  Catherine  and  Letty :  the  effect 
was  heaviness  and  tediousness.  Wightwick,  Browning,  and  G.  Buck- 
nill  dined  with  us. 

1 2th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  the  rehearsal  of  the  "  Royal 
Oak  "  was  going  on.  I  could  not  attend  to  it,  being  occupied  with  the 
discussion  and  consideration  of  what  was  to  be  done  in  the  case  of  the 
play  of  the  death  of  Rizzio.  Serle  took  it  to  read,  and  I  wrote  to 
Haynes,  appointing  him  to  call  and  talk  of  it  to-morrow.  Serle  gave 
his  opinion  that  it  could  not  succeed,  and  that  the  author  ought  to  re- 
write. Lay  down,  wearied,  and  slept ;  could  not  think.  After,  Bulwer 
called,  and  promised  to  send  his  play  of  "  Richelieu"  up  to  Cumberland 
Terrace.  Acted  Macbeth  but  indifferently,  not  altogether  well ;  was 
called  for  by  the  audience  and  well  received ;  but  must  be  careful. 
Found  Bulwer's  play  at  home ;  sat  up  till  half  past  two  to  read  it.  ' 

14th.  —  Read  the  two  acts  of  Jerrold's  play,  with  which  I  was  much 
pleased.  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater,  and  attended  to  the  re- 
hearsal of  the  "  Royal  Oak  ; "  gave  much  attention  to  it.  Spoke  with 
Serle  about  Jerrold,  and  gave  him  an  order  for  £50  upon  his  play. 
Spoke  to  Marshall  about  models  for  pantomime. 

15th.  —  Read  greater  part  of  Bulwer's  play  of"  Richelieu,"  which, 
though  excellent  in  parts,  is  deficient  in  the  important  point  of  con- 
tinuity of  interest.  I  should  also  say  that  the  character  is  not  "  serva- 
tits  ad  imum." 

Acted  Prospero  very  feebly  and  ineffectively.  Was  called  for  and 
well  received.  Serle,  Robertson,  and  Brydone  came  into  my  room 
and  remained  long,  speaking  of  what  was  to  be  done.  Henrietta 
Skerritt  was  with  Catherine  —  took  her  home.  At  home  read  some 
scenes  in  the  latter  part  of  "  Richelieu,"  which  are  not  effective.  I 
fear  the  play  will  not  do  —  cannot  be  made  effective. 

IGth.  — Mr.  Moultrie,  of  Shrewsbury,  called,  and  gave  me  a  very 


1838.  »  BULWER'S  "RICHELIEU."  445 

friendly  invitation  to  his  house  in  Worcestershire.  Afterwards  read 
"  Richelieu  "  to  Catherine  and  Letitia,  making  short  notes,  and  sug- 
gesting alterations  as  I  went  along.  Went  to  theater,  where  I  opened 
notes  ;  gave  them  for  answers.  Settled  with  Mr.  Anderson  for  "  Ion," 
for  next  Friday.  Query  —  Will  Talfourd  be  pleased  or  displeased  ? 
Signed  the  bills  of  the  week. 

\lth.  —  Called  on  Bulwer,  and  talked  over  the  play  of  "  Richelieu." 
He  combated  my  objections,  and  acceded  to  them,  as  his  judgment 
swayed  him  ;  but  when  I  developed  the  object  of  the  whole  plan  of 
alterations  he  was  in  ecstasies.  I  never  saw  him  so  excited,  several 
times  exclaiming  he  was  "  enchanted  "  with  the  plan,  and  observed, 
in  high  spirits,  "  What  a  fellow  you  are  !  "  He  was  indeed  delighted. 
I  left  him  the  play,  and  he  promised  to  let  me  have  it  in  a  week  ! 
He  is  a  wonderful  man.  Left  him  to  go  to  the  theater,  where  I 
caught  the  new  piece  l  in  rehearsal,  which  I  did  not  much  like.  Mr. 
Scharf  2  called,  to  whom  I  gave  the  freedom  of  the  theater,  to  encour- 
age him  as  an  artist. 

18th.  —  Sir  E.  Bulwer  called,  and  showed  me  two  scenes,  good 
ones,  that  he  had  already  written.  Settled  the  plot  of  the  remainder. 

20th.  —  Read  "  Cinq  Mars  "  in  bed.  Letters  from  Mrs.  Jameson 
warmly  complimenting  me  on  my  revival  of  the  "  Tempest." 

21  st.  —  Sent  back  "  Cinq  Mars,"  with  a  note  of  invitation  to  Bulwer. 
Read  a  short  account  of  Richelieu  in  D'Israeli.  Bulwer  called,  bring- 
ing with  him  the  completed  "  Richelieu."  Seemed  glad  to  come  here 
on  Sunday. 

22d.  —  Thought  over  "  Richelieu  "  —  do  not  yet  see  my  way  into  it. 
Marked  the  first  act  for  cutting,  snatched  a  hasty  dinner,  and  went  to 
the  theater.  Saw  Serle  on  his  business  of  William  Tell  ;  sent  a  note 
to  Mrs.  Talfourd,  with  a  private  box  for  Friday  night.  Rooke  called 
with  the  libretto  of  his  opera.  Robertson  read  and  marked  the  second 
act  of  "  Richelieu."  Very  much  fatigued.  Note  of  thanks  from 
Chantrey.  Brydone  on  business.  Slept  for  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.  Acted  Prospero  feebly.  Called  for  and  well  received  by  the 
audience. 

23d.  —  Thought  over  "  Richelieu  "  before  I  rose.  Read  and  marked 
the  third  act.  Went  to  theater,  reading  "  Richelieu  "  by  the  way.  Re- 
ceived notes  from  Dr.  Elliotson  inviting  me  to  an  exhibition  of  phe- 
nomena in  animal  magnetism  on  Sunday  next  :  he  is  infatuated  on 
this  subject.  Business  with  Cooke  and  Serle  ;  with  Knowles,  settling 
what  was  undetermined  in  "  William  Tell  ;  "  with  Marshall,  settling  the 
remaining  scenes  of  "  William  Tell  ;  "  with  Brydone,  signing  the  bills 
for  the  week. 

Read  and  cut  the  fourth  act  of  "  Richelieu."     Went   to 


1  A  farce,  called  Chaos  is  Come  again,  or  the  Race  Ball.  —  ED. 

2  Mr.  George  Scharf,  whose  early  production,  under  the  modest  title  of  Recol- 
lections of  the  Scenic  Effects  of  Covent  Garden  Theater  during  the  Season  1838-39, 
gives  an  admirable  notion  of  the  scenery  and  stage  grouping  of  the  plays  produced 
under  Macready's  management  at  Covent  Garden  Theater.  —  ED. 


446  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  +  1838. 

theater,  reading  "  Richelieu,"  and  attended  to  the  rehearsal  of  the 
"  Agreeable  surprise." 

26th.  —  Went  to  the  theater :  business  with  Serle,  with  Wilmott,  etc. 
Marshall  came  in  on  business.  Read  over  lago,  but  this  labor  of  man- 
agement, this  labor  engrossing  all  one's  time  and  thought,  one's  board 
and  pillow,  is  incompatible  with  success  and  improvement  in  my  art. 
I  acted  lago  ill. 

27th.  —  Wrote  to  Bulwer  in  answer  to  his  note,  expressing  to  him 
how  foremost  in  my  consideration  was  his  reputation  ;  that  his  play 
would  have  been  valuable  from  any  other  person,  but  that  it  would 
not  serve  his  interest,  whether  in  reference  to  his  literary  fame,  his 
station,  or  his  political  position.  Acted  Prospero  rather  better  than  I 
hav£  lately  done,  but  was  not  called  on.  Bulwer  came  into  my  room, 
and  in  a  very  warm  manner  expressed  himself  most  gratified  with  my 
note,  and  much  obliged.  He  sat  and  talked  about  "  Richelieu,"  and 
left  me  the  note  (a  very  valuable  one)  that  he  had  written  to  me. 

2Sth.  —  Rehearsal  of  "  William  Tell ;  "  spoke  to  Read  about  dresses, 
to  Young  about  the  pantomime,  several  scenes  of  which  I  read,  dis- 
approving of  some  reflecting  on  the  Queen's  partiality  to  foreigners 
and  Lord  Melbourne's  stay  at  Windsor. 

30th.  —  Acted  Werner,  not  by  any  means  to  my  own  satisfaction. 
The  incessant  occupation  of  my  mind  in  the  management  does  not 
allow  me  to  do  justice  to  my  acting.  I  was  extremely  displeased  with 
myself,  although  the  general  opinion  would  have  induced  me  to  think 
differently ;  but  I  know  when  I  act  with  truth,  energy  and  finish. 
Was  called  for,  and  very  warmly  received. 

J)ecember  Gth.  —  Gave  the  whole  morning  to  compressing  and  cor- 
recting the  pantomime.  Wrote  to  the  editor  of  the  "  Weekly  Dis- 
patch," striking  that  paper  off  the  free  list. 

Stk  —  Note  from  Bulwer  with  his  play,  which  1  read  :  it  is  greatly 
improved,  but  still  not  quite  to  the  point  of  success. 

10th.  —  Wrote  notes  of  invitation  to  Browning,  Fox,  Rintoul,  Wal- 
lace, H.  Smith,  Blanchard,  asking  them  to  dine  and  hear  Bulwer's  play 
on  Sunday. 

14th. — Acted  William  Tell  as  well  as  I  could,  suffering  from  low 
spirits.  Was  called  for  and  very  well  received  by  the  audience.  Henry 
Smith  came  into  my  room  and  sat  for  some  time. 

1  Qth.  —  Attended  to  my  accounts,  and  then  gave  the  whole  morning 
to  the  conclusion  of  the  marking  of  "  Richelieu."  Henry  Smith  and 
Serle  called  first,  then  Browning,  Fox,  Blanchard,  and  Lane  to  hear 
the  reading  of  the  play.  I  told  them  that  no  one  must  speak  during 
the  process,  gave  pencils  and. paper  to  each,  with  which  they  were 
severally  to  write  down  their  opinions.  The  play  was  listened  to  with 
the  deepest  interest,  and  the  opinions,  all  of  which  were  favorable, 
were  given  in.  I  then  spoke  to  them  individually  and  endeavored 
to  gain  their  precise  opinions  more  in  detail.  Mrs.  Serle,  Miss  P. 
Horton,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  P.  Cooke,  Mr.  Vining,  and  Mr.  Sloman  came 
afterwards  to  dinner ;  spent  a  cheerful  evening ;  music  afterwards. 
Wrote  an  account  of  the  result  to  Bulwer. 


1838.  BIRTH  OF  A  SON.  447 

18th. —  Looked  through  the  plays  of  Shakespeare  to  discover  if  any 
others  could  be  available  for  revival.  Decided  that  "  King  Richard 
III.,"  and  afterwards,  perhaps,  "  King  Henry  V."  were  the  only  ones. 
Looked  at  Schlesrel's  remarks  on  Richard.  Read  through  and  consid- 

o  o 

erably  reduced  the  .new  drama  to  be  read  to-morrow. 

Went  to  Covent  Garden.  Acted  Prospero  languidly.  Was  called 
for  and  well  received.  Looked  through  the  whole  list  of  plays  to  dis- 
cover some  that  might  be  made  serviceable  ;  found  very,  very  few,  and 
those  of  very  little  promise.  Remained  after  all  were  gone  to  see  the 
effects  of  two  of  the  scenes  in  the  Diorama  —  was  disappointed  in 
them.  They  will  not  answer  the  expectation  I  had  formed  in  pro- 
posing their  execution,  and  they  make  me  apprehensive  of  the  effects 
of  the  pantomime. 

19th. —  Received  a  letter  from  Bulwer,  one  that  is  an  honor  to  the 
writer.  Went  to  the  theater,  saw  Miss  Taylor,  and  read  the  new 
drama  to  the  actors.  Spoke  to  Marshall  about  the  scenes  of  last  night, 
and  to  Bradwell.  Business  with  Brydon,  Robertson,  etc.  Acted  Wil- 
liam Tell  better  than  I  have  yet  done ;  was  called^  for  and  well  re- 
ceived by  the  audience.  Henry  Smith  called  about  my  age,  etc.,  for 
the  Equitable  Insurance. 

20th.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater  ;  on  my  way  continued  the 
perusal  of  Mrs.  Butler's  play,  which  is  a  work  of  uncommon  power. 
Finished  the  reading  of  Mrs.  Butler's  play,  which  is  one  of  the  most 
powerful  of  the  modern  plays  I  have  seen  —  most  painful,  almost 
shocking,  but  full  of  power,  poetry,  and  pathos.  She  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  women  of  the  present  day.  A  son  born.1 

22d. —  Attended  to  the  rehearsal  of  the  pantomime  and  general 
business.  H.  Smith  called :  I  sent  him,  through  Head,  the  dresses  he 
wanted  for  his  charades.  Spoke  to  Bradwell  about  the  scene  on 
Naval  affairs,  which  is  impracticable  at  this  late  stage  of  our  proceed- 
ings. Acted  Prospero  languidly  ;  was  called  for  by  the  audience,  and 
well  received.  After  the  play,  began  to  make  out  the  pantomime  bill. 
Asked  Serle,  Willmott,  and  Brydone  to  sup  with  me,  which  they  did  ; 
after  supper  continued  the  bill,  and  saw  the  scenes  of  the  Duomo  and 
the  Exchange.2  Forster,  Dickens,  and  Cattermole  were  at  the  theater. 
Came  home  very  late,  and  saw  dearest  Catherine. 

23d.  —  Looked  through  the  unused  plays  of  Shakespeare  for  ce- 
menting lines  for  the  "  Richard  III."  Revised  the  second  proof  of  the 
pantomime. 

24th.  —  Left  dear  Catherine  and  went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater, 
where  I  found  Forster,  Dickens,  and  Browning,  who,  with  Fonblanque, 
came  to  see  what  I  would  gladly  have  been  excused  from,  the  re- 
hearsal of  the  pantomime.  I  remained  attending  to  it  from  eleven 

1  Henry  Frederick  Bulwer,  died  12th  August,  1857.  — ED. 

2  In  the  Pantomime,  which  had  a  Diorama  of  events  in  the  years  1837-38,  in- 
cluding the  interior  of  the  Duomo  at  Milan  during  the  coronation  of  the  Emperor 
of  Austria,  and  a  view  of  the  ruins  of  the  Royal  Exchange,  destroyed  by  fire,  10th 
January,  1838. — ED. 


418  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1839. 

o'clock,  the  hour  of  my  arrival,  to  twenty  minutes  past  eight.  To- 
wards the  close  it  appeared  in  a  state  so  utterly  desperate,  that  I  had 
the  carpenters,  etc.,  etc..  into  my  room  to  give  me  information  respect- 
ing my  contemplated  alteration  of  the  play-bill.  Discovering  the 
cause  of  their  difficulty,  I  made  arrangements  for  easing  them,  and  so 
fur  relieved  the  pantomime  from  so  much  cause  of  fear ;  but  there  is 
not  in  its  execution,  whatever  may  be  its  fortune,  justice  done  to  the 
lavish  expenditure  which  has  been  made  for  it. 

25th. —  Returning  home  found  a  letter  from  Mr.  Kenneth,  as  agent, 
offering  me  half  the  house  for  six  nights,  or  £400  for  a  fortnight  at 
Birmingham  in  Lent.  A  present  of  game  from  George  Bucknill. 

26th.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater,  and  rehearsed  Hastings  ; 
then  giving  my  attention  to  the  pantomime  until  twenty  minutes  past 
five  o'clock.  Acted  Lord  Hastings  indifferently  —  my  mind  was  on 
the  pantomime.1  The  pantomime  completely  failed.  What  will  be 
the  result  I  cannot  guess  —  it  will  go  near  to  ruin  me.  It  is  a  terrible 
blow. 

27th.  —  Went,  to  Covent  Garden  Theater ;  on  my  way  looked 
through  the  often-searched  Shakespeare  for.  some  play.  Thought  of 
"  King  Henry  V.,"  with  the  choruses  to  be  spoken  by  Vandenhoff. 
Attended  to  the  pantomime,  which  I  cut,  and  set  the  performers  and 
the  carpenters  about.  Serle,  when  I  suggested  "  Henry,"  observed 
that  the  choruses  would  admit  of  illustration,  a  hint  which  I  instantly 
caught  at,  and  determined  upon  doing  it.  Attended  to  the  perform- 
ance of  the  pantomime,  which  went  off  very  smoothly.  Afterwards 
arranged  business  for  rehearsing  it. 

29th.  —  Spoke  to  Robertson  about  the  state  of  our  cash  account : 
found  that  all  was  smooth,  with  the  exception  of  the  money  advanced, 
£950. 

30th.  —  Talked  with  Letitia  over  "  King  Henry,"  explaining  to  her 
how  I  would  produce  it.  Resolved  to  defer  it  to  Easter,  and  make  it 
the  last  Shakespearian  revival  of  my  management.  Wrote  to  Mr. 
Powell,  thanking  him  for  his  dedication  of  an  edition  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  to  me. 

1839. 

London,  January  1st.  — Paid  to  Robertson,  to  be  returned  to  the 
lenders  of  the  money,  £950,  the  amount  of  loss  up  to  this  date. 

5th.  —  Read  Bulwer's  play  of  "  Richelieu  "  to  the  actors,  and  was 
most  agreeably  surprised  to  find  it  excite  them  in  a  very  extraordinary 
Tianner.  The  expression  of  delight  was  universal  and  enthusiastic. 

Read  a  very  strange  note  from  some  woman,  threatening  to  destroy 
herself  for  love  of  me !  The  ugly  never  need  despair  after  this.  An- 
swered it  shortly.  Acted  Prospero  indifferently.  Stayed  to  see  the 
pantomime  with  Letitia — much  dissatisfied  with  it.  Bulwer  came  into 

1  The  title  was  Harlequin  and  Fair  Rosamond;  or,  Old  Dame  Nature  and  the 
Fairy  Art.  —  ED. 


1839.  LIFE  INSURANCE.  449 

our  box,  and  seemed  much  delighted  with  the  news  of  his  play's  re- 
ception. 

9th.  —  Brydone  afterwards  came  and  showed  me  the  account.  The 
pantomime  has  cost  £1,500 ! ! ! — just  £1,000  more  than  it  should  have 
cost,  and  more  than  it  appears  to  have  cost. 

llth.  —  Acted  Werner  very  unsatisfactorily.  I  am  really  deterio- 
rating from  the  surrendering  my  time  and  thought  to  the  management. 
It  distresses  me  to  think  of  it.  Was  called  for  and  well  received  by 
the  audience, 

12th. — To  Mrs.  Warner,  suggesting  to  her  the  part  of  Francois 
in  "  Richelieu."  It  seems,  however,  I  had  some  years  ago  recom- 
mended her,  as  a  woman,  not  to  wear  male  attire  at  all,  and  she 
has  scrupulously  adhered  to  my  advice,  and  now  resolutely  acted  on 
it.  I  did  not  press  the  point,  for  I  respected  her  grounds  of  objec- 
tion. 

Robertson  brought  me  the  cash  accounts  of  the  season,  which  makes 
us  about  £300  profit.  The  proprietors  are  the  gainers. 

16th.  —  Looked  at  the  newspaper,  and  went  to  Covent  Garden 
Theater.  Spoke  to  Marshall,  and  gave  him  prints  for  "  Richelieu." 
Went  to  the  Bank.  Received  my  own,  Edward's,  and  John  Twiss's 
dividends,  in  all  £49  4s.  I  could  not  help  making  the  reflection  as  I 
looked  at  the  numerous  books  of  names,  even  beginning  with  one  let- 
ter, what  a  cipher  every  individual  was,  and  how  little  in  that  mass 
of  property  and  persons  should  every  one  seem  to  himself  if  he  would 
but  take  into  account  the  drop  he  is  in  the  ocean  of  life  that  is  boiling 
and  surging  about  him. 

Called  at  Mr.  Knight's,  the  publisher,  Ludgate  Hill,  to  inquire 
about  the  "  Pictorial  Shakespeare."  Saw  Mr.  Knight,  who  was  very 
courteous,  promising  me  all  the  assistance  he  could  render  with  regard 
to  the  scenery  of  "  King  Henry  the  V."  He  told  me,  on  my  inquiry, 
that  the  editor  of  the  "  Pictorial  Shakespeare  "  had  sent  the  numbers 
to  me  from  himself.  He  was  very  courteous.  Called  at  Clarke  and 
Burton's,  and  requested  them  to  send  me  some  samples  of  claret;  on 

Henry  Smith,  who  paid  me  Lord  H 's  half-yearly  amount,  £67 

1  Os.,  and  spoke  to  me  on  the  subject  of  investments.  Went  on  to 
the  Equitable  Insurance  Office,  where  I  expressed  my  wish  to  insure 
my  life  for  £3,000.  Answered  the  necessary  questions,  was  treated 
very  courteously,  and  came  away  to  call  again  on  Henry  Smith.  Re- 
turned to  the  theater,  where  I  attended  to  business.  Spoke  to  Mr. 
Meadows  about  the  room  for  the  Fund,  which  I  am  disposed  to  let 
them  have.  Took  the  opportunity  to  expostulate  with  him  about  the 
stringent  law  in  the  Covent  Garden  Fund,  preventing  the  present 
members  of  the  company  from  entering  the  society,  particularly  that 
law  which  compels  an  actor  to  be  in  Covent  Garden  three  years.  He 
seemed  to  yield,  and  gave  me  to  understand  that  they  would  be  re- ' 
considered. 

20th. —  Received  from  Forster  a  copy  of  the   resolutions  passed 
by  the  meeting  of  friends  who  subscribed  the  £1,000  for  Covent  Gar- 
29 


450  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1839. 

den  Theater.  Most  kind  and  flattering  to  me.  Leader,  M.  P.,  in  the 
chair  —  Gaskell,  M.  P.,  mover  —  Osborne  seconder.  Read  in  "  King 
Lear  "  and  "  Anquetil." 

23c?.  —  Received  a  number  of  sketches  by  young  Scharf,  with  a 
letter,  wishing  to  dedicate  the  work  to  me. 

February  1st.  —  ( Queen's  visit.)  A  very  kind  no'e  from  Count 
D'Orsay,  inclosing  one,  most  kind  and  complimentary,  from  the  Comte 
de  Vigny. 

"  J'ni  tarde*  h,  te  rc"pondre,  cher  ami,  dans  1'espoir  de  pouvoir  deYanger  mcs 
affaires  de  maniere  a  me  rendre  a  ton  invitation,  mais  je  ne  le  pourrai  pas,  je  le 
vois  aujourd'hui.  II  me  faut  aller  dans  le  Berkshire,  et  je  ne  sais  pas  quel  jour  je 
reviendrai ;  mais  il  sera  dans  peu  de  temps.  En  revenant,  je  t'e"crirai  sur  le  champ, 
et  je  prendrai  un  matin  ou  nne  heure  pour  canser  avec  le  grand  tragedien,  que  j'ai 
admire  et  applaudi  (sans  qu'il  s'en  soit  donte)  dnns  presque  tons  les  grands  roles, 
et  dernierement  dans  la  "  Tempete."  II  sera  bien  beau  dans  "  Richelieu,"  et  j'aurai 
fteaucoup  a  lui  dire  de  cet  homme,  dont  j'ai  etc'  I'ennemi  intime  pendant  tout  le 
terme  que  j'ai  ecrit  "  Cinq  Mars."  Quand  on  attend  une  re'ponse  a  ma  porte,  je  snis 
au  supplice.  J'avais  bien  des  choses  a  te  dire  de  mon  amitie,  mais  j'irai  achever 
ma  phrase  en  t'embrassant,  A  toi  mille  fois, 

"ALFRED  DE  VIGXT." 

Acted  Claude  Melnotte  very  fairly. 

I  had  undressed,  and  was  preparing  to  put  on  my  court  suit,  when 
an  equerry  came  from  Her  Majesty  to  desire  me  to  go  on,  as  the  audi- 
ence were  calling  for  me.  I  did  not  know  what  to  do  — -  told  him, 
and  showed  him  that  I  was  quite  undressed,  but  that  I  would  do  what- 
ever Her  Majesty  desired.  He  left  me,  and  I  thought  it  better  to  put 
on  my  dress  again,  which  I  did,  and  receiving  a  second  message  from 
Her  Majesty,  went  on  as  Melnotte  before  the  audience,  and  met  with 
a  most  enthusiastic  reception,  Her  Majesty  and  the  Lord  Chamber- 
lain joining  in  the  applause.  Dressed  in  full  court  dress,  went  up  to 
see  Miss  Martineau,  and  then  into  Marianne  Skerrett's  box.  She  was 
delighted  to  see  me,  and  introduced  me  to  her  two  friends,  colleagues 
in  office  !  The  coulisses  were  crowded.  I  saw,  just  to  grasp  hands 
as  I  passed,  Fladgate,  R.  Price,  Warren,  Harris,  Browuing,  Forster, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  T.  Chitty,  C.  Barker  —  an  old  school-fellow,  to  whom 
I  had  given  a  card  in  the  morning  —  Fitzgerald,  Troughton,  etc. 
Went  into  the  ante-room  when  Her  Majesty  came  out.  Lord  Con- 
yngham  called  me  to  her,  and  she  condescended  to  say  "  I  have  been 
very  much  pleased."  I  bowed,  and  lighted  her  down.  Glad  to  con- 
clude a  day  that  has  been  very  wearying  to  me.  All  went  off  very 
satisfactorily. 

3d.  —  Answered  D'Orsay's  letter,  and  copied  Comte  de  Vigny's  note 
to  him. 

9/A.  —  Directed  the  rehearsal  of  "  Richelieu,"  which  occupied  me 
the  whole  morning. 

Heard  from  Mr.  Bunnett  that  the  Anti-Corn  Law  Committee  had 
decided  on  holding  their  meeting  at  Covent  Garden,  although  Drury 
Lane  was  offered  for  £50  less ! 

14<A.  —  The  Queen  and  Duchess  of  Kent  were  at  the  theater  to  see 


1839.  ALFRED  DE  VIGNY.  451 

the  .farce.     Lane  called  in  and  corrected  his  sketch  of  "  Ion."     Mr. 
Scharf  sent  me  another  number  of  his  "  Scenic  Recollections." 

1 6/A.  —  Went  to  Lady  Blessingtou's  with  Forster,  who  had  called 
in  the  course  of  the  day.  Met  there  Count  de  Vigny,  with  whom  I 
had  a  most  interesting  conversation  on  "  Richelieu."  I  made  an  ap- 
pointment with  him  to  see  him  on  Mardi  prochain.  Met  also,  with 
D'Orsay,  Bulwer,  Charles  Buller,  Lord  Durham,  who  was  very  cordial 
and  courteous  to  me,  Captain  Marryat,  who  wished  to  be  re-introduced 
to  me,  Hall,  Standish,  Chorley,  Greville,  who  wished  to  be  introduced 
to  me  also,  Dr.  Quin,  etc.  Passed  a  very  agreeable  two  hours. 

Mr.  Greville  told  a  story  of  Le  Kain  in  "  Mithridate."  When  some 
one  on  the  stage  observed,  "  II  changera  son  visage,"  one  in  the  par- 
terre exclaimed,  "  Laissez  le  faire." 

19<A.  —  Attended  to  business  with  Marshall,  who  engaged  to  have 
the  scenery  of  the  new  play  finished  on  Monday;  with  Brad  well  about 
the  armor  for  play ;  with  Serle  on  various  matters. 

Went  over  his  part  of  Mauprat  with  Mr.  Anderson  ;  afterwards  the 
part  of  Francois  with  Mr.  Howe ;  settled  dresses  with  Head,  and 
talked  on  business  with  Brydone. 

20th.  —  Gave  my  attention  to  the  consideration  of  the  character  of 
Richelieu,  which  Bulwer  has  made  particularly  difficult  by  its  incon- 
sistency :  he  has  made  him  resort  to  low  jest,  which  outrages  one's 
notions  of  the  ideal  of  Cardinal  Richelieu,  with  all  his  vanity,  and 
suppleness,  and  craft.  Finished  reading  his  history  and  character  in 
"  Anquetil,"  a  very  interesting  and  delightful  book.  Gave  the  livrai- 
sons  of  the  Galerie  de  Versailles  to  Letitia  to  be  sorted :  returned  to 
the  consideration  of  Cardinal  Richelieu  ;  went  over  the  part,  to  ascer- 
tain what  I  knew  of  its  words,  to  Catherine  in  the  evening. 

21s/.  —  Walked  out,  and  called  on  Comte  de  Vigny:  sat  with  him 
very  long,  and  was  amply  repaid  for  the  time  I  gave.  He  related  to 
me  a  variety  of  anecdotes  illustrative  of  the  characters  of  Louis  XIII., 
Richelieu,  of  "  Cinq-Mars,"  etc.  He  is  an  enthusiast,  particularly  for 
dramatic  literature.  He  made  a  literal  translation  of  "  Othello,"  and 
produced  it  at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais.  He  spoke  with  fervor  of  my 
performances,  and  was  much  dissatisfied  with  our  custom  of  allowing 
women  to  frequent  our  pit,  because  the  sympathy  was  checked  by 
their  intervention.  He  spoke  like  a  poet,  and  with  all  the  power  and 
characteristic  effect  of  a  superior  actor.  I  was  very  much  pleased  with 
him. 

22e?.  —  Gave  my  attention  to  the  inquiry  as  to  the  possibility  of 
reconciling  the  character  which  Bulwer  has  drawn  under  the  name  of 
Cardinal  Richelieu  with  the  original,  from  which  it  so  entirely  differs. 
Was  not  much  cheered  by  the  result  of  my  investigation  and  exper- 
iment. Mr.  Elton  called  by  appointment,  and  I  spoke  to  him  about 
the  manner  in  which  he  had  rehearsed  the  part  of  Louis  XIII.  I 
read  him  various  extracts  from  "  Anquetil "  and  "  Cinq  Mars,"  to  show 
him  the  weak  and  nervous  character  of  Louis,  of  which  he  knew 
nothing,  nor  would  he  have  known  anything.  He  went  away  seem- 
ingly more  at  ease  about  his  part  than  he  came. 


452  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1839. 

25tk.  —  Acted  King  Lear,  not  to  my  own  satisfaction,  though  I  was 
called  for,  and  very  warmly  received  by  the  audience.  Bulvver  and 
Forster  came  into  my  room,  and  afterwards  the  Comte  de  Vigny^  who 
expressed  himself  much  pleased  with  the  play.  Bulwer  spoke  to  me 
about  Richelieu,  and  satisfied  me  on  the  justice  of  his  draft  of  the 
character  from  the  evidence  that  history  has  given  us.  Allans  done  a 
la  gloire. 

March  2d. —  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater,  where  I  rehearsed 
"  Richelieu."  Paid  constant  attention  to  the  progress  of  the  play, 
and  thought  it  wore  an  improved  appearance. 

Mr.  J.  Vining  called  at  the  theater  in  the  course  of  the  morning  to 
inquire  if  I  intended  to  act  on  Wednesday,1  as  they  would  do  so  at 
Drury  Lane,  and  if  I  did  the  same  that  Madame  Vestris  would.  I 
said  certainly  not,  that  while  the  law  existed,  though  I  condemned,  I 
thought  it  more  graceful  to  obey  than  to  infringe  it. 

3d.  —  My  birthday  —  forty-six  years  of  age. 

4th.  —  Rose  ;  not  well.  Looked  at  the  newspaper,  in  which  I  saw 
the  notice  of  Mr.  Bunn's  intention  to  play  on  the  Wednesdays  and 
Fridays  in  Lent.  Gave  my  attention  to  "  Richelieu."  Dined  with 
the  children.  Henrietta  Skerrett  called,  and  I  wrote  a  note  for  her 
to  give  to  Henry  Slater  that  he  might  deliver  it  to  Shell,  asking  his 
interest  with  Lord  Morpeth.  Wrote  to  Willmott,  to  Warde,  inclosing 
to  him  Bulwer's  remarks.  Wallace  called,  and  very  much  approved 
of  my  not  playing  on  the  Wednesdays  and  Fridays.  Resumed  "  Riche- 
lieu ; "  looked  over  the  children's  arithmetic.  Note  from  Bulwer 
with  alterations  that  are  not  improvements.  Note  from  Miss  Rolls, 
wishing  to  call  on  Catherine  ;  answered  it,  expressing  my  satisfaction 
at  such  a  Compliment.  Returned  to  "  Richelieu ; "  received  the  bill 
from  Covent  Garden,  in  which  Sir  E.  L.  Bulwer's  name  is  announced 
as  the  author  of  the  new  play. 

1th.  —  Lay  in  bed  thinking  over  my  part  of  Richelieu  until  time  to 
rise.  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater.  Rehearsed  the  play,  and  at- 
tended to  the  needful  business  in  the  wardrobe  with  Griffiths,  etc. 

Acted  Cardinal  Richelieu2  very  nervously  ;  lost  my  self-possession, 
and  was  obliged  to  use  too  much  eifort ;  it  did  not  satisfy  me  at  all, 
there  were  no  artist-like  touches  through  the  play.  How  can  a  person 
get  up  such  a  play  and  do  justice  at  the  same  time  to  such  a  charac- 
ter ?  It  is  not  possible.  Was  called  for  and  very  enthusiastically  re- 
ceived ;  gave  out  the  play  for  every  night.  The  success  of  the  play 
seemed  to  be  unequivocal.  What  will  the  papers  say  ? 

14th.  —  Read  over  "Richelieu."     Acted  the  part  very  fairly  ;  was 

1  At  this   time   there   were   no   theatrical    performances  on  Wednesdays  and 
Fridays  in  Lent  at  the  London  theaters  under  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  jurisdic- 
tion. —  ED. 

2  The  principal  parts  in  Richelieu  were  cast  as  follows  :  Louis  XIII.,  Mr.  Elton; 
Gaston,  Mr.  Diddear ;  Richelieu,  Mr.  Macready  ;  Baradas,  Mr.  Warde  ;  Mauprat, 
Mr.  Anderson  ;  De  Beringhen,  Mr.  Vining  ;  Father  Joseph,  Mr.  Phelps  ;  Huguet, 
Mr.   George  Bennett ;  Fran9ois,  Mr.   Howe ;  Julie  de  Mortcmar,   Miss  Helen 
Faucit ;  Marion  de  Lorme,  Miss  Charles.  —  ED. 


1839.  SHAKESPEARE  CLUB  DINNER.  453 

called  for  and  well  received.  The  Queen  was  in  the  theater.  De 
Vigny  came  round  after  the  play  and  expressed  himself  delighted.  He 
said  he  would  write  to  me  from  Paris,  and  would  come  over  to  see 
Shakespeare's  plays  acted ;  he  could  not  dine  with  me  as  he  was  leav- 
ing town. 

1  Qth.  —  Went  to  Babbage's  conversazione,  where  I  saw  Faraday, 
Wilkie,  Chantrey,  Hawes,  who  told  me  that  the  House  gave  me  a 
lusty  cheer  on  the  occasion  of  Lord  John  Russell's  mention  of  my 
name.1  Babbage  showed  me  a  very  curious  machine  to  mark  on  paper 
the  velocity  of  a  steam-carriage,  etc.,  its  shakings  both  vertical  and 
horizontal :  also  an  effect  of  the  sun's  rays  on  glass  laid  over  a  certain 
composition,  which  gives  shade  all  round  the  object  placed  between  the 
glass  and  composition.  Sidney  Smith,  Lord  Northampton,  Mrs.  Mar- 
cet,  I  also  saw.  Went  afterwards  to  Miss  Martineau's,  but  all  were 
gone,  and  I  brought  Catherine  home. 

25th.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Procter,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stanfield,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Dickens,  Mrs.  Reid,  Dowling,  Price,  Martins,  Etty,  Forster,  Rooke, 
Stone,  dined  with  us ;  a  cheerful  day. 

2Qth. —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blanchard,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lough,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  H.  Smith,  Messrs.  E.  Webbe,  Z.  Troughton,  Mr.  and  Miss  Pope, 
Mr.  Harley,  came  to  dine. 

27th.  —  Went  on  to  Cpvent  Garden  Theater,  where  I  superintended 
a  good  rehearsal  of  "  Lodoiska." 

Mr.  and  Miss  Rolls,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fonblanque,  Miss  Martineau, 
Mr.  Carlyle,  Dr.  Elliotson,  Charles  and  Arthur  Buller,  Browning, 
Darwin,  Miss  P.  Horton,  and  Mr.  Brockedon,  dined  with  us ;  an  agree- 
able day. 

23th. —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Horace  Twiss,  Mrs.  Kitchener,  Fanny  and 
Amelia  Twiss,  Barham,  Fladgate,  Munro,  Walker,  Cattermole,  Mac- 
lise,  dined  with  us. 

2Sth. — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kenney,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Serle,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
T.  Cooke,  Forster,  Wallace,  Vining,  Anderson,  Jerdan,  came  to  dinner. 

30th.  —  Went  to  dine  at  the  Shakespeare  Club.  Dickens  was  in  the 
Chair,  Jerdan  and  Blanchard,  the  two  Vice-Presidents,  Procter,  Stan- 
field,  Leigh  Hunt,  Maclise,  Cattermole,  Jerrold,  Thackeray,  Lover, 
Charles  Landseer,  T.  Landseer,  Dow,  Stone,  Forster,  King,  T.  Hill, 
Bell,  Harley  invited,  and  about  twenty  more  sat  down  to  dinner.  The 
day  passed  off  most  agreeably  ;  the  dinner  was  very  handsome,  songs 

1  On  the  previous  Monday  (llth  March,  183!),)  Mr.  T.  Buncombe  had  called 
the  attention  of  the  House  of  Commons  to  the  question  of  theatrical  entertainments 
in  Lent,  and  to  the  fact  that  a  letter  had  been  addressed  by  Mr.  Martins,  of  the 
Lord  Chamberlain's  office,  to  Mr.  Bunn,  as  lessee  of  Drury  Lane  Theater,  5th 
March,  reminding  him  that  oratorios  only  were  sanctioned  on  Wednesdays  and 
Fridays  in  Lent.  Mr.  Bunn  had  announced  plays  for  such  evenings  relying  upon 
a  resolution  of  the  House  of  Commons  previously  obtained  by  Mr.  T.  Duncombe 
in  condemnation  of  the  existing  restrictions  ;  and  Mr.  Duncombe  complained  that 
the  opinion  of  the  House  of  Commons  was  disregarded  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain's 
officials.  Lord  John  Russell,  then  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Home  Department, 
supported  the  authorities,  and  praised  Mr.  Macready  for  submitting  to  their  de- 
cision. —  Mirror  of  Parliament,  llth  March,  1839.  —  ED. 


454  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1839. 

well  selected.  One  song  immediately  after  the  health  of  my  dear  wife 
and  family,  "  Was  she  not  passing  fair  ?  "  was  very  sweet,  as  also  the 
"  Love  and  Glory."  The  most  hearty  sympathy  I  almost  ever  wit- 
nessed was  unbroken  through  the  evening.  I  was  obliged  to  remain 
until  the  business  of  the  day  was  done,  and  was  astonished  to  learn 
from  the  waiter  that  it  was  a  quarter  past  twelve.  I  set  Mr.  Harley 
down,  and  on  coming  home,  racked  with  headache  from  the  heat  of  the 
room,  reported  all  to  Catherine  and  Letty,  whilst  I  had  the  power  of 
remembering.  Dickens's  speech  in  proposing  my  health  was  most  ear- 
nest, eloquent,  and  touching.  It  took  a  review  of  my  enterprise  at 
Covent  Garden,  and  summed  up  with  an  eulogy  on  myself  that  quite 
overpowered  me.  In  reply  I  said,  "  That  in  expressing  the  peculiar 
gratification  of  such  a  compliment  from  a  society  met  to  do  honor  to 
Shakespeare,  I  disclaimed  all  credit  beyond  what  was  due  for  faithful 
service  to  him,  transferring  from  the  priest  to  the  object  of  their  adora- 
tion the  honor  they  offered.  I  had  no  claim  for  originating  or  creating  ; 
I  had  merely  removed  and  restored ;  was  only  the  purifier  of  the  temple, 
had  only  restored  to  its  sublime  simplicity  the  text  of  Shakespeare.  I 
said  that  I  must  ever  deeply  feel  the  obligations  they  had  conferred  on 
me ;  that  it  added  to  the  pleasure  I  felt,  to  know  that  among  those  willing 
to  contribute  their  sympathy  to  the  occasion,  I  might  reckon  my  excel- 
lent and  amiable  friend,  our  absent  President,  whose  genius  as  poet  and 
as  critic  had  shed  such  additional  luster  on  the  glories  of  our  dramatic 
literature  ;  to  see  presiding  on  this  day  my  highly  gifted  friend  Mr. 
Dickens ;  and  to  number  amongst  my  distinguished  hosts  the  poet, 
whose  youthful  muse,  when  just  "  waving  her  joyous  song,"  stooped 
from  the  nobler  flight  she  was  pursuing  to  bestow  a  wreath  upon  my 
then  unnoted  efforts  —  the  poet  whose  beautiful  dramatic  scenes,  then 
just  given  to  the  world,  induced  us  to  believe  that  the  sweet  and  bril- 
liant spirit  of  Fletcher,  which  we  had  thought  long  dead,  had  only 
been  sleeping.  With  so  much  to  enhance  the  pleasure  they  conferred 
upon  me,  I  could  not  adequately  convey  the  expression  of  my  feelings, 
but  I  requested  them  to  believe  that  I  thanked  them,  as  I  felt,  most 
fervently  and  most  deeply,  and  that  I  never  could  forget  their  kind- 
ness," etc.  I  sat  down  amid  loud  applause,  and  then  prepared  to  en- 
joy what  was  left  of  the  day.  Dickens  spoke  on  each  occasion  remark- 
ably well ;  dear  Stanfield  said  his  little  with  his  usual  modesty.  Mr. 
Bell  made  a  very  good  speech,  kindly  adverting  to  me.  Leigh  Hunt 
was  called  up,  being  an  honorary  member  and  guest  of  the  day,  and  in 
a  rambling,  conversational  style,  talked  of  what  Shakespeare  would 
think  if  he  could  walk  into  the  room  and  ask  on  what  man's  account 
all  this  festivity  and  sympathy  was  raised,  and  how  surprised  and 
pleased  he  would  be  to  learn  that  it  was  himself.  Jerdan  spoke  very 
well ;  Doo  the  engraver,  Forster ;  Stanfield  gave  Mrs.  Macready  and 
her  family,  and  I  answered  by  wishing  that  1  had  the  readiness  of  one 
of  them  who  would  be  delighted  to  be  there  (a  little  girl)  and  to  make 
a  speech  on  the  occasion.  I  rose  to  propose  Dickens's  health,  and 
spoke  my  sincere  opinion  of  him  as  the  highest  eulogy,  by  alluding  to 


1839.  DINNER  PARTIES— ELSTREE.  455 

the  verisimilitude  of  his  characters.  I  said  that  I  should  not  be  sur- 
prised at  receiving  the  offer  of  an  engagement  from  Crummies  for  the 
next  vacation.  All  went  off  in  the  happiest  spirit. 

April  3d.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater  ;  on  my  way  looked 
at  "  Marino  Faliero,"  with  a  view  to  its  production  for  my  benefit. 

7th.  —  Took  Willie  with  me,  and  called  on  Messrs.  Chalon  to  see 
their  pictures  ;  met  Mr.  Ward  there ;  went  on  and  called  on  Sir  D. 
Wilkie  ;  saw  his  sister  and  himself ;  the  picture  of  the  "  Highland 
Cotter's  Grave,"  "  The  Discovery  of  Tippoo  Sahib's  Body,"  etc.  Met 
Dickens  and  his  wife  there. 

9th.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  reading  Prospero.  Sent 
note  to  Staufield.  Business  with  Marshall.  Bourne  called,  and  went 
with  me  to  see  Etty's  pictures,  which  were  beautiful.  Etty  was  very 
glad  to  see  me.  Saw  Tom  Hill  there,  Serle,  and  Willmott.  Bry- 
done  on  business. 

14th.  —  Dined  with  Mrs.  Rolls;  met  an  agreeable  party.  Sir  W. 
and  Lady  Herries,  Mr.  Powell,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bohn,  and  Elliotson ; 
Etty,  Miss  Rolls,  etc. 

Sunday,  April  21st.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Serle,  Mr.  Stanfield,  Miss  P. 
Horton  came  to'dinner.  After  dinner  we  talked  over  the  choruses,  and 
settled  finally  the  commencement  of  our  operations  in  regard  to 
"  King  Henry  V." 

30th.  — Went  to  Elstree  in  the  carriage  with  Catherine  and  Willie  ; 
enjoyed  to  a  degree  I  cannot  describe  the  air,  the  freedom,  the  sight 
of  the  country,  and  the  old  familiar  objects  of  my  passage  to  and  from 
Elstree ;  it  was  luxury,  quiet,  ease,  content ;  it  was  happiness.  I 
could  only  liken  my  sensations  to  those  of  a  person  first  tasting  the 
fresh  and  genial  air  from  the  long  confinement  of  a  sick  room,  or  the 
captivity  in  a  prison.  It  was  delightful.  Surprised  to  find  Elstree, 
that  used  to  look  so  pretty,  now  appear  close,  flat,  shabby  !  Thus  we 
judge  of  all  things  in  this  world,  —  ah,  how  unwisely  !  —  by  compar- 
ison ;  the  glory  in  the  grass,  the  splendor  in  the  flower,  the  delicious 
breath  of  heaven,  and  its  gorgeous  vision  of  cloud,  and  star,  and  sun, 
are  everywhere  the  same. 

May  12th.  —  At  Sir  Edward  Bulwer's  —  Lords  Lansdowne,  Nor- 
manby,  Durham,  Comte  D'Orsay,  Colonel  Maberley,  Macaulay,  Lady 
Cork,  Mrs.  Maberley. 

14:th. —  Gave  up  the  whole  morning  to  the  arrangement  of  the 
dresses  for  "  King  Henry  V.,"  in  which  we  made  considerable  prog- 
ress. Business  with  Serle,  Head,  Brydone,  etc. ;  afterwards  with 
Stanfield  and  Marshall. 

15th.  —  In  the  evening  went  to  Lord  Nugent's,  where  I  met  Mrs. 
Norton,  Sir  F.  Chantrey,  Lover,  Sir  R.  Westmacott,  Westmacott,  Jr. 
Heard  Mrs.  Norton  sing  a  song  of  her  own,  most  touching,  most 
charming. 

IQth.  —  Gave  this  morning  to  the  rehearsal  of  "  King  Henry  V." 
Afterwards  attended  to  business  the  whole  afternoon.  Was  very 
much  fatigued,  and  could  with  difficulty  keep  my  eyes  open  to  read 


456  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1839. 

y  Claude  Melnotte."  I  find  my  memory  suffers  from  the  heavy  load 
that  is  laid  upon  my  mind.  Acted  Claude  Melnotte  very  fairly. 

20th.  —  Rehearsed  "  Ion,"  in  which  I  did  not  find  myself  at  all 
prepared  —  this  could  not  be  if  I  had  only  my  own  reputation  to  be 
careful  of.  All  things  tend  to  show  me  that  all  is  for  the  best,  and 
that  my  happiness  and  well-being  is  more  likely  to  be  insured  by  a 
good  income  as  an  actor  than  as  a  manager. 

June  3d.  —  The  last  night  (the  fifty-fifth)  of  the  "Tempest"  was 
crowded.  I  felt  quite  melancholy  as  we  approached  the  end  of  the 
play ;  it  had  become  endeared  to  me  from  success  and  the  benefit  it 
had  conferred  upon  my  undertaking.  I  acted  Prospero  as  well  as  I 
could,  and  was  called  for  and  well  received.  I  look  back  upon  its 
production  with  satisfaction,  for  it  has  given  to  the  public  a  play  of 
Shakespeare  which  had  never  been  seen  before,  and  it  has  proved  the 
charm  of  simplicity  and  poetry. 

Sth. —  Put  on  my  armor  for  King  Henry  V.,  and  moved  and  sat  in 
it  until  half-past  three  o'clock. 

Endeavored  to  master  some  difficulties  in  the  acting  of  King  Henry 
V.,  rehearsing  in  my  armor. 

10th.  —  Began  the  play  of  "  King  Henry  V."  l  in  a  very  nervous 
state,  but  endeavoring  to  keep  my  mind  clear.  Acted  sensibly  at 
first,  and  very  spiritually  at  last ;  was  very  greatly  received,  and  when 
called  on  at  last,  the  whole  house  stood  up  and  cheered  me  in  a  most 
fervent  manner.  I  gave  out  the  repetition  of  the  play  for  four  nights 
a  week  till  the  close  of  the  season.  Lord  Nugent,  Jerdan,  Forster, 
Browning,  Serle,  etc.,  came  into  my  room.  Catherine  and  Letitia 
were  there,  and  I  accompanied  them  back  to  Elstree  in  a  state  of  the 
greatest  excitement.  It  is  the  last  of  my  attempts  to  present  to  the 
audience  Shakespeare's  own  meaning. 

Elstree,  June  llth.  —  I  slept  very  little,  woke  early,  unrefreshed 
and  unequal  to  a  day  of  labor.  Rose  very  late,  saw  my  darling  chil- 
dren and  dined  with  them  ;  walked  in  the  garden  and  at  three  o'clock 

1  The  Covcnt  Garden  play-bill  of  10th  June,  1839,  contains  the  following  notice: 
"  In  announcing  this  last  Shakspearian  revival  it  may  be  advisable,  if  not  neces- 
sary, to  depart  so  far  from  the  usual  practice  of  this  management  as  to  offer  a  few 
words  in  explanation  or  apology  for  what  may  seem  an  innovation. 

"  The  play  of  King  Henry  V.  is  a  dramatic  history  and  the  poet,  to  preserve  the 
continuity  of  the  action,  and  connect  what  would  otherwise  be  detached  scenes,  has 
adopted  from  the  Greek  Drama  the  expedient  of  a  Chorus  to  narrate  and  describe 
intervening  incidents  and  events. 

"  To  impress  more  strongly  on  the  auditor,  and  render  more  palpable  those  por- 
tions of  the  story  which  have  not  the  advantage  of  action,  and  still  are  requisite  to 
the  drama's  completeness,  the  narrative  and  descriptive  poetry  spoken  by  the 
Chorus  is  accompanied  with  pictorial  illustrations  from  the  pencil  of  Mr.  Stan- 
field." 

The  cast  of  the  play  included  Mr.  Vandenhoff  as  the  Chorus,  Mr.  Elton  as  the 
Duke  of  Exeter,  Mr.  "Bartlev  as  Erpingham,  Mr.  Anderson  as  Captain  Gower,  Mr. 
Meadows  as  Flucllcn,  Mr.  Warde  as  Williams,  Mr.  Bedford  and  Mr.  Harley  as 
Bardolph  and  Pistol,  Miss  P.  Horton  as  their  Boy,  Mrs.  C.  Jones  as  Mrs.  Quickly, 
Mr.  G.  Bennett  as  the  King  of  France,  Mr.  Vining  as  the  Dauphin,  Mr.  Howe  as 
the  Duke  of  Orleans,  Mr.  Phelps  as  Charles  d'Albret,  and  Miss  Vandenhoff  as 
Katherine.  —  ED. 


1839.  SUCCESS  OF  "  THE  TEMPEST."  457 

returned  in  the  carriage  to  town,  Catherine  and  Letitia  accompanying 
me.  Was  quite  beaten  to  the  ground  by  fatigue,  I  may  say  exhaustion 
of  mind  and  body.  I  have  never  felt  a  heavier  weight  than  this  play 
has  been.  Thank  God  that  it  is  over,  and  so  well  over. 

London,  June  12th.  —  Serle  read  me  a  letter  from  myself  to  the 
Lord  Chamberlain,  asking  for  a  personal  license,  which  I  approved. 
I  lay  down  and  tried  to  compose  myself  to  read  or  think  of  "  King 
Henry  V. ; "  it  was  utterly  impossible.  I  acted  the  part.  My  God, 
what  a  state  to  be  in  to  act !  I  got  through  it,  was  called  for  and  well 
received. 

15^.  —  Dr.  Williamson  (the  Head  Master  of  Westminster)  and 
Mrs.  Williamson  called,  and  I  showed  them  the  dresses  for  '-Ion," 
etc.,  and  talked  with  them  over  the  costumes  of  Terence's  plays. 

16th.  —  Went  with  Catherine  to  Horace  Twiss's  to  dinner.  Met 
there  Sir  George  Grey,  T.  Hope,  Pemberton,  Herries,  B.  Disraeli, 
Miss  Herries,  Mrs.  Blackburn,  Mrs.  Wyndham  Lewis,  Bonham  Carter, 
etc. 

Disraeli  made  acquaintance  with  me,  and  told  me  a  good  story  of 
Hume.  Pemberton  renewed  our  acquaintance  formed  at  Rome  in 
1822.  I  found  that.  Daniel  Webster  had  called  upon  my  return  home. 

17th.  —  Daniel  Webster  called  and  sat  a  short  time.  He  seemed 
greatly  pleased  with  England. 

Settled  on  closing  the  theater,  July  IGth,  with  Willrnott.  I  am 
anxious  to  feel  free  of  it. 

ISth.  —  Went  out  to  breakfast  with  Harnes.  Met  there  besides 
his  sister,  Mrs.  Opie,  Miss  Rogers,  Dyce,  whom  I  like  very  much,  and 
Sir  W.  and  Lady  Chatterton.  Mr.  Kenyon  came  later.  I  passed  an 
agreeable  morning.  I  was  very  glad  to  hear  that  Dyce  had  seen .  all 
the  Shakespearian  revivals,  and  been  greatly  pleased  with  them. 

ISth.  —  Read  Henry  V.  and  rested,  having  again  tried  on  my  armor. 
Acted  King  Henry  V.  (I  think)  better  than  on  any  previous  occasion, 
but  was  not  called  for,  which  shows  the  actual  value  of  this  idle  com- 
pliment. 

20th.  — •  Brydone  came  in  and  spoke  about  accounts.  It  appears 
that  we  have  acted  "  The  Tempest "  fifty-five  nights  to  an  average  ex- 
ceeding £230.  This  is  not  a  common  event.  Acted  rather  languidly 
King  Henry  V. 

Came  to  Elstree  in  chaise. 

21  st.  — Came  to  town  in  a  chaise  that  seemed  to  have  hatched  all 
the  poultry  in  the  village  for  half  a  century  back.  I  was  ashamed  to 
be%  seen  in  such  a  thing,  and  slept  my  journey  to  town  away  in  it. 
The  driver  took  me  all  down  Regent  Street  to  Carlton  Place,  Pall 
Mall,  then  round  the  National  Gallery,  up  St.  Martin's  Lane,  through 
Long  Acre,  down  Bow  Street  to  the  stage-door,  Covent  Garden  Thea- 
ter. My  patience  was  quite  exhausted. 

22d.  —  Poor  Wallace's  death.  Another  friend,  a  faithful  and  affec- 
tionate one,  has  gone  from  me.  I  shall  never  see  him,  never  hear  again 
what  I  would  now  give  so  much  to  endure  —  his  prolixities,  his  im- 


458  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1839. 

portunt  nothings,  but  above  all  his  shrewd  and  sensible  observations 
where  action  and  conduct  were  needed.     Farewell !  farewell ! 
.    24.th.  —  I  thought  of  poor  Wallace,  as  we  passed  South  Bank.     He, 
as  having  given  away  Catherine,  would  have  been  our  guest  to-day. 

26th.  —  A  note  from  Miss  Herries,  whom  it  appears  I  had  disap- 
pointed yesterday.  I  answered  it,  sending  an  order  for  Friday. 

July  1st.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater.  Miss  Herries  and 
her  party  were  looking  over  the  theater,  and  wished  to  see  me.  They 
had  been  much  amused,  and  wished  to  thank  me.  Miss  Herries  gave 
me  a  small  copy  of  Casimir  Delavigne's  "  Louis  XI., "  which  I  had 
not  seen. 

2d.  —  Bulwer  called,  and  told  me  that  Lord  Lansdowne  was  very 
friendly  to  my  cause,  and  thought  my  request  would  be  granted  for  a 
license.  He  advised  me  to  apply  directly  to  Lord  Melbourne,  and 
that  he  would  also  move  Lord  Holland  and  Lord  John  Russell. 

3d.  —  Lord  Nugent  came  into  my  room  and  told  me  that  the  Duke 
of  Sussex  had  very  readily  agreed  to  take  the  Chair  at  the  dinner  to 
be  given  to  me,  which  he  proposed  for  the  20th,  to  which  I  assented. 

8th.  —  Read  the  newspapers.  Was  in  very  low  spirits  at  the  pros- 
pect in  the  box-office,  and  the  complete  silence  in  the  papers  upon  the 
dinner.  This  is  my  own  fault.  I  suffer  myself  to  be  so  elated  by  the 
mere  prospect  of  any  good,  that  I  exhaust  my  enjoyment  of  it  before 
it  arrives.  This  is  my  unhappy  want  of  mental  discipline  :  to  live  for 
the  present,  and  to  do  one's  duty  in  that  little  point  of  time,  enjoying 
all  it  brings,' is  the  best  wisdom. 

11th.  —  Was  in  a  tumult  of  excitement  which,  after  some  time,  I 
perceived  and  endeavored  to  subdue.  The  freedom  from  further 
responsibility  and  care,  the  honorable  mode  of  terminating  my  engage- 
ment with  the  performers,  the  flattering  testimonials  in  the  public 
reception  of  me,  and  in  the  compliment  offered,  are  altogether  enough 
to  interfere  with  the  sober  and  steady  course  of  any  man.  Prosper- 
ity is  most  intoxicating,  but  adversity  is  the  real  benefactor  of  man- 
kind. 

IGtk.  —  Tried  to  sleep  on  the  sofa  for  a  short  half  hour.  Rose  and 
prepared  to  play  in  a  very  depressed  condition.  My  reception  was  so 
great,  from  a  house  crowded  in  every  part,  that  I  was  shaken  by  it.  I 
acted  King  Henry  V.  better  than  I  had  yet  done,  and  the  house 
responded  to  the  spirit  in  which  I  played.  The  curtain  fell  amidst  the 
loudest  applause,  and  when  I  had  changed  my  dress,  I  went  before  the 
curtain,  and,  amidst  shoutings  and  waving  of  hats  and  handkerchiefs  by 
the  whole  audience  standing  up,  the  stage  was  literally  covered  with 
wreaths,  bouquets,  and  branches  of  laurel.  When  at  last,  the  dense 
mass  resumed  their  seats,  and  the  tumult  subsided  to  the  stillest  silence, 
I  began  my  address.  The  cheering  was  renewed  as  I  bowed  and 
left  the  stage,  and  as  I  passed  through  the  lane  which  the  actors  and 
people,  crowding  behind,  made  for  me,  they  cheered  me  also.  Forster 
came  into  my  room,  and  was  much  affected ;  Fox  was  quite  shaken ; 
Dickens,  Maclise,  Stanfield,  T.  Cooke,  Blanchard,  Lord  Nugent  (who 


1839.  PUBLIC  DINNER  TO  MACREADY.  459 

had  not  been  in  the  theatre),  Bulwer,  Hockley  of  Guildford,  Brown- 
ing, Serle,  Brydone,  Willmott,  came  into  my  room  ;  most  of  them 
asked  for  memorials  from  the  baskets  and  heaps  of  flowers,  chaplets, 
and  laurels,  that  were  strewn  upon  the  floor.  Went  home  with  Cath- 
erine and  Letitia,  carrying  the  wreaths,  etc. 

20th.  —  Catherine  and  Letitia  went  to  dine  with  Mrs.  Rolls ;  I 
remained,  read  over  my  speech,  with  an  occasonal  sensation  of  appre- 
hension, approaching  to  despair,  of  my  ability  to  master  it ;  I  suffered 
very  much.  The  carriage  at  last  arrived,  and  I  drove,  with  the  resolu- 
tion of  doing  my  best,  to  the  Freemasons'  Tavern.  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  horrible  picture  of  myself  in  King  Henry  V.  at  the  corner  of  the 
street,  and  thought  it  looked  like  a  good  omen  :  on  passing  from  my 
carriage  through  the  crowd,  which  was  considerable  on  and  about  the 
steps,  they  cheered  me  lustily,  and  I  bowed  as  I  passed  through  them. 
In  the  reception  room,  I  found  Mr.  Pope,  Sir  M.  A.  Shee,  Mr.  Milnes, 
who  was  introduced  to  me,  but  I  did  not  catch  his  name.  Others  came 
in ;  to  some  I  was  introduced,  others  I  knew.  Lover,  Jerdan,  Captaiu 
Tyndale,  two  foreign  noblemen,  Lord  Nugent,  Lord  Young,  Dickens, 
Robertson  (Westminster),  Scholefield  (M.  P.  Birmingham),  General 
Alexander,  O'Hanlon,  Byng,  Bulwer,  Lord  Conyngham.  The  Duke 
of  Sussex  at  last  arrived ;  I  was  introduced  to  him ;  he  told  me  that 
he  had  "  seen  a  cottage  that  I  had  lived  at,  near  Denbigh  ;  how  beau- 
tiful the  country  was  ! "  etc.  We  went  into  the  room,  I  hanging  back, 
Lord  Conyngham  placing  me  forward,  and  chatting  with  me  as  we 
entered :  the  room  was  very  full  (who  could  have  expected  such  an 
occurrence?).  The  Duke  was  well  applauded  as  he  passed  ;  and  as  I 
followed,  the  plaudits  were  very  loud.  I  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do. 
What  were  my  feelings  it  is  difficult  to  recollect,  as  the  various  per- 
sons in  different  parts  of  the  room  stood  up  to  look  at  me.  I  felt  that 
I  was  the  object  of  the  regard  of  that  large  assembly,  and  that  all  that 
was  done  was  in  my  honor.  I  looked  up  at  the  gallery  on  the  left, 
where  Catherine  was,  and  the  tears  rushed  to  my  eyes  as  mine  met 
hers ;  that  was  perhaps  the  sweetest  moment  of  the  night  to  me.  I 
sat  on  the  right  of  the  Duke  of  Sussex,  Lord  Nugent  on  my  right, 
Sheil,  Dickens,  Monckton  Milnes,  Fonblanque,  etc.,  on  the  left ;  Lord 
Conyngham,  Sir  M.  A.  Shee,  Tennyson,  D'Eyncourt,  Sir  E.  L.  Bul- 
wer, Forster,  Bernal,  the  Hon.  W.  Cowper,  Savory,  Colonel  Fox, 
Babbage,  C.  Buller,  Robertson,  and  many  others  in  front  of  us.  I 
shook  hands  with  Jonathan  Bii-ch  as  I  passed  up  the  room.  The 
Duke  talked  much  to  me,  more  than  I  wished;  but  a  full  glass  of 
sherry  seemed  to  steady  my  nerves  a  little,  though  I  looked  very  grave 
and  pale,  as  I  was  afterwards  told,  and  Bulwer  said  I  looked  like  a 
"baffled  tyrant."  C.  Buller  was  making  me  something  worse,  by 
laughing  and  observing  across  the  table,  that  "  Macready-  was  thinking 
of  his  speech."  The  music  was  beautifully  performed,  and,  after  the 
Duke's  panegyrical  proposal  of  my  health,  in  which  he  was  very 
cordially  greeted,  when  I  arose,  the  whole  room  stood  up,  shouting 
and  waving  their  handkerchiefs,  as  did  the  ladies  in  the  gallery.  I 


4 GO  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1839. 

never  witnessed  such  a  scene,  such  wild  enthusiasm,  on  any  former 
occasion.  It  was  not  like  an  English  assembly.  When  they  had 
resumed  their  seats  and  silence  was  obtained,  I  spoke  nearly  verbatim 
as  follows : 

"  May  it  please  Your  Royal  Highness,  my  Lords,  and  Gentlemen,  — 
I  really  know  not  how  to  reply  to  your  kindness,  to  the  too  indulgent, 
too  flattering  terms,  in  whieh  His  Royal  Highness  has  proposed  my 
health,  and  the  very  complimentary  manner  in  which  you  have  re- 
ceived it.  I  beg  to  thank  you  for  the  great  honor  you  have  done  me. 
I  must  at  the  same  time  regret  my  inability  to  do  justice  to  your  kind- 
ness, or  my  own  estimation  of  it. 

"  In  any  labor  I  may  have  chosen  to  encounter,  in  any  sacrifice  of 
personal  ease  or  pleasure  my  late  undertaking  may  have  cost  me,  I 
could  never  calculate  on,  I  could  never  contemplate,  such  a  recompense, 
and  am  utterly  at  a  loss  to  satisfy  myself  with  any  terms  of  acknowl- 
edgment. I  must  therefore  request  His  Royal  Highness,  and  you, 
Gentlemen,  to  supply,  in  the  indulgent  spirit  that  has  made  me  your 
guest  to-day,  any  deficiency  in  my  expressions,  and  in  the  same  spirit 
to  believe  me  deeply  sensible  of  the  flattering  distinction  conferred  on 
me  by  your  invitation  and  by  the  obliging  condescension  of  our  illus- 
trious Chairman.  Indeed  I  am  fully  conscious  how  much  my  humble 
services  are  overrated,  and,  in  reference  to  the  allusion  so  kindly  made 
by  His  Royal  Highness  of  any  further  requital,  must  declare  that,  in 
the  honors  already  conferred  on  me,  I  am  greatly  overpaid.  My  office 
has  been  a  simple  one  ;  I  can  claim  credit  for  little  more  than  devo- 
tion, zeal,  and  intention  ;  for  little  beyond  an  earnest  faith  in  the 
power  and  ultimate  triumph  of  truth,  and  in  its  elevating  influence, 
however  humble  the  sphere  of  its  exercise. 

"  In  that  faith  I  have  only  endeavored  to  "  piece  out  some  of  the 
imperfections,"  as  they  appeared  to  me,  of  our  theatrical  system.  It 
had  struck  me,  among  the  many  causes  adduced  for  the  drama's  de- 
cline, that,  whilst  every  other  branch  of  art  or  pursuit  of  science  was 
in  a  course  of  rapid  advance,  the  drama,  except  in  regard  to  a  valuable 
change  in  its  costume  by  that  great  artist  whose  name  I  can  never 
mention  without  admiration  and  respect,  John  Kemble,  the  drama  was 
stationary,  its  stage  arrangements  remained  traditional,  defended  from 
innovation  in  each  succeeding  age  by  the  name  and  authority  of  the 
leading  actor  who  had  gone  before.  This  is  so,  whether  we  call  the 
witches  of  "  Macbeth,"  the  Roman  Senate  and  people  —  the  Scnatus 
populus  que  Romanus  —  the  Venetian  Councils,  Banquo's  Ghost,  or 
the  moving  wood  of  Birnam,  which,  if  presented,  should  at  least  ex- 
plain themselves.  All  were  little  more  than  barbarous  burlesques  of 
the  great  poet's  conceptions. 

"  It  had  long  been  my  ambition,  and  has  been  my  endeavor  to  '  re- 
form this  indifferently,'  if  not  '  altogether,'  and  to  present  the  works 
of  our  dramatic  poets,  and  chiefly  Shakespeare's,  with  the  truth  of 
illustration  they  merit,  and  that  a  public,  possessing  a  dramatic  liter- 
ature like  ours,  has  a  right  to  demand. 


1839.  PUBLIC  DINNER  TO  MACREADY.  461 

"  Some  exceptions  have  been  taken  to  the  amount,  the  extent  of 
decoration  lavished  on  our  plays  ;  but  I  would  beg,  with  deference,  to 
inquire  the  particular  instance  (for  I  do  not  know  it)  where  the  em- 
bellishment has  exceeded  propriety  and  the  demand  of  the  situation. 
In  all  that  has  been  attempted,  the  object  has  been  simply  truth. 
What  my  own  imagination  has  presented  to  me,  in  turning  over  the 
pages  of  our  great  poet,  I  have  endeavored  to  make  palpable  to  the 
senses  of  my  audience,  and  I  would  beg  distinctly  to  repudiate  the  idea 
that  has  been  entertained  by  some  persons,  that  it  is  to  the  care  be- 
stowed on  our  wardrobe  and  scene-room  that  we  are  alone  indebted 
for  our  successes ;  the  plays  of  Shakespeare  have  been  produced  of 
late  years  in  the  same  theater  with  far  more  lavish  expenditures,  but 
the  results  have  not  been  equally  fortunate.  Indeed,  the  tragedies  of 
'  Coriolanus '  and  '  King  Lear,'  so  far  from  being  overloaded  with 
ornament,  have,  in  their  recent  revivals,  been  actually  stripped  of  the 
'  barbaric  pearl  and  gold '  with  which  they  were  before  invested,  and 
are  now  represented  in  the  rude  simplicity  of  their  respective  periods. 
Our  aim  has  been  fidelity  of  illustration.  The  '  delicate  Ariel '  is  now 
no  longer  in  representation  a  thing  of  earth,  but  either  '  a  wandering 
voice '  or  a  visible  spirit  of  air,  flitting  in  his  own  element  amid  the 
strange  and  sweet  noises  of  the  enchanted  island.  With  the  restora- 
tion of  the  text,  our  object  has  been  to  make  palpable  the  meaning  of 
Shakespeare,  and  to  this  is  to  be  attributed  mainly,  if  not  entirely,  the 
popularity  of  our  theater.  In  following  out  an  observation  of  Sir 
Thomas  Lawrence,  that  '  Every  part  of  a  picture  required  equal  care 
and  pains,'  we  have  sought,  by  giving  purpose  and  passion  to  the 
various  figures  of  our  groups,  to  spread  over  the  entire  scene  some 
portion  of  that  energy  and  interest  which,  heretofore,  the  leading  actor 
exclusively  and  jealously  appropriated. 

"  In  this  endeavor  to  transfer  his  picture  from  the  poet's  mind  to  the 
stage,  complete  in  its  parts  and  harmoniously  arranged  as  to  figure, 
scene,  and  action,  we  have  the  satisfaction  of  recording  the  success  of 
a  season  unequaled,  I  believe,  by  any  not  having  the  attraction  of  a 
new  performer,  for  the  last  sixteen  years.  This  at  least  furnishes  a 
proof  not  to  be  mistaken,  that  there  is  no  lack  either  of  intelligence  or 
taste  in  our  audiences  to  appreciate  and  support  our  noble  drama,  if 
properly  presented. 

"  My  hope  and  my  intention  was,  if  my  abilities  had  kept  pace  with 
them,  to  have  left  in  our  theater  the  complete  series  of  Shakespeare's 
acting  plays,  his  text  purified  from  the  gross  interpolations  that  dis- 
figure it  and  distort  his  characters,  and  the  system  of  re-arrangement 
so  perfected  throughout  them,  that  our  stage  would  have  presented,  as 
it  ought,  one  of  the  best  illustrated  editions  of  the  poet's  works.  But 
"  my  poverty,  and  not  my  will,"  has  compelled  me  to  desist  from  the 
attempt. 

"Yet,  though  I  may  not  again  be  called  to  'bear  my  part,  or  show 
the  glory  of  our  art,'  let  me  indulge  the  hope  that  the  path  which  has 
been  so  successfully  and  auspiciously  opened  under  your  encourage- 


4G2  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1839. 

ment  may  be  steadily  and  perseveringly  pursued  by  others ;  that  our 
theater  will  remain,  as  Shakespeare's  temple,  consecrated  to  its  loftiest 
purposes,  dedicated  to  the  highest  intellectual  amusements,  and  no 
longer,  as  a  mere  place  of  demoralizing  and  licentious  resort,  degrade 
our  character  for  refinement  among  the  other  European  nations. 

"  I  would  beg  to  trespass  one  short  minute  further  on  your  atten- 
tion, and  avail  myself  of  this  occasion  to  express  thus  publicly  my 
thanks  to  those  friends  whose  ardor  and  zeal  in  my  cause  have  loaded 
me  with  benefits  that  I  never  can  repay.  Amongst  them  I  must  beg 
to  particularize  Sir  Edward  Lytton  Bulwer,  who  wrote  his  delightful 
play  of  'The  Lady  of  Lyons' expressly  to  serve  my  interests,  and, 
after  public  opinion  had  stamped  it  as  the  most  attractive  production 
of  many  years,  obstinately  —  I  must  use  the  word,  obstinately  —  re- 
fused to  consider  it  in  any  other  light  than  as  a  gift  to  me.  To  my 
esteemed  friends  Mr.  Stanfield,  Mr.  Dickens,  Sergeant  Talfourd,  and 
Mr.  Serle,  I  am  also  proud  to  be  indebted,  and,  uniting  my  thanks  to 
them  with  those  I  owe  to  you,  I  beg  once  more  to  repeat  the  assur- 
ances of  my  lasting  gratitude  and  my  deep  sense  of  your  great  kind- 
ness, which,  whilst  I  can  remember,  I  never  can  forget." 1 

August  ISth.  —  Looked  out  my  clothes  at  my  lodgings  ;  went  to  re- 
hearsal at  the  Haymarket.2  Acted  Othello,  in  part  well,  in  part  lan- 
guidly. The  audience  did  not  seem  to  be  of  the  same  quality  of  intel- 
lect as  I  had  been  used  to  at  Covent  Garden. 

Elstree,  August  25th.  —  Finished  "  Deerbrook  "  before  I  could  rise 
this  morning.  I  close  this  book  with  feelings  of  gratitude  and  vene- 
ration to  the  author,  for  I  have  been  much  benefited  by  the  confirma- 
tion of  good  aspiration  and  intention,  that  has  existed  feebly  within 
me.  Rose  and  heard  the  dear  children  their  hymns,  and  afterwards 
examined  them  in  their  multiplication  and  the  French  verbs.  Ar- 
ranged my  accounts,  etc.,  and  afterwards  read  in  "  Othello." 

London,  September  18th.  —  Rehearsed  Shylock  with  very  few  per- 
sons, and  did  not  feel  at  all  at  home  in  it.  I  have  not  got  the  key  to 
the  character,  and  must  sternly  and  resolutely  take  the  part  in  hand. 

30th.  —  Rose  in  a  very  nervous  and  wandering  state  of  mind ;  very 
much  magnifying  to  myself  the  possibilities  attendant  on  my  experi- 
ment of  Shylock  this  evening,  and  suffering  under  imaginations  and 
apprehensions  that  appear  absurd  upon  the  occasion.  The  unpleasant 
position  of  this  character  is  that  its  success  would  not  be  any  great  ac- 
cession to  my  reputation,  and  failure  must  do  some  harm  in  any  under- 

1  The  other  chief  toasts  of  the  evening  were  those  of  Lord  Conyngham  (then. 
Lord  Chamberlain)  and  of  Charles  Young;  the  Memory  of  Shakespeare,  proposed 
by  Milnes  ;  Sir  E.  L.  Bulwer  ;  the  Senate  and  the  Bar,  proposed  by  Lord  Nugent, 
coupled  with  the  names  of  Talfourd  and  Sheil,  and  to  which  Shiel  responded.     Sir 
Martin  Ascher  Shee  returned  thanks  for  the  Royal  Academy,  as  its  President; 
Dickens  proposed  the  health  of  the  late  Company  of  Covent  Garden  Theater, 
which  was  acknowledged  by  Mr.  Scrle ;  and  the  Hon.  W.  Cowper,  M.  P.,  returned 
thanks  for  the  stewards.  —  ED. 

2  The  engagement  at  the  Haymarket  now  commenced  continued  to  the  end  of 
this  year,  and  up  to  15th  January  of  the  following  year  (1840).  —  ED. 


1839.  SIIYLOCK—  HOUSE  AT  YORK  GATE.  463 

taking.  My  mind,  however,  is  made  up  to  do  my  best,  and  what  more 
can  any  man  do  ?  or  what  more  does  a  reasonable  and  conscientious 
man  require  than  such  a  consciousness  to  place  his  mind  at  ease  ? 

Acted  Shylock,  and  tried  to  do  my  best ;  but  how  unavailing  is  all 
reasoning  against  painful  facts ;  the  performance  was  an  utter  failure. 
I  felt  it,  and  suffered  very  much  for  it. 

October  Uh.  —  Shylock.  I  was  very  nervous  again,  but  on  going 
upon  the  stage  I  regained  much  self-possession  ;  identified  myself  more 
with  the  scene,  and  was  able  to  give  more  decision  and  clear  effect  to 
what  I  said  than  on  Monday  night.  I  acted  Shylock  in  many  instances 
very  fairly. 

12th.  —  Came  home  to  our  newly-taken  house,  York  Gate,  Regent's 
Park. 

15th.  —  I  read  some  part  of  Bulwer's  play,  "The  Sea  Captain." 
Webster  called  ;  I  spoke  with  him  about  the  dresses  and  scenery,  and 
we  then  settled  the  terms  of  an  engagement  for  next  season  at  £100 
per  week,  play  or  no  play,  with  the  choice  of  a  month's  vacation  on 
my  part. 

17th.  —  On  my  return  found  a  letter  from  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  in 
reply  to  mine,  "  regretting  that  he  was  obliged  to  refuse  my  request."  l 
I  expected  this,  and  it  only  adds  to  the  strength  of  my  case,  whenever 
I  wish  to  put  it  forward. 

22d.  —  Rehearsed  the  new  play  of  "  The  Sea  Captain."  Bulwer 
came  in  to  ask  me  for  his  MS.  alterations. 

23d.  —  Rehearsed  the  new  play.  Returned  home  very  much  tired. 
"Went  to  theater,  and  acted  pretty  well ;  was  called  for  and  very  well 
received.  I  made  the  actors  play  the  play  within  the  proscenium,  and 
the  effect  was  greatly  improved. 

25th.  —  Acted  Shylock  very  fairly,  better,  I  think,  than  on  any  pre- 
vious occasion.  Head  came  with  part  of  my  dress.  Returning  home, 
found  a  parcel  with  a  note  from  Dickens,  and  a  presentation  copy  of 
"  Nickleby,"  2  What  a  dear  fellow  he  is ! 

30th.  —  Walked  down  to  the  theater.  Rehearsed  the  new  play. 
Bulwer  and  Blanchard  came  to  the  rehearsal.  Bulwer  became  more 
confident  as  the  rehearsal  proceeded,  and  seemed  at  ease  in  his  mind 
when  it  had  concluded.  I  am  not.  I  want  time  for  myself  and  much 
more  for  other  persons  and  things. 

Head  brought  me  my  dress  and  took  orders. 

Gave  the  whole  evening  to  a  late  hour  to  the  consideration  of  the 
new  play. 

31st.  —  Not  well.  Suffering  from  my  late  hours  last  night.  At- 
tended to  the  lessons  of  my  children.  Saw  the  paper. 

Went  in  great  anxiety,  and  uncomfortably  to  the  theater.  Rehearsed 
the  new  play.  Blanchard  and  Mr.  Tyas  came  in.  Returned  home 
very,  very  uncomfortably.  My  mind  depressed,  and  my  spirits  suffer- 
ing much  from  misgiving  and  apprehension.  Read  the  play  over. 

1  For  a  personal  license  to  perform  the  legitimate  drama.  —  ED. 

2  Which  was  dedicated  to  Macready.  —  ED. 


4G4  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1839. 

Went  to  the  theater.  Acted  Norman  in  Bulwer's  new  play,  with 
some  energy,  and  occasional  inspiration.  Was  received  very  warmly, 
and  called  for  at  the  end,  greeted  with  much  enthusiasm.1 

November  18th.  —  Went  to  breakfast  with  Mrs.  Reid,  to  meet  the 
Princess  Belgiojoso.  She  did  not  arrive  till  past  twelve  o'clock.  Dr. 
Roget  called  in  afterwards.  I  passed  an  agreeable  morning  with  this 
charming  woman. 

27th.  —  Hammond  called,  and,  in  a  conversation  with  him,  Cath- 
erine and  afterwards  Letitia  being  present,  I  recommended  him  to  en- 
gage Phelps,  H.  Phillips,  and  Miss  Faucit.  He  assented  to  the  justice 
of  my  remarks,  and  promised  to  act  upon  them.  Looked  at  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher,  but  found  nothing  to  hope  from. 

December  1st.  —  Stanfield,  Lovers,  Procters,  Rollses,  Mrs.  Reid, 
Elliotson,  O'Hanlon,  Warren,  Herring,  Misses  Faucit,  and  P.  Horton 
came  to  dinner.  The  Loughs,  T.  Cookes,  Lane,  Eg.  Webbe,  Z. 
Troughton,  Quin,  Ainsworth,  Edw.  Landseer  Bennett,  Mrs.  Kitch- 
ener, came  in  the  evening.  The  day  was  cheerful,  the  music  very  good, 
and  all  passed  off  very  pleasantly. 

Gth.  —  Read  in  Carlyle's  "  French  Revolution,"  —  that  wonderful 
book ! 

Dickens  gave  me  a  play  to  read,  called  "  Glencoe." 

1th.  —  Finished  the  play  of  •'  Glencoe,"  which  has  so  much  to  praise 
in  it. 

8th.  —  Arranged  my  accounts,  and  found  myself  possessed  of  £10,000, 
a  small  realization  out  of  such  a  receipt  as  mine  has  been  the  last 
twenty  years.  But  I  have  lost  much,  given  away  much,  and,  I  fear, 
spent  much ;  but  what  I  have  lost,  and  what  given,  would  leave  me 
with  all  my  spendings  a  rich  man. 

Qth.  —  Read  in  Carlyle's  "  Revolution."  Towards  the  morning  was 
wakeful,  and  lay  reflecting  on  my  present  condition,  and  what  it  might 
or  would  have  been,  had  I  remained  in  the  direction  of  Coveut  Gar- 
den Theater.  One  thing  is  quite  certain,  I  could  not  have  closed  the 
theater  (had  I  continued)  with  one  shilling  surplus  (vice  £1,200)  ;  I 
should  not  have  been  placed  as  the  present  tenant  is,  for  the  Olympic 
would  have  been  open  ;  I  might  have  been  ill,  which  would  be  ruin  ;  I 
should  never  have  seen  my  children,  a  calamity  nearly  equal. 

10th.  —  Webster  informed  me  that  the  Bath  Theater  was  given  up. 
The  country  ceases  to  be  a  source  of  revenue. 

1 2th.  —  Went  to  dine  with  Talfourd,  calling  on  Dickens,  who  said 
he  was  too  ill  to  accompany  me.  Dined.  Talfourd,  Forster,  and 
self.  After  dinner  the  conversation  turned  on  plays.  I  mentioned 
one  I  had  of  a  striking  character  upon  a  popular  subject ;  Talfourd 
asked  me  the  title.  I  told  him  "  Glencoe."  He  questioned  me  about 
its  possible  melodramatic  tendency.  I  told  him,  that  the  treatment 
avoided  the  melodrama  of  the  stage  ;  that  the  style  was  an  imitation 
of  his  writing,  but  without  the  point  that  terminated  his  speeches ; 

1  The  Sea  Captain  was  played  frequently  at  the  Ilaymarkct  to  the  end  of 
Macrcady's  engagement  of  this  date.  —  ED. 


1839.  TALFOURD'S  "  GLENCOE."  465 

that  the  story  was  well  managed  and  dramatic  ;  and  that  I  intended  to 
act  it.  At  last,  to  my  utter  astonishment,  he  pulled  out  two  books 
from  his  pocket  and  said,  "  Well,  I  will  no  longer  conceal  it  —  it  is  my 
play ; "  and  he  gave  each  of  us  a  copy  !  I  never  in  my  life  experi- 
enced a  greater  surprise.  This  play  had  been  represented  to  me  as 
Mr.  Collinson's.  Forster  affected  great  indignation,  and  really 
stormed ;  I  laughed,  loud  and  long ;  it  was  really  a  romance  to  me. 
Talfourd  told  us  that  he  had  written  this  to  preserve  his  recollections 
of  Glencoe.  I  strongly  advised  him  to  take  one  of  two  courses,  either 
to  flood  the  town  with  the  edition,  published  anonymously,  and  engage 
the  suffrages  of  the  press,  and  leave  it  to  be  acted  with  his  name  as  it 
might  escape ;  or  to  preserve  it  a  profound  secret,  giving  him  at  the 
same  time  a  right  to  call  upon  me  if  he  heard  it  anywhere  through  me. 

13th.  —  Read  through  the  play  of"  Glencoe,"  which  I  trust  is  des- 
tined to  be  a  great  success,  but  my  opinion  of  its  poetical  merits  is  still 
unchanged  :  it  is  superior  to,  in  dramatic  construction,  and  very  much 
below  in  poetry,  the  play  of  "  Ion." 

15th.  —  Looked  over  my  accounts,  and  examined  what  had  been  my 
expenses  this  year.  I  found  upwards  of  £400  for  theater  expenses, 
and  £200  given  away  in  small  donations  to  poor  or  importunate  peo- 
ple. 

20th.  —  Found  a  note  from  Bulwer,  a  most  kind  one,  inquiring  of 
me  if  I  had  any  wish  to  accept  the  place  of  Dramatic  Censor  ;  that  ap- 
plications were  being  made  for  the  office  in  the  expectation  of  Charles 
Kemble's  death,  and  that  he  had  heard  to-day  that  they  would  give 
the  preference  to  me.  Answered  Bulwer,  expressing  my  anxiety  to 
obtain  the  office  if  I  could  have  it  with  my  profession  for  four  years, 
or  even  for  one  year  ;  thanking  him  very  cordially. 

2£th.  —  A  card  from  Mr.  Martins,  who  had  called  with  a  "  private 
message  from  Lord  Uxbridge,"  and  wished  me  to  call  on  him.  I  set 
off  to  St.  James's  and  found  him.  His  errand  was  to  express  to  me, 
in  honeyed  phrase,  that  Lord  Uxbridge  had  given  to  Mr.  J.  Kemble  x 
the  appointment  of  Deputy  Licenser.  I  heard  the  news  as  indiffer- 
ently as  I  could  endeavor  to  seem  to  do,  and  after  some  conversation 
left  him. 

We  all  indulge  in  hope  that,  spite  of  our  efforts,  grows  into  expecta- 
tion, and  I  had  resolved  on  leaving  the  stage  at  once,  and  quitting 
scenes  where  my  mind  is  in  a  whirl  of  passion,  intrigue,  and  tumult, 
where  temptations  to  error  are  constantly  before  me  and  provocations 
beset  me  on  every  side.  I  had  hoped  to  retire  from  this  to  the  serenity 
of  a  country  life,  to  a  slender  establishment,  and  the  society  of  my  chil- 
.  dren.  I  have  now  no  hope  of  any  assistance  in  life,  but  must  finish  it. 
and  play  out  the  game  myself.  God  assist  me.  Amen. 

1  John  Mitchell  Kemble,  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  the  distinguished  An- 
glo-Saxon scholar,  son  of  Charles  Kemble,  who  had  been  for  some  time  in  the 
actual  performance  of  the  duties  of  the  office.  —  ED. 
30 


466  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1840. 


1840. 

London,  January  5th.  —  Heard  the  children  their  hymns,  and  ar- 
ranged my  accounts.  In  thinking  over  and  speaking  of  my  expenses,  I 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  absolutely  indispensable  that  I  should 
give  up  Elstree  and  take  a  house  in  town. 

15th.  — "  Sea  Captain."    Last  night  of  Haymarket  engagement. 

ISth.  —  Went  with  Catherine  to  look  at  a  house  —  Clarence  Terrace 
—  which  I  liked. 

20th.  —  Went  to  Drury  Lane  Theater.  Acted  Macbeth  tolerably 
fairly,  was  called  for,  and  well  received.  Was  very  grateful  to  see  so 
excellent  a  house.  How  different  my  return  to  this  theater  to  my  de- 
parture from  it !  How  grateful  I  ought  to  be  ! 

22d.  —  Rehearsed  the  play  of  "  Mary  Stuart."  Went  to  Drury 
Lane  Theater,  and  acted  Ruthven  ;  was  nervous,  and,  to  my  own  sur- 
prise —  in  fact,  I  cannot  now  understand  the  cause  —  I  lost  the  words 
in  my  great  effect  of  the  fourth  act.  I  came  off  the  stage  in  a  state  of 
desperate  fury,  rushed  to  my  book,  and,  when  I  looked  at  the  words  in 
which  I  had  been  perfect  six  weeks  ago,  I  saw  that  if  my  life  depended 
on  it  I  could  not  have  spoken  them  —  they  had  gone  out  of  my  head ! 
Was  called  on  after  the  play,  and  very  well  received. 

February  IQth. —  Went  to  the  Piazza  Coffee  House  to  congratulate 
and  sup  with  Maclise  on  the  occasion  of  his  election  as  a  Royal  Aca- 
demician. Stanfield  was  there  with  others. 

13th.  —  Went  to  dine  with  Mrs.  Rolls  and  passed  an  agreeable  day. 
Met  Dottin,  M.  P.  for  Southampton,  Walpole,  Boxall,  Whately  and 
Lady  Henrietta  Churchill,  Dickens  and  Mrs.  Dickens,  Miss  Morice,  etc. 

March  3d.  —  JEt.  47.    My  birthday. 

4th.  —  I  went  with  Nina  and  Letitia  to  Elstree.  My  journey  was  a 
melancholy  one  ;  every  familiar  object  on  the  road,  the  road  itself,  lead- 
ing over  Brockley  Hill,  as  I  caught  it  in  the  distance,  looked  as  if  part 
of  the  happy  thoughts  that  were  associated  with  what  I  think  of  as  my 
home  of  many  happy  years.  How  often  in  coming  here  have  I  left 
care,  and  evil  passion,  and  degrading  thoughts  behind  me,  and  felt,  as 
the  beauty  of  the  landscape  opened  and  the  inspiring  freshness  of  the 
air  breathed  on  me,  my  heart  spring  up  and  burn  within  me  in  grati- 
tude to  God  and  love  of  his  works  seen,  heard,  and  felt  around  me.  I 
must  leave  it  —  my  home,  my  home  !  Farewell,  dear,  dear  Elstree ! 

[March  Stk  to  March  13th.  —  Engagement  at  Bristol.] 

London,  March  15th. —  Went  to  dinner  at  Lord  Lansdowne's.  Met 
some  agreeable  persons,  with  Fonblanque,  Bulwer,  Pigott,  the  Solici- 
tor-General for  Ireland,  and  Lord  Normanby.  The  day  was  pleasant 
to  me,  and  I  was  much  struck  with  the  beautiful  works  of  art  I  saw 
there.  Fortunati  nimium,  who  are  born  to  such  possessions. 

16th.  -r-  First  night  of  engagement  at  Haymarket.1   Went  to  theater 

1  This  engagement  at  the  Haymarket  continued  to  the  end  of  this  year  and  up 
to  13th  March  in  the  following  year  (1841).  —  ED. 


1840.  SOIREE  AT  BABE  AGE'S.  467 

and  acted  Hamlet  very  carefully  and  very  well.  The  new  effect  of  the 
pictures  on  the  wall  of  the  apartment  was  a  very  great  improvement 
on  the  old  stupid  custom.  Was  called  for  and  very  well  received  by 
the  audience.  Miss  Horton  made  quite  a  success  in  Ophelia,  and  was 
very  warmly  received  indeed.  Bulwer,  Jerdan,  Forster,  Maclise  came 
into  my  room.  All  were  much  pleased,  but  Bulwer  was  quite  de- 
lighted ;  I  never  saw  him  so  enthusiastic.  I  was  very  much  pleased. 
Thank  God,  all  went  so  well. 

21  st. —  Called  on  Maclise,  and  saw  again  his  grand  picture  of  Mac- 
beth. The  figure  of  Lady  Macbeth,  which  I  had  not  seen  before,  I 
thought  the  ideal  of  the  character :  it  is  a  noble  conception.  His  pict- 
ure of  Olivia  I  can  look  at  forever ;  it  is  beauty,  moral  and  physical, 
personified. 

April  $th.  —  Gave  the  children  their  lessons.  Received  letters  from 
Rugby  for  subscriptions  to  a  new  church  there. 

Walked  to  Regent  Street  with  Dickens,  and  took  a  cab  home. 
Rested  after  dinner.  The  servant  brought  me  in  a  card,  Mr.  Thomas 
Moore,  and  told  me  the  gentleman  would  take  no  denial.  I  could  not 
imagine  it  to  be  Tom  Moore,  and  went  out  in  a  very  ill  humor :  to 
my  surprise,  it  was  the  bright  little  man  himself.  We  went  up-stairs, 
and  he  wanted  to  visit  the  Haymarket  with  Mrs.  Moore  and  his  son, 
who  is  going  out  to  India.  I  told  him  to  ask  for  his  own  private  box, 
which  I  procured  for  him  when  I  went  to  the  theater. 

llth. — Acted  Cardinal  Richelieu.  Dickens  called  for  me,  and  we 
went  together  to  Lord  Northampton's.1  Saw  there  Babbage,  Maclise, 
Etty,  Pickersgill,  Horner,  Jerdan,  Stanfield,  Lord  Aberdeen,  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  Cartwright,  Sir  H.  Ellis,  Sir  Richard  Jenkins, 
T.  Hook,  Dr.  Dibbin,  Sir  D.  Wilkie.  Walked  home  with  Dickens. 

25th.  —  Acted  Claude  Melnotte  partially  well ;  was  called  for,  but 
hearing  Miss  Faucit's  name,  thought  it  right  she  should  have  her 
undivided  applause,  and  desired  that  some  one  else  should  lead  her 
on,  which  was  done.  Went  on  afterwards,  to  the  continued  call,  and 
was  well  received.  David  Golden  came  into  my  room  and  accom- 
panied me  to  Babbage's,  where  I  saw  Sidney  Smith,  Professor  Wheat- 
stone,  the  Brockedons,  two  or  three  whom  I  knew,  but  not  by  name, 
Harness,  Travers,  Hawes,  Lady  Stepney,  Dr.  Arnott,  Milman,  the 
Bishop  of  Norwich  (Stanley),  who  wished  to  be  known  to  me.  I  had 
a  very  interesting  conversation  with  him,  a  man  I  admire  and  rever- 
ence so  much,  speaking  with  great  warmth  of  the  effort  I  had  made 
and  the  probable  effect  if  carried  out.  I  was  very  much  pleased  with 
him. 

29^.  —  Went  out,  and  hastened  down  to  King's  College,  where  I 
saw  Professor  Wheatstone,  who  showed  the  persons  present  his  elec- 
tric telegraph,  and  his  speaking  machine,  which  uttered  clearly  the 
words,  "  Mamma,  papa,  mother,  thumb,  summer."  I  was  amply 
recompensed  for  the  visit  I  paid  him.  I  saw  Milman  there,  who  was 

1  The  Marquis  of  Northampton  was  then  President  of  the  Kojal  Society,  and 
gave  soirees  at  his  house  in  Piccadilly.  —  ED. 


468  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1840. 

very  courteous.     Called  at  several  shops  and  priced  various  articles  of 
furniture. 

Looked  in  at  the  Water-color  Exhibition,  and  saw  some  very  beau- 
tiful things  by  Copley,  Fielding,  and  Prout.  Called  at  the  Hayinarket, 
and  spoke  to  Webster  on  business.  Called  at  Ilolloway's,  and  paid 
for  my  prints. 

May  1st.  —  Went  to  the  private  view  of  the  Royal  Academy,  and 
was  much  gratified  with  what  I  saw  ;  I  think  it  is  one  of  the  best 
exhibitions  I  have  seen  ;  all  the  distinguished  artists  are  up  to  a  high 
mark,  except  Turner,  who  is  lamentable.  Saw  D'Orsay,  Etty,  C. 
Landseer,  Edwin  Landseer,  Maclise,  Mrs.  Dickens,  Stanfield,  T.  Hill, 
Mr.  W.  Russell. 

5th.  —  Acted  Hamlet,  as  I  thought,  in  a  most  real  and  effective 
manner.  Was  well  satisfied  with  myself.  Alexander  Dumas,  with 
two  friends,  came  into  my  room  after  the  play.  Very  much  pleased. 
Dumas  told  me  he  had  undertaken  to  translate  Macbeth,  and  that  Li- 
gier l  would  come  over  to  consult  me  about  its  performance. 

8th.  —  Attended  Carlyle's  lecture,  "  The  Hero  as  a  Prophet :  Ma- 
homet ; "  on  which  he  descanted  with  a  fervor  and  eloquence  that  only 
a  conviction  of  truth  could  give.  I  was  charmed,  carried  away  by 
him.  Met  Browning  there. 

llth.  —  Went  to  theater.  Rehearsed  "  Glencoe,"  which  wears  an 
appearance  of  much  promise. 

23d.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  and,  in  the  character  of  Halbert  Mac- 
donald  in  Talfourd's  play  of  "  Glencoe,"  I  did  all  I  could  do  —  all 
that  the  very  short  period  allowed  for  preparation  allowed  me  to  do. 
The  audience  became  very  fervent,  although  I  felt,  in  the  second  act, 
that  the  persons  in  the  front  were  disposed  to  be  ill-natured.  Was 
called  for  by  the  house  and,  when  silence  was  obtained,  I  informed 
them  that  I  had  a  little  history  to  relate  concerning  the  play  ;  that  it 
had  been  placed  in  my  hands  by  a  friend,  as  the  work  of  a  gentleman 
named  Collinson,  who  had  written  to  me  once,  but  that,  in  entering 
on  the  work,  I  felt  no  more  interest  in  it  than  the  general  anxiety  I 
feel  on  subjects  appertaining  to  dramatic  literature.  I  felt  deeply  as  I 
read  it,  and  I  argued  that  what  had  touched  me  so  nearly  could  not 
be  without  effect  more  generally.  Mr.  Webster  accepted  it  unhesi- 
tatingly, and  it  was  some  time  after  that  I  was  made  acquainted  with 
the  real  author,  a  name  which  I  had  pleasure  in  communicating  as 
they  would  have  in  hearing,  being  that  of  one  whose  pen  had  been 
invariably  exercised  in  asserting  the  benefit  and  beauty  and  blessing 
of  an  earnest  faith  in  good  —  it  was  Mr.  Sergeant  Talfourd's.  This 
was  greatly  applauded,  and  I  gave  out  the  play  for  three  nights'  rep- 
resentations per  week  till  further  notice.  Talfourd  rushed  into  my 
room  to  thank  me,  and  Dickens,  Maclise,  etc.,  also  came. 

2ith.  —  Talfourd  and  Dickens  called  for  me  and  we  went  together 
to  Rogers,  where  we  dined.     Lord  and  Lady  Seymour,  Mrs.  Norton, 
Lady  Dufferin,  Lord  Denman,  Luttrell,  and  Poole,  with  Miss  Rogers, 
i  The  distinguished  tragedian  of  the  The'utre  Fran9ais.  —  ED. 


1840.  ETTY'S  "BRIDGE   OE  SIGHS."  469 

were  our  party.  I  was  pleased  with  the  day,  liking  Mrs.  Norton  very 
much,  and  being  much  amused  with  some  anecdotes  of  Rogers.  His 
collection  of  pictures  is  admirable,  and  the  spirit  of  good  taste  seems 
to  pervade  every  nook  of  his  house. 

31st.  —  "Went  to  Lady  Blessington's,  where  I  saw  the  Fonblanques, 
Lords  Normanby  and  Canterbury,  Milnes,  Chorley,  Standish,  Rubini, 
Stuart  Wortley,  an  Italian  —  Count  something,  Mr.  Palgrave  Simp- 
sou,  and  Listz,  the  most  marvelous  pianist  I  ever  heard.  I  do  not 
know  when  I  have  been  so  excited. 

June  18th.  —  Went  over  Willie's  translation  with  him  very  particu- 
larly, which  he  did  pretty  well,  but  Caesar  is  not  a  book  to  be  given 
as  one  to  ground  an  infant  mind  in  a  language.  Read  part  of  Mel- 
notte.  Elliotson  called,  and  urged  me  to  try  the  prescription.  A  let- 
ter from  a  poor  woman  with  whom  I  had  lodged  when  very  young  ; 
her  name  was  Eliza  Robinson,  poor  creature.  She  brings  back  to  me 
the  days  of  my  boyhood,  since  when,  my  life  looks  like  a  vision,  a 
rapid  change  of  dim  scenes. 

23d.  —  Looked  at  "  Timon  of  Athens,"  but  it  is  (for  the  stage)  only 
an  incident  with  comments  on  it.  The  story  is  not  complete  enough 
—  not  furnished,  I  ought  to  say  —  with  the  requisite  varieties  of  pas- 
sion for  a  play  ;  it  is  heavy  and  monotonous. 

24th.  —  Saw  Etty's  picture  of  the  "  Bridge  of  Sighs  "  advertised  for 
sale  in  the  papers ;  decided  on  inquiring  about  it.  Called  on  Etty, 
who  was  from  home ;  learned  that  the  picture  had  been  removed  to 
Colnaghi's ;  determined  to  pursue  it.  Called  at  Colnaghi's ;  heard  of 
the  picture,  that  its  price  would  not  be  under  £30  ;  upon  his  statement 
of  the  first  value,  between  buyer  and  seller,  agreed  to  give  £40  for  it, 
he  to  negotiate  the  purchase. 

25th.  —  I  sent  to  Colnaghi's  for  Etty's  picture  of  the  "  Bridge  of 
Sighs."  I  do  not  grudge  the  money  for  it.  It  is  to  me  poetry  on 
canvas.  The  story  of  that  gloomy  canal  and  its  fatal  bridge  is  told  at 
once  ;  there  is  a  history  before  you  and  a  commentary  upon  it  in  the 
single  star  that  is  looking  down  upon  the  dark  deeds  below. 

27th.  —  A  son  born.1 

August  loth.  —  Rehearsed  Sir  Oswin  Mortland  in  "To  Marry  or 
Not  to  Marry."  Went  to  Haymarket  Theater  and  acted  Sir  Oswin 
Mortland,  not  to  my  own  satisfaction,  though  praised  by  Serle.  Was 
called  for  and  well  received,  leading  on  Miss  P.  Horton,  who  did  her 
teaching  credit. 

September  23d.  —  Head  called  and  took  directions  about  my  dress 
for  Richard  Cromwell.  Went  to  the  theater  ;  rehearsed  the  new  play. 
Went  into  the  Oxford  Street  Theater  ;  was  denied,  but  on  giving  my 
name,  was  conducted  over  it  by  a  sort  of  superintendent.  It  is  really 
beautiful :  well  placed,  it  would  be  a  fortune,  but,  where  it  is,  I  have 
no  faith  in  its  success. 

24th.  —  Rehearsed  the  play  of  "  Master  Clarke." 

2Qth.  —  Went  to  the  theater  and  rehearsed  the  play  of  "  Richard 

i  Walter  Francis  Shell,  died  February  8th,  1853.  — ED. 


470  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1840. 

Cromwell."  Returning  home,  read  over  the  part,  and  going  again  to 
the  theater,  acted  it  (Richard  Cromwell)  very  fairly,  bringing  out  some 
parts  of  the  character  with  truth  and  force.  I  was  called  for  and  very 
well  received  by  the  audience. 

27 'tit.  —  Began  reading  and  making  legible  Bulwer's  comedy  of 
"Money."  Read  the  whole  of  it  to  Catherine,  etc.,  with  Forster, 
with  which  all  were  delighted.  Floreat. 

28th.  —  Spoke  to  Webster  on  the  subject  of  next  year's  engage- 
ment. He  said  that  he  understood  I  had  said  that,  while  I  was  com- 
fortable at  the  Haymarket,  I  would  stay.  I  mentioned  the  position 
of  my  name  on  the  play-bills,  that  it  should  not  on  any  occasion  be 
put  under  any  other  person's,  as  it  had  been  ;  that  I  should  have  the 
right  to  a  private  box  when  they  were  not  let.  He  wished  me  to  take 
the  month's  leave  which  I  had  at  my  option ;  tried  it  on  for  "  seven 
weeks,"  to  which  I  would  not  agree.  He  also  wished  to  alter  the 
mode  of  play  and  pay,  this  I  would  only  hear  of  so  far,  that  I  should 
be  paid  weekly  £100  for  the  same  number  of  nights  (excepting  the 
month's  leave),  but  he  might  put  the  nights  in  what  order  he  chose 
through  the  whole  term  of  engagement.  Appointed  the  reading  of 
the  comedy  for  to-morrow.  Read  over  Richard  Cromwell.  Went  to 
theater ;  acted  Richard  Cromwell  tolerably.  Called  for  and  well  re- 
ceived. 

29^/i. —  Looked  over  the  sums  of  the  children.  Read  the  paper. 
Note  from  Ransom.  Assisted  Willie  in  his  lessons.  Applied  myself 
to  the  revision  and  marking  of  the  MS.  of  Bulwer's  new  comedy,  to 
which  I  gave  the  entire  morning.  Messrs.  Webster  and  Willmott 
called  at  three  o'clock  to  hear  the  comedy  read.  I  read  it  to  them, 
and  Mr.  Webster  accepted  it,  expressing  his  wish  to  have  it  produced 
as  soon  as  possible.  Went  to  dine  with  Procter,  at  whose  house  I 
met  Christie,  Doctor  Southey,  Mr.  Coulson  and  two  French  gentle- 
men. 

October  4th.  —  Read,  cut,  and  remarked  on  Bulwer's  comedy  of 
"  Money."  Helped  Willie  in  his  lessons.  Forster  came  to  dinner. 
Afterwards  read  the  play  of  "  Gisippus."  It  is  a  wonderful  play. 
All  were  charmed  with  it. 

5th.  —  Arranged  the  three  first  acts  of  the  comedy  of  "  Money." 
Catherine  received  a  letter  from  Miss  Martineau,  who  asks,  in  speak- 
ing of  this  world,  "  Can  there  be  any  one  who  believes  there  is  not 
another?"  Wrote  to  Miss  Herries,  thanking  her  for  her  copy 
(electrotype)  of  the  medal  of  Canova ;  inclosed  it  in  a  note  to  Hol- 
loway. 

Gth.  —  Went  to  Covent  Garden  Theater  to  see  Knowles's  play  of 
"  John  of  Procida."  I  paid  for  entrance,  a  slight  reproach,  I  think, 
to  the  manners,  taste,  and  feeling  of  the  present  management.  The 
play  was  not  interesting ;  there  were  good  scenes,  or  rather  parts  of 
good  scenes  in  it.  Mr.  Anderson  was  by  far  the  best  actor  in  the 
play  ;  he  is  much  improved.  I  saw  an  interlude  after  it,  full  of 
practical  jokes,  which  was  very  fairly  acted  by  Messrs.  Keeley  and 


1840.  REHEARSAL  OF  "  MONEY."  471 

Mathews,  but  it  was  poor  stuff.  I  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  quite  un- 
known in  the  theater,  where  not  a  year  and  a  half  ago  I  was  the  ob- 
served of  all  observers.  Such  is  the  world !  Walked  home  thinking 
on  my  art,  and  meditating  on  Othello. 

7th.  —  Read  over,  as  much  as  I  could,  Mr.  F.  Barbara's  play  of 
"  Socrates,"  in  which  Socrates  calls  his  wife,  Xantippe  —  Tippet. 
Wrote  a  note  to  the  author  upon  it.  Marked  three  acts  of  the  com- 
edy of  "  Money."  Zouch  Troughton  called  ;  went  over  with  him  the 
alterations  of  the  tragedy  of  "  Nina  Sforza,"  with  which  he  was  sat- 
isfied ;  he  took  the  book  with  him  for  insertions. 

$th.  —  Played  at  Piquet  in  order  to  learn  the  game  for  the  new 
play,  "  Money." 

13th.  —  Looked  at  the  newspaper,  in  which  I  read  the  notice  of 
the  opening  of  Drury  Lane  Theater  with  "  Concerts  d'Hiver."  Not 
one  word  of  regret,  remonstrance,  or  concern  at  this  perversion  of 
the  edifice  from  its  purposes ;  not  a  whisper  of  complaint  against  the 
tyranny  that  gives  to  it  the  power  of  preventing  other  theaters  from 
acting  Shakespeare,  whilst  it  cannot  or  will  not  represent  the  drama 
itself !  Went  to  the  theater  to  rehearse  "  The  Stranger."  Returning, 
called  on  Dickens  and  appointed  to  go  with  him  to  the  theater.  Gave 
the  afternoon  to  make  Willie  do  and  understand  his  lesson,  in  which 
I  hope  and  think  I  succeeded.  Called  for  Dickens,  and  went  to  see 
"  The  Spanish  Curate  "  at  Covent  Garden  ;  with  the  exception  of 
Messrs.  Anderson  and  Keeley,  the  play  was  very,  very  badly  acted, 
dressed  with  no  regard  to  costume,  and,  upholstered  for  all  times,  the 
characters  were  -not  understood.  I  expected,  and  sat  shrinking  to 
hear  the  hiss,  which  did  not  come  ;  the  audience  applauded,  though 
coldly  and  flatly.  I  cannot  but  see  the  vast  difference  between  what 
Covent  Garden  was,  and  what  it  has  descended  to. 

14th.  —  Mr.  Simpson  of  the  Birmingham  Theater  called,  and  talk- 
ing with  me  of  an  engagement,  left  me  with  the  understanding  that, 
if  I  was  free  and  willing  to  visit  Birmingham  at  Whitsuntide,  I  was 
to  write  and  apprise  him  of  the  fact,  and  to  receive  for  five  nights 
£250.  Answered  the  application  from  a  Mr.  Tiffany  with  an  auto- 
graph. Mason  called.  I  mentioned  the  London  Library  to  him  and 
gave  him  a  prospectus. 

24th.  —  Looked  over  what  I  could  of  the  comedy  of  "  Money." 
Went  to  the  theater  and  read  it  to  the  company,  who  were  very  much 
excited  by  it.  It  was  quite  successful  with  them. 

25th.  —  After  dinner  continued  my  work  on  "  Money,"  about  which 
I  begin  to  have  my  usual  apprehensions. 

27th.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Braysher,  Miss  Faucit,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hall, 
Blanchard,  W.  Boxall,  and  Stone  dined  with  us. 

28th.  —  Went  to  the  rehearsal  of  "  Money,"  at  the  end  of  which 
Bulwer  came  with  a  note  of  the  dresses  of  the  various  characters. 
Came  home  extremely  tired,  and  slept,  or  tried  to  sleep,  the  whole 
afternoon  —  at  least,  as  much  as  I  had  of  afternoon.  Acted  Claude 
Melnotte  very  fairly  ;  was  called  for  and  well  received. 


472  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1840. 

November  2d. —  Rose  in  tolerably  good  time,  and  attended  to  Nina's 
sum.  Read  the  newspaper  and  used  the  interim  between  the  hour  of 
rehearsal  in  writing  out  the  letter  to  Dr.  Griffin,  proposing  £300  for 
the  play  of  "  Gisippus,"  and  £50  more,  if  its  run  should  extend  to 
twenty-five  nights.  My  right  to  last  only  five  years  from  the  date  of 
the  agreement,  two  of  which,  it  is  obvious  I  must  lose.  Went  to  the 
theater  and  rehearsed  the  two  last  acts  of  the  comedy  of  "  Money." 

5th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  spent  two  hours  in  the  re- 
hearsal of  one  page  of  the  club  scene  in  the  new  comedy.  As  I  write, 
doubt  and  misgivings  arise  in  my  mind.  I  have  nothing  great  or 
striking  in  situation,  character,  humor,  or  passion  to  develop.  The 
power  of  all  this  is  thrown  on  Mr.  Strickland  and  partially  on  Mr. 
Webster. 

Gth.  —  Catherine  took  me  down  to  the  Shakespeare  Society  in  a 
carriage.  I  met  there  Collier,  Toniliu,  Dilkie,  Ayrton  Amyot,  Bruce, 
T.  Campbell,  Courtenay,  and  Kenney.  The  laws  and  resolutions  of 
the  society  were  discussed  in  a  very  harmonious  manner.  Received 
Dr.  Griffin's  answer,  with  full  acceptance  of  my  proposal  for  the  MS. 
of  "  Gisippus." 

10th. —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bishop,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brockedon,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Dickens,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Warren,  Beazley,  Cartwright,  and  Price 
came  to  dinner. 

13th.  —  Went  to  the  theater,  where  I  rehearsed  three  acts,  or  the 
better  part  of  three  acts,  of  the  new  comedy. 

17th.  —  Called  on  Rogers,  and  sat  some  time  with  him.  Proposed 
to  him  the  plan  for  the  monument  to  Mrs.  Siddons,  into  which  he 
warmly  entered,  observing  that  Mrs.  Siddons  had  said  to  him,  on  the 
occasion  of  her  brother's  monument,  "  I  hope,  Mr.  Rogers,  that  one 
day  justice  will  be  done  to  women."  He  cordially  took  it  up. 

20th.  —  Went  to  theater.  Rehearsed  with  much  pains  the  three 
first  acts  of  "  Money,"  in  which  I  find  I  have  very  little  to  do,  but  I 
must  strive  to  make  the  most  of  it.  Bulwer  came  to  the  rehearsal. 
D'Orsay  called  to  see  what  I  wanted.  I  inquired  of  him  his  Jiatter, 
the  mode  of  keeping  accounts  at  the  clubs  in  play,  about  servants,  etc. 
It  was  very  kind  in  him.  A  long  debate  about  announcing  the  play, 
which  was  fixed  for  Thursday,  etc.  Gave  the  whole  evening  to  the 
cutting,  arranging,  and  preparing  "  Money."  Wrote  out  the  whole 
club  scene.  Very  late. 

21  st.  —  «  Lady  of  Lyons." 

23d.—  "Werner." 

24/7*.  —  "  Lady  of  Lyons." 

25lk.  —  My  blessed  Joan  taken  from  us.     God's  will  be  done. 

30th.  —  Funeral  of  Joan. 

December  8th.  —  Went  to  the  Haymarket  and  rehearsed  the  play 
of  "  Money."  I  was  very  much  depressed  and  low-spirited.  Coming 
home,  read  over  the  part,  and  resolved  to  do  my  best  with  it.  Laid 
out  and  put  up  my  clothes.  Acted  the  part  of  Evelyn.  Not  satisfied. 
I  wanted  lightness,  self-possession,  and,  in  the  serious  scenes,  truth. 


1841.  CALCULATIONS  OF  EXPENSES.  473 

I  was  not  good  —  I  feel  it.  In  the  last  scene  Miss  Faucit,  as  I  had 
anticipated,  had  quite  the  advantage  over  me  ;  this  was  natural.  Bul- 
wer  came  into  my  room ;  he  was,  as  usual,  obliged  by  my  exertions.1 

1 6th.  —  Acted  Evelyn  better  than  I  had  previously  done,  but  it  is 
an  ineffective  inferior  part. 

23d.  —  Received  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  answer,  who  refers  my 
request  to  the  proprietors  of  Drury  Lane  and  Covent  Garden  —  the 
oppressed  to  the  oppressor. 

31st.  —  The  last  day  of  a  year  has  now  become  a  grave  and  solemn 
thing  to  me :  I  feel  my  approach  toward  a  change  of  being,  and  I 
cannot  contemplate  without  sad  and  serious  thoughts  the  ;'  shadows, 
clouds,  and  darkness  that  rest  upon  it."  My  heart  lifts  up  its  prayer 
to  God  for  blessings  on  my  beloved  family  through  time  to  come. 
Amen. 

1841. 

[Additional  Sentence  prefixed  to  diary  :] 

"  Quant  a  la  religion,  je  pense  que  Dieu  n'est  ni  Presbyte'rien,  ni  Lutherien,  ni 
de  la  haute  eglise ;  Dieu  est  le  Pere  de  tous  les  hommes." 

London,  January  1st.  —  With  prayers,  earnest  and  devout,  to  Al- 
mighty God  for  His  Divine  protection  against  all  the  evils  which  the 
machinations  of  others  or,  what  I  more  fear,  the  bad  passions  and  in- 
firmities of  my  own  nature,  may  bring  against  me,  and  with  heartfelt 
supplication  for  the  health,  in  mind  and  body,  of  my  dear  family,  I 
enter  upon  the  present  year.  "  O  God  deal  not  with  me  after  my 
sins;  neither  reward  me  after  mine  iniquities."'  I  implore  of  Thee, 
O  God,  grace  and  gentleness  of  spirit,  charity  of  heart  towards  my 
fellow-men  in  word  and  deed,  and  resolution  over  my  evil  inclinations, 
that  I  may  atone  by  my  conduct  in  the  time  to  come,  for  the  offenses 
that  have  stained  the  past,  and  be  in  act  and  thought,  a  worthy  disci- 
ple of  Jesus  Christ. 

2d.  —  Looked  at  the  newpaper,  and  seeing  an  advertisement  of  a 
testimonial  to  Lord  Holland's  memory,  sent  live  guineas  in  a  note  to 
Coutts.  I  think  it  was  right  and  prudent  to  do  it,  otherwise  the 
money  was  an  object :  it  is  my  business  to  endeavor  to  accumulate. 

3d.  —  Arranged  my  week's  accounts,  and  gave  much  time  to  scruti- 
nizing the  last  year's  expenditure,  which  I  find  very  heavy.  Endeav- 
ored to  ascertain  the  average  of  my  expenses  for  the  current  year : 
found  them  to  be  so"  heavy  that,  unless  I  use  great  caution  and  econ- 
omy (which  I  pray  God  I  may  be  able  to  do),  I  shall  realize  nothing 
out  of  a  splendid  income.  Pursued  my  calculations,  by  which  I  find 
that,  if  I  exceed  in  my  expenditure  an  average  of  £190  per  calendar 
month,  I  can  never  expect  to  realize  independence. 

1  Money  had  a  long  run,  and  no  other  play  was  given  at  the  Haymarket  until 
the  end  of  Macready's  engagement  there,  on  13th  March  in  the  following  year 
(1841).  — ED. 


474  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1841. 

4th.  —  Looked  through  the  play  of  "  The  Sculptor,"  and  found  it  a 
most  outrageous  absurdity.  Wrote  a  note  and  addressed  it  with  the 
MS.  of  the  author,  to  be  left  at  the  stage  door. 

5th.  —  Went  to  the  theater  where  I  read  the  play  of  "  Nina  Sforza  " 
in  a  room,  or  rooms,  for  we  were  driven  from  one  to  another,  choking 
us  with  smoke.  I  was  glad  that  I  had  chosen  the  part  of  Spinola ;  I 
must  work  hardly  at  it. 

§th.  —  Forster  read  me  a  sketch  of  characters,  for  a  comedy  by 
Bulwer,  of  which  I  thought  very  poorly.  He  talked  of  Cromwell, 
but  that  I  think  beyond  all  but  Shakespeare. 

7th.  —  Read  a  little  of  "  Nina  Sforza,"  went  to  rehearsal  with  Mrs. 
Stirling,  who  takes  the  part  of  Clara  in  the  play  to-night.  Nina  called 
for  me,  and  I  went  with  her  to  Sir  F.  Chantrey's ;  he  was  out  of  town ; 
we  looked  into  the  studio.  We  walked  home  through  Belgrave  Square, 
and  the  Park ;  the  weather  made  the  exercise  quite  an  enjoyment  to 
me.  Nina  did  her  sum  in  the  afternoon.  Edward  sent  a  note  with 
Napier's  last  two  volumes,  and  borrowed  first.  He  called,  after  I  had 
rested,  and  I  left  him  here,  when  I  went  to  the  theater.  Acted  Eve- 
lyn tolerably  well.  Was  much  pleased  with  Mrs.  Stirling  in  Clara. 
She  speaks  with  freshness  and  truth  of  tone. 

10th.  —  To  my  very  great  satisfaction,  Catherine  found  the  old 
family  prayer-book  of  my  mother,  in  which  the  births  of  her  family 
are  entered,  as  I  suppose  by  her  father  and  mother,  and  of  her  own 
children  by  my  father  and  by  herself.  It  is  an  evidence  of  my  age, 
and  might  possibly  be  required  to  prove  my  real  time  of  birth ;  and 
correct  an  erroneous  entry  in  the  parish  register  which  makes  me  a 
year  older. 

1 1th.  —  Went  up '  to  the  drawing-room,  after  reading  a  scene  of 
"  Nina  Sforza,"  to  see  Forster,  who  was  there.  He  read  me  a  letter 
from  Bulwer,  starting  the  idea  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole  as  a  dramatic 
character.  I  caught  at  it. 

12th.  —  My  dear  children  not  very  satisfactory  over  their  early  les- 
sons ;  perhaps  my  desire  of  seeing  them  advance  may  make  me  too 
exacting  and  impatient,  yet  I  try  to  check  my  tendency  to  haste. 
Looked  through  chapters  of  History  of  England  for  information  on 
Walpole. 

13th.  —  Mr.  King  called  to  give  Willie  a  lesson,  but  we  were  coated 
and  hatted  to  go  out  and  I  begged  him  off.  We  went  to  Sir  Francis 
Chantrey's.  I  showed  Willie  his  statue  of  Washington  ;  we  went  into 
his  library,  and  I  sat  with  him  an  inordinate  length  of  time.  I  opened 
my  views,  into  which  he  cordially  entered  ;  I  told  him  of  Rogers  and 
he  said  he  would  see  him.  lie  evidently  likes  the  undertaking,  and 
would  wish  to  make  a  bust  of  Mrs.  Siddons.  He  preferred  speaking 
himself  to  Milman  about  the  place  in  the  Abbey  for  it,  before  I  again 
addressed  the  Dean  and  Chapter.  He  pressed  us  to  stay  luncheon, 
which  we  did,  and  went  with  him  and  Lady  Chantrey  into  the  draw- 
ing-room. 

17th.  —  Saw  my  darling   Henry  dressed  for  the   first   time  these 


1841.  "MASTER  HUMPHREY'S  CLOCK."  475 

many,  many  days.  Since  his  bed  has  been  his  garment,  his  sweet 
little  sister,  blessed  Joan,  has  been  laid  in  her  cold  bed,  never  to  glad- 
den my  sight  again,  the  dear,  sweet  child  !  How  long,  how  very  long 
it  seems  since  then !  The  time  seems  to  have  no  distinct  marks  ;  it 
looks,  as  I  turn  back,  a  long,  dreary,  heavy  distance  ;  it  has  no  clear 
marking  by  which  to  trace  back  the  course  of  one's  life  in  it. 

21st.  —  Called  on  Dickens  and  gave  him  Barley's  first  copy  of 
"  Ethelstan."  We  walked  out,  called  on  Rogers ;  I  told  him  that 
Chantrey  was  to  see  him,  and  mentioned  my  proposal  of  setting  the 
subscription  on  foot :  he  readily  approved  all.  Asked  Dickens  to 
spare  the  life  of  Nell  in  his  story  ("Master  Humphrey's  Clock"),  and 
observed  that  he  was  cruel.  He  blushed,  and  men  who  blush  are  said 
to  be  either  proud  or  cruel ;  he  is  not  proud,  and  therefore  —  or,  as 
Dickens  added  —  the  axiom  is  false.  He  invited  us  to  dine  on  Sunday 
sennight.  We  went  on  to  leave  my  note  and  card  for  Darley  at  the 
Clarence ;  called  in  at  the  Athenaeum,  where  Dickens  took  some 
refreshment.  Went  on  to  his  printers'  in  Fleet  Street.  Called  and 
bought  spectacles  and  thermometer  at  Gary's.  Walked  home,  was 
tired,  and  rested. 

Tried  to  act  Evelyn,  and  did  my  best,  but  it  was  not  good. 

22d. —  Arranged  the  persons  to  whom  I  would  apply  for  Mrs. 
Siddons's  monument,  and  wrote  notes  on  the  subject  to  Bulwer,  to 
Young,  to  Talfourd  ;  Catherine  wrote  to  Fanny  Twiss.  Went  to  the 
theater,  and  acted  Evelyn  with  much  effort ;  I  was  quite  wearied  down. 
Found  at  home  notes  from  Ransom,  and  one  from  Dickens  with  au 
onward  number  of  "  Master  Humphrey's  Clock."  I  saw  one  print  in 
it  of  the  dear  dead  child  that  gave  a  dead  chill  through  my  blood.  I 
dread  to  read  it,  but  I  must  get  it  over. 

I  have  read  the  two  numbers ;  I  never  have  read  printed  words  that 
gave  me  so  much  pain.  I  could  not  weep  for  some  time.  Sensation, 
sufferings  have  returned  to  me,  that  are  terrible  to  awaken  :  it  is  real 
to  me  ;  I  cannot  criticise  it. 

25th.  —  Gave  the  dear  children  their  lessons  and  looked  at  the 
newspaper.  Went  out  in  carriage,  and  proceeded  to  the  Equitable 
Insurance  Office,  where  I  paid  my  yearly  due,  £120  5s.,  thence  to  the 
Bank,  where  I  received  my  own  and  Twiss's  dividends.  Called  on 
Campbell,  whom  I  found  at  home,  and  to  whom  I  mentioned  the  pur- 
pose of  placing  Mrs.  Siddons's  bust  in  the  Abbey ;  he  entered  into  it 
as  cordially  as  he  could  into  anything,  for  he  has  not  the  cestrum  in  his 
manner.  He  expressed  himself  anxious  to  improve  our  acquaintance. 
Called  at  Forster's,  thence  to  Ransom's  where  I  paid  in  my  dividends, 
onward  to  find  Sheil's  dwelling,  which  I  could  not  discover,  to  Sir 
Francis  Chantrey's,  with  whom  I  had  again  a  long  talk.  He  interests 
me  much  by  his  downright  manner  and  his  confidence  with  regard  to 
his  conceptions.  He  approved  the  committee.  I  saw  Allan  Cunning- 
ham, and  expressed  myself  willing  to  receive  his  play  of  "  Wallace," 
about  which  he  had  written  to  me  Called  at  Lord  Lansdowne's ;  he 
was  just  going  to  the  Council  at  the  Palace.  I  merely  left  my  card. 


476  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1841. 

To  Sir  M.  A.  Shee,  whom  I  found  at  home  and  Gaily  Knight  sitting 
to  him. 

Shee  was  inclined  to  object,  but  I  mentioned  the  limit  of  the  sub- 
scription and  he  courteously  assented. 

26tk.  —  Wrote  notes  about  Mrs.  Sidclons's  monument  to  Lord  Lans- 
downe,  to  Lord  Denman,  to  Lord  Aberdeen,  to  Lord  Francis  P^gerton, 
to  Mil  man. 

21th.  —  Thought  a  good  deal  upon  my  prospects  and  claims ;  cal- 
culated for  my  children's  good,  and  see  little  to  reason  me  from  the 
necessity  of  again  entering  management,  if  I  can  do  so  without  hazard 
of  what  I  possess.  The  stage  seems  to  want  me.  There  is  no  theater, 
but  that  to  a  man  with  a  family  is  no  argument ;  there  is  no  theater 
for  me,  and  that  is  an  overwhelming  plea.  Then  much  may  be  done 
of  good  in  all  ways. 

*2$th.  —  Wrote  to  Horace  Twiss,  to  Lord  Northampton,  to  Thomas 
Moore,  to  Sheil,  to  Lord  Normanby,  to  Hallam,  to  Babbage,  to  Mr. 
Milnes,  all  on  the  Siddons  monument. 

31  st.  —  Dickens  called  for  me  and  I  accompanied  him  to  Rogers's, 
where  we  dined.  Met  Eastlake,  Colonel  Fox,  Kenney,  Maltby,  Sir 
George  Talbot,  Babbage,  and  a  young  man  whom  I  had  met  at  Lord 
Lansdowne's.  A  pleasant  day.  Showed  Rogers  my  committee  list, 
with  which  he  was  pleased. 

February  1st.  —  Wrote  notes  to  Lockhart,  Procter,  Sir  G.  Calcott, 
Barry,  Gockerell,  H.  Taylor,  inviting  them  to  be  on  the  Siddons  com- 
mittee. 

7th.  —  Wrote  a  note,  as  copy  for  one  to  Lords  Carnarvon,  Leigh, 
and  Mahon,  on  the  Siddons  committee.  Wrote  a  note  of  congratula- 
tion on  his  birthday  to  Dickens. 

Collier,  Kenney,  Z.  Troughton,  and  Ainsworth  came  to  dinner. 

London,  March  3d.  —  I  am  forty -eight  years  old  to-day. 

22d.  —  Called  on  Bulwer  and  talked  with  him  on  the  business  of  the 
Siddons  committee.  Went  to  Exeter  Hall.  Milman  came,  Gaily 
Knight,  then  Lord  Lansdowne.  We  talked  and  waited  some  time,  and 
no  one  coming,  proceeded  to  business.  Rogers  dropped  in,  as  we  had 
voted  three  or  four  resolutions,1  which  were  approved.  Then  Bulwer 

i  THE  SIDDONS  MONUMENT. 

At  n  meeting  of  the  committee  held  at  Exeter  Hall,  on  the  22d  of  March,  1841, 
the  most  noble  the  Marquis  of  Lansdowne  in  the  Chair,  the  following  resolutions 
were  unanimously  ngrcd  to  :  — 

Resolved,  —  That  as  monuments  have  been  erected  in  Westminster  Abbey,  to 
the  memory  of  many  distinguished  professors  of  the  dramatic  art,  it  is  an  omis- 
sion on  the  part  of  those,  who  drew  delight  and  instruction  from  the  sublime  per- 
sonations of  Mrs.  Siddons,  that  the  name  of  that  actress,  who,  by  a  singular  union 
of  the  highest  intellectual  and  physical  qualifications,  transcended  the  artists  of  her 
own,  or  perhaps,  of  any  other  time,  should  have  so  long  remained  without  public 
record  or  notice. 

Resolved,  —  That  in  order  to  render  justice  to  her  rare  perfections,  and  convey  to 
posterity  some  idea  of  the  estimation  in  which  her  surpassing  powers  were  held  by 
her  contemporaries,  a  bust  or  statue  of  Mrs.  Siddons  be  placed  in  Westminster 
Abbey. 


1841.  NEGOTIATIONS  FOR  DRURY  LANE.  477 

came  ;  an  excuse  from  Dickens  and  Tom  Moore.  The  bankers,  adver- 
tisements, etc.,  were  all  arranged.  Lord  L.  undertook  to  write  to 
Chantrey.  Mrs.  Jameson,  Mrs.  Pierce  Butler,  Kenney,  Dickens, 
Travers,  Harness,  and  Rogers  dined  with  us. 

23d.  —  Beazley  and  Dunn  called  and  we  talked  over  the  feasibility 
of  re-opening  Drury  Lane  Theater  as  a  theater.  I  mentioned  what 
must  form  the  basis  of  any  agreement  —  liberty  to  close  at  a  day's 
notice ;  no  compulsion  to  pay  any  rent ;  no  rent  to  be  paid  before 
Christmas  ;  my  salary  to  be  included  among  the  working  expenses  of 
the  theater ;  the  theater  not  to  be  opened  before  Christmas  ;  to  be 
mine  in  virtue  of  a  clear  lesseeship ;  not  for  the  committee  to  have  the 
power  of  letting  it  during  my  vacation,  etc.  Babbage,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Swinfen  Jervis,  Lady  Jenkins,  Lord  Nugent,  Sir  E.  Bulwer,  Dr.  Quin 
came  to  dinner. 

2±th.  —  Wrote  out  the  heads  of  my  stipulations  in  any  agreement 
with  Drury  Lane  proprietors.  Lord  Glengall  and  Dunn  called ;  I 
read  my  stipulations,  which  were  considered  admissible.  Lord  Glen- 
gall  was  earnest  to  carry  the  proposed  agreement  into  effect.  When 
they  were  gone,  I  wrote  notes  of  summons  to  Serle  and  Anderson. 

Northallerton,  Tynemouth,  March  28th. —  Felt  a  pleasure  in  seeing 
in  the  inn  yard  the  name  of  the  landlord  which  I  had  always  known  at 
this  house  ;  he  has  passed  away,  but  the  name  was  still  something  of 
what  I  once  knew.  The  waiter,  too,  though  I  could  hardly  recognize 
him,  proved  on  inquiry  to  be  the  same  who  had  waited  on  me  about 
thirty  years  ago.  Everything  teaches  me  that  this  is  a  world  of  change, 
and  yet  how  slowly  and  reluctantly  we  learn  the  lesson.  I  breakfasted 
and  posted  on,  reading  Richelieu  first.  Often  checked  by  scenes  well 
remembered  and  connected  with  persons  now  no  more,  and  with  feel- 
ings long  since  dead  !  My  early  youth,  its  passions,  despondings,  un- 
certain views,  imaginings  and  dreams  were  here,  and  many,  many 
thoughts  and  feelings,  sufferings,  and  enjoyments  returned  to  me  with 
the  scenes  I  revisited.  Considered  "  Romeo  and  Juliet "  as  a  play  to 
be  restored  to  the  original  text,  and  saw  its  pathetic  simplicity  and 
legendary  character  so  far  above  the  Frenchy  melodrama  of  Garrick. 
Looked  over  Macbeth.  Intended  to  post  to  South  Shields  and  cross 
the  ferry  to  Tynernouth,  but  stopped  and  turned  the  postboy  and  made 
him  go  to  Newcastle,  from  thence  to  take  the  railway.  Was  half  an 
hour  before  the  train  started ;  lunched,  wrote  a  note  for  Miss  Martineau. 
Saw  Hedley  Vicars,  who  called,  and  received  a  note  from  him.  Went 
by  railway  to  North  Shields.  Walked  to  Tynemouth,  and  inquiring 
at  the  post-office  Miss  Martineau's  address,  called  on  her,  sending  up 
my  note:  she  was  very  glad  to  see  me.  We  talked  over  many  things 
and  persons.  She  is  a  heroine,  or  to  speak  more  truly  her  fine  sense 

Resolved,  —  That  in  order  to  afford  the  opportunity  of  participating  in  this 
object  to  those  who  enjoyed  the  delight  of  witnessing  the  representations  of  this 
great  actress,  or  who  have  profited,  in  the  performances  of  inferior  artists,  by  the 
lessons  her  genius  taught,  the  expenses  of  the  proposed  monument  be  met  by  a 
public  subscription.  —  ED. 


478  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1841. 

and  her  lofty  principles,  with  the  eincerest  religion,  give  her  a  fortitude 
that  is  noble  to  the  best  height  of  heroism. 

Newcastle,  March  29<A.  —  Mr.  Ternan  called,  and  I  walked  with  him 
to  the  theater,  where  I  rehearsed  Macbeth ;  rehearsed  it  well,  so  well 
that  I  felt  myself  not  quite  hors  de  la  tragedie.  I  feared  I  should  not 
act  it  so  well. 

Acted  Macbeth  with  all  the  spirit  I  could  press  into  it.  Considering 
my  rust,  not  having  acted  it  since  1839,  I  did  not  make  so  bad  an 
effort.  Was  called  for,  and  very  cordially  greeted. 

30th.  —  Letters  from  Mr.  Thome,  manager  at  Durham,  with  invita- 
tion, and  one  from  Wightwick  urging,  in  a  guarded  way,  the  experi- 
ment of  Plymouth,  which  I  think  I  shall  make.  But  no  more  con- 
secutive five  or  six  nights,  I  have  not  the  power  of  doing  justice  to 
myself  in  them.  Rehearsed  Richelieu  with  forebodings  of  a  dire 
event.  Peregrine  Ellison  called  twice  upon  me,  and  walked  with  me 
up  to  Hedley  Vicars's,  showing  me  the  new  Exchange  Room  by  the 
way.  He  was  most  kind.  There  is,  however,  a  melancholy  at  my 
heart,  which  often  rises  to  my  eyes,  in  thinking  of,  and  feeling  these 
marks  of  kindness  and  respect,  these  tributes  to  the  feelings  of  younger 
and  blither  days,  which  I  receive  from  the  remaining  individuals  of 
families  that  once  took  a  friendly  interest  in  me.  It  makes  me  ask, 
what  is  life  —  what  is  its  real  good  ?  Is  it  peace  —  is  it  fame  ?  It  is, 
if  it  could  be  found,  the  talisman  of  Orimanes  —  content  —  which  can- 
not be  without  virtue. 

Acted  Cardinal  Richelieu  in  all  the  horrors  of  an  imperfect  com- 
pany, but  we  got  through.  Was  called  for,  a  foolish  custom  as  an 
ordinary  one. 

3lst.  —  Peregrine  Ellison  called,  and  walked  with  me  over  the  new 
streets ;  pointing  out  to  me  the  old  map  by  sundry  relics,  such  as  the 
school  where  Lord  Eldon  was  brought  up,  the  Forth,  Waldie's  house, 
etc.  The  market,  the  Philosophical  Institution  —  open  to  everybody  — 
(bravissimo  !)  and  the  general  appearance  interested  and  pleased  me 
very  much  ;  but  I  was  sorry  too  to  see  the  old  streets,  which  used  to 
look  so  handsome  and  lively,  neglected,  squalid,  and  forsaken. 

I  used  the  afternoon  to  the  best  advantage,  between  rest,  and 
thought  of  Othello.  I  was  very  anxious  to  act  the  part  well,  and 
I  think  I  have  never  acted  it  better  —  certainly,  never  in  a  more  sus- 
tained heroic  style.  I  thought  the  audience  must  have  felt  that  much 
was  real  and  original  —  by  that  word  I  mean  the  feeling  taken  directly 
from  the  part. 

London,  April  4th.  —  Young,  the  pantomimist,  called,  and  agreed  to 
set  to  work. 

Anderson  and  Serle  called,  and  we  discussed  the  various  facts  before 
us.  I  mentioned  my  intention  of  writing  Miss  Kelly  to  take  the  old 
women.  They  left  me.  Elliotson  called,  and  prescribed  for  me. 

5th.  —  Went  to  Drury  Lane  and,  with  Serle,  met  the  Drury  Lane 
Committee,  Lord  Glengall,  Messrs.  Allen,  Durrant  (Burgess,  Secre- 
tary ;  Dunn,  Treasurer),  and,  afterwards,  Sir  William  Curtis.  They 


1841.  BIRMINGHAM.  479 

discussed  the  heads  of  the  proposals  submitted  to  them,  and  were  all 
avowedly  anxious  for  my  tenancy.  They  wished  to  put  the  taxes  of 
the  theater  in  the  current  expenses. 

Gth.  —  Called  on  Miss  Kelly,  who  showed  me  over  her  theater, 
which  is  very  pretty.  I  stated  my  business  to  her,  proposing  to  her 
the  line  of  old  characters  acted  by  Miss  Pope,  Mrs.  Mattocks,  etc., 
talked  long  with  her  and  left  her,  promising  to  send  her  a  proposal. 
Forster  dined  with  me.  I  went  to  call  for  H.  Smith,  and  he  accom- 
panied me  to  the  theater.  The  General  Committee  was  sitting ;  we 
met  them.  I  explained  my  views  ;  they  deliberated.  We  met  them 
again,  and  they  gave  me  the  theater,  in  which  undertaking  may  God 
prosper  me. 

Birmingham,  April  13th . —  Acted  Macbeth  with  great  spirit,  i.  e., 
began  it  so,  and  felt  that  my  acting  begins  to  want  spirit,  which  I  must 
attend  to.  Was  marred  and  utterly  deprived  of  my  effects  by  the 

"  support "  of  a  Mr. and  others  in  the  last  act.  Was  in  a  violent 

passion,  and  in  that  behaved  very  ill.  Oh,  my  cottage,  my  cottage ! 
shall  I  die  without  visiting  thee,  and  learning,  from  nature  and  com- 
munion with  my  God,  the  blessed  lesson  of  self-control ! 

14th.  —  Sent  £1  to  a  Miss whom  I  only  just  knew,  but  who 

knew  acquaintances  of  mine.  She  is  now  apparently  destitute.  I 
remember  thinking,  as  a  boy,  her  father  a  very  proud  man,  who  kept 
a  gig,  and  a  person  of  consequence ;  he  had  a  toy  shop,  well  and  long 
known  in  this  street.  The  changes  of  things  and  thoughts  ! 

I  tried  to  act  Richelieu  well,  and  did  my  best  with  a  company  and  a 
Mr.  C that  would  paralyze  a  Hercules.  The  house  was  enor- 
mous ;  I  went  forward  to  a  call  that  I  could  not  evade,  but  reluctantly. 
I  have  not  had  time  to  think  before  of  my  early  days  here.  As  I  re- 
turned to  my  hotel,  I  looked  for  the  house  where  I  passed  many  days 
of  my  boyhood.  It  was  the  last  house  in  which  I  saw  my  blessed 
mother  alive ;  I  received  her  last  kiss  there,  to  return  it  on  her  marble 
forehead,  as  she  lay  in  her  coffin  (the  blessed  woman)  in  Norfolk 
Street,  Sheffield.  Good  God !  for  what  are  we  here  ?  The  years  of 
passion,  of  suffering,  that  have  passed ;  the  unsatisfactory  sum  of  all 
they  have  produced  ;  the  dissatisfaction  that  remains,  urge  on  the 
question  —  How  much  of  chance  is  there  in  life  !  Yet  how  much  more 
is  there  in  conduct  than  in  fortune  !  Of  that  I  am  sure,  and  I  only 
quarrel  with  my  imperfect  education,  and  the  painful  consequences  of 
a  faulty  example. 

15th. —  Acted  Virginius  with  care  and  pains  and  I  thought  in  some 
parts  well.  The  audience  seemed  interested,  but  did  not  applaud  with 
the  fervency  they  used  to  do.  They  called  determinedly,  and  I  went 
reluctantly  ;  was  well  received.  Mr.  Simpson  spoke  to  me  after  the 
play.  In  thinking  over  the  very  few  occasions  left  me  in  my  life  to 
repeat  my  visit  here,  I  fell  into  a  train  of  thought  in  which  the  ques- 
tion of  the  actual  value  of  life,  as  to  my  individual  personal  enjoy- 
ments, came  palpably  before  me.  My  children  are  my  life.  My 
ruminations  led  me  to  see,  in  my  mind's  eye,  my  own  body  stretched 


480  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1841. 

out  in  its  stiff  and  yellow  coldness,  my  sunken  rigid  face,  my  clinched 
jaws,  and  the  whole  picture  of  shrouded  death  in  my  own  person.  It 
brought  that  blessed  and  lovely  child,  my  darling  Joan,  to  my  mind, 
whose  death  has  very  much  loosened  the  sort  of  bond  of  instinct  that 
held  me  on  to  life.  I  feel  now,  in  dying,  I  shall  have  something  to 
go  to. 

1 6th.  —  An  old  friend,  a  friend  of  my  early  boyhood,  when  eight  or 
nine  years  old,  or  younger,  called  on  me  —  a  fat  old  gentleman  of  sixty 
—  talked  of  old  days,  brought  back  the  dawnings  of  a  life,  high  spirits, 
an  impressible  nature.  What  a  creature  of  impulse  and  wild  delight 
I  remember  myself!  Acted  Werner  with  much  care,  and  in  some 
respects  very  well,  bat  was  inconvenienced  by  Ulrich,  who  was  raw 

though  willing,  and  cut  up  root  and  branch  by  Mr.  C .  Was 

called  for,  and  very  enthusiastically  received.  I  addressed  the  au- 
dience, who  stood  up,  referring  to  their  early  patronage  of  me,  etc. 
What  I  said  seemed  to  please  very  much.  Wrote  to  dearest  Cather- 
ine, with  check,  etc. 

.Birmingham  to  Hugby  and  back,  April  18th.  —  Took  the  railway  to 
Rugby  and  arriving  at  the  station,  walked  to  the  town  by  a  new  road 
that  puzzled  me  to  know  my  exact  locality.  I  at  last  escaped  through 
a  broken  paling  into  a  little  dirty  lane,  which  was  evidently  of  the 
olden  time,  and  I  soon  began  to  guess  at  my  whereabouts,  which  the 
sight  of  Sir  Egerton  Leigh's  Anabaptist  Chapel  presently  assured  me 
of.  I  asked  an  old  woman  if  it  were  not  so,  and  her  answer  confirmed 
me.  I  walked  into  the  well-known  streets,  remembering  when  I  was 
but  a  promise,  and  now  —  what  has  been  my  performance  ?  for  we  are 
approaching  the  "fifth  act"  What  is  life  ?  A  false  thing —  or  rather 
a  thing  of  falsehoods.  What  are  the  men  that  Carlyle  calls  his  heroes 
but  fanatics,  followers  of  some  peculiar  imagination  ?  But  of  all  the 
falsehoods  that  make  up  man's  life,  the  common  "  religion  "  of  the  world 
is  the  worst  of  all.  With  a  real  religion  so  simple,  so  pure,  so  full  of 
good,  so  secure  of  recompense  in  its  practice  as  the  true  religion  of 
Christ  is,  we  have  in  its  place  the  Church  of  England,  Kornanisin, 
Presbyterianism,  and  the  innumerable  shades  and  schisms  of  each,  but 
no  Christianity  in  the  feeling  or  the  practice  of  them.  Oh,  for  an 
Apostle  of  the  Truth  !  He  must  be  near  at  hand.  I  walked  into  the  lit- 
tle dining-room  of  my  dear  old  friend  and  benefactor,  he  looked  hardly 
at  me,  not  knowing  or  expecting  me ;  at  last  he  recognized  me  with 
delight.  I  was  affected  in  seeing  him.  I  feel  very  uncertain,  if  I  am 
ever  able  to  see  him  again.  I  saw  Mary  Winstanly  and  her  family,  a 
very  fine  one,  growing  up,  the  eldest  to  an  adult  age.  I  went  with 
Birch  to  the  old  church  and  sat  where,  as  a  boy,  1  used  to  say  my 
prayers.  I  looked  for  old  faces,  but  saw  very  few ;  old  things,  but 
not  many  persons.  We  talked  over  the  school-days,  and  the  fates  of 
various  men  who  were  at  school  with  me.  We  parted.  Birch  kissed 
me,  and  was  affected.  Nature  would  whisper  to  him,  as  it  did  to  me 
in  meeting —  God  knows  if  we  may  ever  meet  in  this  world  again ! 
He  has  been  to  me  the  friend  of  my  life,  my  relation,  my  tutor,  my 


1841.  EXETER  — PLYMOUTH.  481 

benefactor.  God  bless  him.  Posted  back  to  Birmingham  with  all 
speed,  every  house  almost  along  the  road  familiar  to  me.  Bilton, 
where  I  could  not  repress  a  smile  at  the  recollection  of  my  boyish  im- 
pudence. Arrived  in  good  time  in  Birmingham. 

[ April  19th  to  April  28th.  —  Engagement  at  Bristol,  Exeter,  Plym- 
outh.] 

JZxeter,  April  23d.  —  Received  a  letter  with  extract  from  paper 
from  Wightwick,  who  seems  working  double  tides,  I  fear  too  much, 
to  reason  the  Plymouth  people  into  going  to  see  me.  I  opened  my 
letter  to  him  and  wrote  an  answer  to  his  last.  Wrote  to  dear  Cather- 
ine. Rehearsed  "  Richelieu,"  a  foretaste  of  the  performance.  Oh, 
this  does  not  repay  me,  even  when  gaining  money  !  As  it  is,  it  is 
mere  hard  suffering,  mind  and  body. 

Acted  Cardinal  Richelieu  as  well  as  the  wretched  murdering  of  the 
other  characters  would  let  me.  Was  called  for  and  politely  received, 
the  people  standing  up  when  I  came  on.  Saw  a  short  notice  of  myself 
in  one  of  the  papers. 

On  reflection  I  very  much  censure  myself  for  not  exhibiting  more 
sensibly  my  estimation  of  the  respect  which  the  audience  showed  me  ; 
they  stood  up  when  I  came  on,  and  though  I  acknowledged  this  com- 
pliment with  respect  and  apparent  pleasure,  yet  it  was  not  felt,  nor 
demonstrated  as  if  felt,  which  was  very  wrong.  I  did  not  merit  the 
honor  that  was  done  me.  I  lament  my  presumption  and  folly.  I 
would  never  be  guilty  of  such  absurd  want  of  proper  feeling  in  any 
similar  instance. 

Plymouth,  April  26th.  — •  Acted'  Macbeth  in  my  very  best  manner, 
positively  improving  several  passages,  but  sustaining  the  character  in  a 
most  satisfactory  manner.  "  J'ai  ete  le  personnage."  Was  felt  by  the 
audience.  They  called  for  me  and  received  me  most  cordially.  Colonel 
Hamilton  Smith  and  Wightwick  came  into  my  room.  Wightwick 
came  here  to  tea  with  me  and  sat  late.  Closed  dear  Catherine's  letter. 

I  have  improved  Macbeth.  The  general  tone  of  the  character  was 
lofty,  manly,  or  indeed  as  it  should  be,  heroic,  that  of  one  living  to 
command.  The  whole  view  of  the  character  was  constantly  in  sight : 
the  grief,  the  care,  the  doubt  was  not  that  of  a  weak  person,  but  of  a 
strong  mind  and  of  a  strong  man.  The  manner  of  executing  the  com- 
mand to  the  witches,  and  the  effect  upon  myself  of  their  vanishing  was 
justly  hit  off,  I  marked  the  cause.  The  energy  was  more  slackened 
—  the  great  secret.  A  novel  effect  I  thought  good,  of  restlessness  and 
an  uneasy  effort  to  appear  unembarrassed  before  Banquo,  previous  to 
the  murder.  The  banquet  was  improved  in  its  forced  hilarity  of  tone  ; 
the  scene  with  the  physician  very  much  so.  It  was  one  of  the  most 
successful  performances  of  Macbeth  I  ever  saw. 

London,  May  3d.  —  Went  to  rehearse  at  the  Haymarket  Theater. 
Acted  Evelyn.  A  gentleman  sent  ine  a  snuff-box,  a  very  pretty  one, 
from  the  boxes  as  a  token  of  his  admiration. 

May  5th.  —  Catherine  put  on  a  half-mourning  dress  to-day  ;  it  made 
me  sadder  than  the  deepest  black  could  have  done :  my  heart  was 
31 


482  MACREADrS  DIARIES.  1841. 

quite  sunk  in  thinking  that  it  seemed  like  beginning  to  take  leave  of 
sorrow  for  and  association  with  the  memory  of  my  blessed  Joan,  yet  in 
my  heart  of  hearts  that  sweet,  angelic  child  lives.  I  cannot  feel  that 
she  is  not.  Obtained  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  address  and  called  on  her 
after  rehearsal.  Saw  first  some  male  attaches,  and  afterwards  herself 
and  mother.  She  is  a  very  engaging,  graceful  little  person,  anything 
but  plain  in  person,  delicate  and  most  intelligent  features,  a  frank,  a 
French  manner,  synonymous  to  pleasing.  I  talked  with  her  some  lit- 
tle time  ;  invited  her  to  dine  on  Sunday,  which  she  accepted ;  asked 
her  if  she  would  visit  the  theater,  which  she  wished  to  do.  I  went  to 
Sams's  and  purchased  the  card  for  Mr.  Morris's  box,  which  I  took  to 
the  theater,  and  sent  to  her. 

May  9<A.  —  Madame  and  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Gurwood,  Mrs.  Norton,  Eastlake,  Young,  T.  Campbell,  Kenney,  Dr. 
Elliotson,  and  Quin  came  to  dinner. 

I  was,  indeed,  all  were,  delighted  with  Rachel ;  her  extreme  sim- 
plicity, her  ingenuousness,  earnestness,  and  the  intellectual  variation  of 
her  sweet  and  classic  features.  There  was  but  one  feeling  of  admira- 
tion and  delight  through  the  whole  party  at  and  after  dinner.  Mrs. 
Jameson,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Swinfen  Jervis,  the  Sheils,  Wyse,  Mr.  Curran, 
Troughton,  Babbage,  Fitzgerald,  Boxall,  Miss  Faucit,  Hetta,  Horace 
Twisses,  Lovers,  Forster,  Rogers,  Fred  White,  Mrs.  Procter,  Edward 
Kater,  Travers,  came  in  the  evening. 

l'2th.  —  Thought  of  what  I  ought  to  say  at  the  Literary  Fund  din- 
ner. Dined  at  the  Freemasons'  Tavern,  Lord  Ripon  in  the  Chair. 
Lord  Colborne,  Sir  C.Napier,  Sir'S.  Canning,  Mr.  Milnes,  Amyot, 
K.  Macaulay,  Barbara,  Brockedon,  etc.,  were  there.  The  speeches 
were  mostly  good. 

15th.  —  Last  night  of  Hay  market  engagement.  "  Money." 
Dublin,  May  l&th.  —  Rehearsed,  but  was  ill,  and  put  myself  out  of 
Macbeth.  Could  not  with  all  my  efforts  rally  into  the  character.  Re- 
turned to  my  hotel,  dined  moderately,  and  went  to  bed.  Rose  better, 
and,  inspirited  by  the  audience,  made  every  endeavor,  but  it  was  all 
effort.  I  could  not  revive  the  Plymouth  feeling. 

29th.  —  Acted  Werner  and  Claude  Melnotte,  a  very  foolish  thing, 
which  I  will  never  do  again. 

Liverpool,  May  3lst.  —  Acted  Macbeth  very  well  to  a  very  dull 
audience.  Was  very  angry.  Called  for  but  did  not  go  on. 

June  llth.  —  ["  Money."  Last  night  of  engagement  at  Dublin.] 
Birmingham,  June  12th.  —  Went  to  the  theater  —  the  theater 
where  my  early  youth  was  made  no  youth  —  where,  at  fifteen,  I  had  to 
watch  the  proceedings  of  the  management.  Ah  me,  it  was  a  very 
unhappy,  unprofitable  time  !  But  thank  God  that  so  much  good  has 
followed  on  the  prospect  of  so  much  ill!  Walked  about  the  stage 
and  came  home  to  dinner.  Looked  at  the  paper,  and  overran  the 
French  books  of  the  officer  who  usually  tenants  this  room.  Acted 
Cardinal .  Richelieu  unequally,  checked  by  ill-humor,  and  ended  the 
play  apparently  very  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  audience. 


1S41.  RACHEL'S  ACTING.  483 

Eastbourne,  June  20th.  —  Read  and  began  to  try  to  arrange  Dry- 
den's  "  King  Arthur,"  but  I  found  it  reminding  me  several  times  of 
the  machinery  and  position  of  the  characters  in  "  The  Tempest."  Was 
not  satisfied  with  it.  Liked  better  "  Acis  and  Galatea  "  and  "  Co- 
mus."  Gave  part  of  the  evening  to  my  dear  children.  Thought  over 
plays  for  Drury  Lane. 

.Eastbourne  to  London,  June  23d.  —  Rose  with  sensations  of  pain 
and  weariness  ;  packed  up  my  small  wardrobe,  and  set  off  for  London. 
On  my  way  read  Scribe's  comedy  of  "  La  Calomnie."  Serle,  T. 
Cooke,  and  Forster  came  to  dinner.  We  talked  over  much  business, 
but  the  principal  subject  was  the  engagement  of  Staudigl.  Went  to 
the  German  Opera ;  saw  "  Robert  le  Diable."  Thought  very  highly 
of  Staudigl's  performance  of  Bertram ;  but  do  not  think  him  an  ar- 
tist to  be  an  attraction. 

Birmingham,  June  25th  —  "  Lady  of  Lyons." 

Manchester,  June  26th.  —  "  Richelieu." 

London.  July  3d,  —  Went  to  Haymarket  Theater  ;  acted  Evelyn. 
[Engagement  at  Haymarket  to  7th  December.] 

5th.  —  After  dinner  went  to  the  Opera  House.  Read  in  Corneille's 
"  Cinna  "  the  scenes  of  Emilie.  Watched  with  intense  eagerness  the 
performance  of  the  part  by  Rachel.  I  must  confess  I  was  disappointed  ; 
she  has  undoubtedly  genius ;  grace  in  a  high  degreer  and  perfect  self- 
possession.  But  she  disappointed  me ;  she  has  no  tenderness,  nor  has 
she  grandeur.  She  did  not  dilate  with  passion ;  the  appeal  to  the 
gods  was  not  that  grand  swell  of  passion  that  lifts  her  up  above  the 
things  (too  little  for  its  communion)  of  earth  to  the  only  powers  ca- 
pable of  sympathizing  with  her.  She  did  not  seem  to  commune  with 
the  Manes  of  *her  father.  Her  apostrophe  to  the  liberty  of  Rome 
was  not  "  up  to  the  height  of  the  great  argument."  She  was  stinging, 
scornful,  passionate,  but  little  in  her  familiar  descents,  and  wanting  in 
the  terrible  struggle,  the  life  and  death  conflict,  between  her  love  and 
her  revenge.  The  "  sharp  convulsive  pangs  of  agonizing  pride  "  and 
fondness  were  not  felt.  She  is  not  equal  to  Mars  or  Miss  O'Neill,  but 
she  is  the  first  actress  of  her  day. 

1th.  —  I  went  to  the  English  Opera  House,  and  saw  a  piece  on 
"  Baruaby  Rudge,"  Miss  Fortescue  acting  the  part  of  Barnaby  with 
great  vivacity  and  grace  and  power. 

2th.  —  Took  dear  Willie  with  me  to  the  Kensal  Green  Cemetery, 
where  my  blessed  Joan  sleeps.  Was  soothed  by  the  quiet  of  the 
place.  Saw  names  there  that  I  had  known  in  life.  Went  down  into 
the  catacombs  with  Willie,  and  saw  the  receptacle  for  me  and  mine, 
where  my  darling  lies  —  my  sweet  blossom,  she  lives  yet  in  my  heart ! 

13th.  —  On  this  day  my  blessed  Joan  would  have  been  four  years 
old.  My  heart  blesses  her,  and  yearns  towards  her,  and  feels  as  if  it 
was  to  renew  its  communion  with  the  sweet  child.  Oh,  that  I  could 
see  her  in  all  her  lovely  cheerfulness  !  But  my  birthday  greeting  to 
her  sweet  spirit  is,  "  Beloved,  hail  and  farewell !  Sweet  sorrow  of  my 
heart!  Dearest  child,  farewell!"  Gave  dear  Catherine  a  locket 
with  our  sweet  child's  hair. 


484  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1841. 


*.  —  Walked  with  Catherine  in  the  Regent's  Park.  Hetta  (II. 
Skerrett)  came  to  dinner.  We  went  to  the  Opera  House,  to  see  Rachel 
in  ••  Horace."  My  opinion  of  her  was  very  greatly  raised.  If  I  might 
apply  a  term  of  distinction  to  the  French  acting,  I  should  say  it  is 
sculpturesque  in  its  effect  ;  it  resembles  figures  in  relief,  no  back- 
ground, and  almost  all  in  single  figures,  scarcely  any  grouping,  no 
grand  composition  :  this  sort  of  individual  effect  may  be  good  for  the 
artist,  but  not  for  the  illusion  of  a  play.  With  the  drawback  conse- 
quent on  this  national  peculiarity,  Rachel  in  Camille  was  generally  ad- 
mirable. She  stood  alone,  her  back  turned  to  her  lover  or  brother,  as 
it  might  happen,  but  her  feeling  was  almost  always  true.  In  a  grand 
opportunity,  "  Courage  !  ils  s'amollissent  "  —  I  thought  her  deficient. 
But  in  the  last  scene  she  was  all  that  a  representation  of  the  part  could 
be.  It  was  a  splendid  picture  of  frenzied  despair. 

2Gth.  —  Serle  called,  and  discussed  some  business  with  me,  and  then 
accompanied  me  to  Drury  Lane  ;  the  committee  had  not  assembled. 
Looked  at  some  casts  at  Brucciani's  ;  went  in  search  of  a  book  to 
Bonn's.  Returned  to  Drury  Lane  Theater  ;  met  in  committee  Lord 
Glengall,  Allan,  Durrant,  Ramsbottom,  Dunn,  Burgess,  Beazley. 
Laid  before  them  the  state  of  the  theater  and  what  it  requires  :  the 
front  and  dresses,  the  scenery  and  wardrobe  for  four  plays  ;  state  of 
the  cellar  and  stage  ;  wardrobe  ;  attractions  of  pit  ;  separations  of  the 
circles  of  boxes,  and  awning,  etc.,  in  Vinegar  Yard.  All  was  to  be 
taken  'into  consideration,  our  plans  being  stated.  Went  down  to  Char- 
ing Cross,  and  just  caught  Catherine  and  Willie  (from  Eastbourne). 

"2Qth.  —  Serle  called  and  read  me  a  sketch  of  Faust,  proposing  that 
music  should  be  selected  from  the  works  of  Beethoven%for  it.  To  this 
I  decidedly  objected,  on  the  ground  that  a  work  to  be  good  should  be 
a  whole  —  should  have  a  pervading  sentiment,  relation,  throughout  its 
parts. 

August  4th.  —  Browning  called.  On  his  departure,  Catherine  and 
myself  went  out  and  met  T.  Cooke,  who  left  two  MSS.  of  operas,  and 
walked  with  us  to  look  at  the  Botanical  Gardens,  which  are  very  beau- 
tiful and  to  which  I  shall  subscribe.  I  spoke  with  Cooke  about  the 
proposal  of  Serle  as  to  the  opera  of  "  Faust  ;  "  developed  my  theory, 
as  to  a  musical  work,  that  the  design  must  be  one  and  complete,  a 
whole  made  up  of  harmonizing  parts,  one  character  and  purpose  visible 
throughout  ;  that  a  mosaic  or  rifacimento  of  composers'  various  works 
upon  a  subject  foreign  to  their  imagination  could  not  be  effective  or 
creditable.  He  heartily  concurred  in  all  I  said,  and  rejoiced  to  hear  it. 
We  went  to  Sarti's  and  saw  some  alto-reliefs  of  Flaxman,  which  I 
liked.  Went  on  to  Drury  Lane  and  inquired  for  Ellison.  Went  into 
the  theater  to  see  the  position  of  the  scenery,  etc.  Jones  received 
me,  and  we  had  some  conversation  on  business. 

8th.  —  Considered  for  more  than  an  hour  the  subject  of  Sir  Robert 
Walpole  as  one  for  Bulwer's  pen.  Resumed  my  search  in  "  History 
of  England"  for  matter  for  Buhver. 

llth.  —  In  bed,  not  feeling  quite  well,  I  resumed  the  reading  of 


1841.  PREPARATIONS  AT  DRURY  LANE.  485 

the  tragedy  of  "  St.  Thomas's  Eve,"  which  I  read  with  increasing  in- 
terest, until  at  last  I  became  quite  abandoned  to  a  transport  of  en- 
thusiasm. I  was  deeply  affected,  surprised,  delighted.  I  wondered  at 
the  moderate,  measured  terms  in  which  Serle  had  suggested  the  ne- 
cessity of  its  perusal.  It  seems  to  me  a  great  play,  equal  to  Shel- 
ley's "  Cenci"  in  poetry  and  depth  (no).  Wrote  a  note  to  Mr.  Knox, 
author  of  "  St.  Thomas's  Eve." 

September  7th.  —  Read  in  bed  several  scenes  of  "  Two  Gentlemen 
of  Verona,"  which  I  think  I  have  now  clearly  arranged  in  my  own 
mind. 

8th.  —  Glanced  at  the  paper  before  I  hurried  down  to  Drury  Lane 
Theater,  wheer  I  went,  reading  "  Luke "  by  the  way.  Found  Serle 
at  the  theater  ;  went  into  the  ladies'  wardrobe,  etc. ;  gave  directions  ; 
examined  all  the  parts  of  the  house  I  had  not  seen  before  ;  went  into 
every  dressing-room,  property-room,  passage,  and,  I  believe,  corner 
of  the  theater ;  obtained  most  important  information  respecting  it. 
Was  very  much  fatigued  with  my  tour. 

Beazley  came,  and  with  Serle  and  Brydone,  we  went  over  the 
saloon,  etc. ;  most  fortunately  I  had  penetrated  a  closed  stair  filled 
with  rubbish,  just  before,  and  mentioned  it  to  him.  We  finally  set- 
tled upon  a  plan  to  keep  the  two  circles  free  from  the  women  of  the 
town  ;  he  was  to  furnish  plans  and  estimates.  We  then  examined 
the  pit,  and  came  to  our  conclusions  there,  to  stall  it  and  enlarge  it. 
Returning  home  I  read  Luke.  Was  very  tired.  Found  letters  from 
Browning,  Henry  Smith ;  invitation,  Colonel  Hamilton  Smith,  Mrs. 
Braysher,  Catherine. 

Sth.  —  In  bed  read  the  fable  of  Acis  in  Ovid's  "  Metamorphoses." 
Looked  at  the  newspaper,  and  attended  to  business  actively.  Mr. 
Hoyle  called,  and  examined  the  roof  of  the  house,  and  also  took  direc- 
tions on  other  matters.  Wrote  answer  to  Dowton's  application  for 
orders. 

Wth.  —  Went  over  Shelley  in  bed,  searching  for  lines  for  "  Acis  and 
Galatea."  Went  to  Wigmore  Street  to  inquire  about  a  model  of 
Drury  Lane  Theater ;  found  it  had  been  sold,  and  was  the  old  theater. 

llth.  —  Rose  early,  and,  writing  a  note  to  Serle  and  making  a 
packet  of  Brydone's  official  letters,  I  went  down  to  Drury  Lane  The- 
ater, reading  Luke  by  the  way,  and  found  the  Hall  empty  —  not  a 
creature  in  charge.  I  called  and  looked,  and  at  length  left  my  card  on 
the  table,  with  a  note  of  the  time  of  the  clock  before  me.  I  went  into 
the  theater,  but  saw  no  one.  Spoke  sharply  to  the  doorkeeper  as  I 
went  out.  Walked  by  the  Strand  to  Bond  Street,  enjoying  my  walk  ; 
called  at  Smethurst  and  Pratts,  and  came  home.  Found  note  from 
Serle,  and  summons  from  Shakespeare  Society.  Hoyle  came  and  put 
up  the  bas-relief.  Read  the  papers.  Received  a  letter  from  Cather- 
ine, which  I  answered.  Gave  up  my  remaining  time  to  the  arrange- 
ment and  adaptation  of "  Acis  and  Galatea,"  for  which  I  had  still  to 
search.  The  man  came  to  color  the  bas-relief. 

12th.  —  Mr.  Knox  called  ;  had  a  long  conversation  with  him  on  .the 


486  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1841. 

subject  of  the  act  of  "  Tancred  and  Gismonda,"  which  he  had  left  with 
me  ;  satisfied  him  that  he  had  proceeded  on  a  false  view  of  the  effect. 
He  decided  on  abandoning  it,  and  taking  up  another  subject.  Very 
much  occupied  with  affairs  about  the  house.  Turned  over  books  in 
search  of  a  subject  for  Bulwer. 

25th.  —  Went  with  Searle  to  Drury  Lane  Theater.  Looked  at  the 
very  good  arrangement  of  the  property  room ;  at  the  model ;  the 
rooms  for  supers ;  passed  over  to  the  men's  wardrobe  ;  examined 
carefully  the  room,  and  saw  what  a  sweeping  measure  ought  to  be 
adopted  affecting  the  supernumeraries,  the  wardrobe,  armory,  etc. 
Transacted  some  valuable  business.  Returning  home  wrote  to  Helen 
Faucit,  who,  I  grieved  to  hear,  was  still  unwell ;  to  Bulwer.  Paid 
Thompson.  Thought  a  little  on  my  opening  address.  Acted  Werner 
well ;  was  called  for,  and  warmly  received. 

October  4th.  —  On  this  day  I  enter  upon  the  lease  and  management 
of  Drury  Lane  Theater.  I  humbly  implore  the  blessing  of  Almighty 
God  upon  my  efforts,  praying  His  gcacious  Spirit  may  influence  me  in 
adopting  and  carrying  through  all  wise  and  good  measures  in  a  dis- 
creet, equable,  and  honorable  course,  and  only  pursuing  such  a  line  of 
conduct  as  may  benefit  my  blessed  children,  may  be  of  service  to  the 
cause  of  good,  and  benevolent  to  those  dependent  on  me. 

7th.  —  Rose  very  early,  and  reached  Drury  Lane  by  a  quarter  past 
seven  o'clock  ;  found  the  men's  names  entered.  Went  round  the  work- 
places ;  retired  to  my  room,  and,  having  first  addressed  my  thoughts  to 
God,  began  to  read.  Employed  myself  with  thinking  over  Hamlet 
till  nine  o'clock.  Caught  Mr.  Hollo  way,  and  asked  him  about  views 
in  Verona  and  Venice.  Went  to  the  Athenaeum,  where  I  breakfasted, 
read  the  paper,  and  looked  at  some  books ;  delighted  to  find  a  Mont- 
faucon  there.  Called  at  Colnaghi's,  and  again  inquired  about  the  pict- 
ure of  a  Court  of  Justice  at  Venice.  Rehearsed  Hamlet. 

25th.  —  Looked  through  books  on  Venice  for  authority  respecting 
the  courts  of  justice. 

November  1st.  —  Went  to  the  rehearsal  of  "  Nina  Sforza"  at  Hay- 
market  Theater.  Letter  from  Colonel  Hamilton  Smith,  with  costumes 
and  directions  for  "  Merchant  of  Venice."  Acted  Spinola  well ;  took 
great  pains,  and  carried  the  audience  with  me.  Was  called  for,  and 
very  warmly  received.  Forster,.  Talfourd,  Browning,  Kenney,  came 
into  my  room. 

7th.  —  Gave  my  whole  day  to  the  preparation  of  "  Romeo  and 
Juliet,"  of  which  I  finished  three  acts.  It  is  a  work  of  more  labor  than 
I  had  calculated  upon.  Mr.  and  Miss  Emily  Spicer,  Dr.  Quin,  Knox, 
Maclise,  Stanfield,  Z.  Troughton,  came  to  dine,  with  whom  we  had  a 
very  pleasant  day.  Was  held  a  long  time  in  conversation  with  Stan- 
field and  Maclise  on  the  subject  of  the  illustration  of  "  Acis  and  Gala- 
tea." 

23d.  —  Settled  with  Marshall  and  Tomkins  the  scenery  of  "  The 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona." 

25lh.  —  Rose  earlier  than  usual  in  order  to  visit  the  sad  place  that 


1841.  RE-OPENING  OF  DRURY  LANE.  487 

contains  the  moldering  body  of  my  sweet  infant,  my  beautiful  and 
blessed  Joan.  My  thoughts  were  upon  her,  which  I  did  not  wish  to 
communicate  or  betray,  as  I  was  unwilling  to  shed  any  gloom  about 
me.  But  she  was  present  to  me  —  in  her  laughing  joy  and  beauty,  in 
the  angelic  sweetness  that  she  wore  when  lying  dead  before  me.  O 
God,  Thy  will  be  done.  She  seems  dearer  to  me  even  than  these  so 
dear  around  me.  That  wound  of  my  heart  will  never  be  healed.  But 
I  shall  meet  her  again,  or  I  shall  be  of  the  element  with  her.  What 
shall  I  be  ?  And  for  what  are  we  taught  these  sad  and  bitter  lessons  ? 
I  went  to  the  cemetery,  and  saw  the  cold  and  narrow  bed  where  she 
lies  ;  my  heart  poured  out  its  prayer  by  her  body  for  the  welfare  and 
happiness  of  those  spared  to  me.  I  had  to  wait  the  performance  of  a 
funeral  service  before  I  could  go  down  into  the  vault.  It  brought  all 
back  to  me  ;  but  what  words  are  those  to  offer  to  the  heart  of  grief,  or 
to  the  reasoning  mind  ?  God,  the  true  God,  is  all.  His  love  to  us, 
and  circulated  amongst  us,  is  our  only  consolation.  Bless  thee,  my 
beloved  babe  ;  often,  often,  when,  it  could  be  little  thought,  your  image 
is  with  me. 

2Qth.  —  Acted  Sir  Oswin  Mortland  as  well  as  I  could  under  the 
heavy  press  of  business.  Read  the  two  concluding  numbers  of  "  Hum- 
phrey's Clock,"  which  ends  very  sadly  and  very  sweetly.  Wonderful 
Dickens. 

December  1th.  —  "  Lady  of  Lyons."  As  the  last  day  of  my  Hay- 
market  engagement,  I  begin  it  with  some  feeling  of  uncertainty  as  to 
the  future.  If  success  in  worldly  means  is  to  be  denied  me,  I  bow  to 
God's  will  with  true  humility  and  fortitude,  and  let  justice,  honor,  and 
love  be  the  impulses  of  all  my  actions.  Miss  Fortescue  came  and  con- 
tinued her  lessons.  I  am  greatly  interested  in  her  success. 

10^.  —  Reconsidered  the  question  of  acting  the  unimportant  parts 
of  Harmony  and  Valentine,  and  came  to  the  decision  that  everything 
should  be  done  to  raise  and  sustain  the  character  of  the  theater  ;  that 
my  reputation  could  scarcely  be  affected  in  any  way  by  the  assumption 
of  these  parts,  or,  at  least,  not  injuriously ;  and  that  it  would  be  a  sad 
calculation  to  think  of  propping  my  reputation  by  the  ruins  of  the 
theater.  I  saw  that  it  was  right  to  do  them.  Read  Valentine.  Read 
Harmony. 

18th.  —  Dined  with  Horace  Twiss  to  meet  the  Delanes.  Sir  G. 
Clerk,  Emerson  Tennent,  Fitzgerald,  Hayward,  Mr.  Atkinson,  were 
there. 

27th.  —  Rehearsed  the  "  Merchant  of  Venice."  Went  round  the 
various  places.  Gave  direction  on  direction.  My  mind  was  over 
every  part  of  the  house.  My  room  very  uncomfortable.  Lay  down, 
but  got  little  rest.  Was  much  disturbed  by  being  called  for  as  the 
play  began  ;  resisted  for  a  long  while,  but  was  at  last  obliged  to  go 
forward.  My  reception  was  most  enthusiastic.  I  acted  Shylock  very 
nervously  —  not  to  please  myself.  I  saw  the  pantomime  afterwards.1 

1  Drury  Lane  Theater  opened  under  Macready's  management  with  the  Merchant 
of  Venice,  and  the  pantomime  of  Harlequin  and  Duke  Humphry's  Dinner ;  or,  Jack 


488  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1842. 

28//<. — Rehearsed  "  Every  One  has  his  Fault."  l  Incessant  business 
until  nearly  half-past  four  o'clock.  I  was  fearful  I  should  not  have  ;i 
command  of  the  words  of  my  part.  Note  from  Sir  II.  Wheatley, 
wishing  to  see  me  about  the  Queen's  Box.  Notes.  Read  over  Har- 
mony. Acted  it  tolerably  well.  Was  not  known  by  the  audience  at 
first.  Called  for  and  well  received.  The  play  seemed  to  have  made 
an  agreeable  impression,  about  which  I  was  very  anxious,  as  being  a 
comedy.  Mrs.  Carlyle  was  in  Catherine's  box,  and  very  glad  to  see 
me. 

29/A.  —  Rehearsed  the  play  of  "  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona," 
which  occupied  us  a  very  long  while  ;  it  was  not  finished  until  five 
o'clock.  Acted  Valentine  imperfectly,  and  not  well.  Was  called  for 
on  account  of  the  play,  and  warmly  received. 


1842. 

London,  January  1st.  —  Dear  Dickens  called  to  shake  hands  with 
me.2  my  heart  was  quite  full ;  it  is  much  to  me  to  lose  the  presence 
of  a  friend  who  really  loves  me.  He  said  there  was  no  one  whom  he 
felt  such  pain  in  saying  good-by  to.  God  bless  him. 

4th.  —  Listened  to  the  music  of  "  Acis  and  Galatea  "  on  the  stage, 
which  is  much  too  long  for  dramatic  purposes  ;  all  agreed  in  the  pro- 
priety of  very  much  reducing  it.  There  was  much  debate,  but  it  soon 
spoke  for  itself. 

5th.  —  Received  a  letter  from  the  editor  of  "  John  Bull,"  wishing  to 
know  from  me  if  "  the  women  of  the  town  "  were  really  admitted  or 
altogether  excluded,  as  he  supposed  them  to  be,  his  "  duty  to  the  pub- 
lic" requiring  his  notice,  etc.  It  is  not  easy  to  suppress  one's  indigna- 
tion at  such  monstrous  malignity,  but  my  course  is  to  do  right,  and  not 
to  give  heed  to  these  wicked  attempts  to  slander  me.  Serle  proposed, 
after  some  debate  upon  the  letter  that  he  should  reply  to  it,  telling  the 
editor  that,  as  he  had  two  nightly  admissions  on  the  theater,  he  had 
the  power  to  come  and  observe  himself,  which  was  the  more  necessary 
as  a  prosecution  for  a  groundless  libel  had  already  been  commenced 
against  a  paper  on  the  same  subject. 

Read  part  of  Harmony.  Acted  it  pretty  well.  Called  for  and  well 
received.  Consulted  my  officers  on  the  expediency  of  doing  the  play 
of  "  The  Gamester  ; "  all  were  of  opinion  for  it. 

6th.  —  I  arranged  the  whole  business  of  the  opera  of  "  Acis  and 
Galatea."  It  occupied  the  whole  morning. 

Cade,  the  Lord  of  London  Stone.  The  cast  of  the  play  included  Mr.  G.  Bennett, 
Mr.  Phelps,  Mr.  Anderson,  Mr.  Hudson,  Mr.  II.  Hill,  Mr.  Marston,  Mr.  Sulby, 
Mr.  Cotnpton  ;  with  Mrs.  Warner  and  Mrs.  Keeley,  Miss  Poole  and  Miss  Gould. 
The  prices  were  the  same  as  at  Covent  Garden,  when  under  Macready's  manage- 
ment. The  play-bill  contained  the  announcement  that  the  room  for  promenading 
and  refreshment  attached  to  the  boxes,  would  be  strictly  protected  from  all  im- 
proper intrusion.  —  ED. 

i  By  Mrs.  Inchbald.  —  ED. 

3  On  going  to  America.  —  ED. 


1842.  "ACIS  AND   GALATEA."  489 

1th.  —  Listened  to  the  rehearsal  of  "  Acis  and  Galatea,"  with  which 
I  was  really  pleased.  I  liked  the  music,  and  think  it  must  be  a  beau- 
tiful musical  entertainment. 

12th.  —  Rehearsed  Beverley,  regretting  very  much,  and  blaming 
myself  very  much,  that  I  had  undertaken  this  part  without  the  oppor- 
tunity of  knowing  my  power  of  performing  it.  I  will  do  this  no 
more. 

Read  a  little  of  Beverley  and  rested.  Was  very  nervous,  very  un- 
happy about  the  part,  and  scarcely  knew  how  I  was  to  go  through  it. 
Determined  to  infuse  as  much  spirit  and  earnestness  into  it  as  I  could. 
Got  through  much  better  than  I  had  anticipated ;  was  called  for  and 
well  received ;  and  had  much  reason  from  appearances  to  congratulate 
myself  for  having  done  the  play. 

18th.  —  Called  at  Bielefield's  to  see  the  model  of  Polypheme's 
head. 

19^.  —  Rehearsed  scenes  of  "  Acis  and  Galatea  ;  "  had  difficulty 
with  the  ballet,  but  mastered  them.  It  is  laborious. 

Sent  to  the  different  print-sellers  for  print  of  Polypheme.  Rested, 
being  very  tired ;  rose  to  write  the  bill  and  to  read  my  part.  Acted 
Beverley  fairly.  Called  for  and  well  received. 

Ordered  that,  after  this  evening,  the  money  of  women  of  the  town 
should  be  refused  altogether  at  the  doors. 

22d.  —  Rose  very  early  on  purpose  to  see  how  matters  were  carried 
on  at  Drury  Lane  Theater.  Reached  the  theater  at  ten  minutes  past 
seven  ;  found  a  few  persons  only  at  work ;  waited  in  the  hall  until  my 
fire  was  lighted,  and  then  went  to  business.  Wrote  answer  to  Phil- 
lips, the  pit  hat-and-cloak  man,  to  Patmore  with  a  free  admission. 
Spoke  to  Mr.  Anderson  about  the  system  I  wished  to  see  pursued,  to 
Blamire,  to  whom  I  opened  the  door  to  his  acceptance  of  the  con- 
tinued office  of  property  man.  He  did  not  grasp  at  it,  and  I  did  not 
press  it  on  him.  Spoke  to  Sloman  and  the  two  fly-men,  guilty  of  in- 
accuracy last  night,  went  up  into  the  flies  to  examine  the  working  of 
the  borders,  etc.  Looked  over  the  wings  for  the  play  of  "  Gisippus," 
Rehearsed  with  much  care  the  farce  of  "  The  Windmill."  Afterwards 
rehearsed  till  a  late  hour  the  opera  of  "Acis  and  Galatea,"  with  which 
I  took  great  pains.  Received  a  note  from  Mr.  Oakley,  one  of  the 
general  committee,  acknowledging  the  civility  of  a  card  of  admission, 
and  speaking  highly  of  the  conduct  of  the  theater.  Other  notes. 
Business  with  Stanfield,  with  Mr.  Phillips  about  his  head  for  Poly- 
pheme. Business  with  Serle,  with  Miss  P.  Horton  about  her  dress, 
with  C.  Jones  on  his  payment.  The  "  Record"  newspaper,  and  a  note 
from  Mr.  Butler,  inquiring  into  the  truth  of  the  article  in  it  copied 
from  "John  Bull,"  other  letters,  one  of  acknowledgment  from  Pat- 
more.  Miss  P.  Horton  dined  with  us,  and  afterwards  sang  and  acted 
over  her  songs  to  me,  on  which  I  advised  her. 

2  <lth.  —  Acted  Shylock  well.  Thought  before  the  play  began  that 
I  would,  during  the  vacation,  contract  for  the  scenery  and  machinery 
of  any  new  play  I  might  intend  to  produce.  Business  with  Miss  Smith 


490  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1842. 

and  figurantes  as  to  the  clothes  of  Acis,  etc.,  with  Miss  Gould,  Mr>. 
Keeley.  Forster  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carlyle  carne  into  my  room,  much 
pleased  with  the  play  —  I  was  pleased  that  they  were. 

25th,  —  Letters  from  Mr.  Martin,  junior,  with  a  volume  of  costumes, 
from  Phillips,  coat-keeper,  and  a  very  earnest  beautiful  letter  from  an 
anonymous  friend  about  the  attack  in  "  John  Bull ; " 1  upon  which  I  made 

"January  25th,  1842. 

1  "  SIR,  —  The  John  Bull  of  January  15th  contained  a  charge  against  you  of  a 
very  grave  nature.  Thinking  it  possible  that  this  may  not  have  met  your  eye, 
I  transcribe  the  paragraph  in  which  it  appeared  :  — 

"  '  In  our  notices  to  correspondents  last,  week,  we  observed  that  we  should  direct 
our  attention  to  certain  private  arrangements  alleged  to  have  been  made  at  Drury 
Lane  Theater,  and  stated  that,  if  our  information  proved  correct,  we  should  act  as 
our  duty  prescribed.  We  alluded  to  reports  we  had  received,  that  a  staircase  had 
been  provided  for  the  accommodation  of  those  unfortunate  women  whom  we  had 
supposed  to  be  excluded  from  this  theater,  that  a  refreshment  room  had  been  set 
apart  for  their  use,  and  for  that  of  such  of  the  public  as  might  choose  to  resort  to 
it,  and  that  they  were  admitted  into  the  house  along  with  the  respectable  portion 
of  the  audience  from  the  second  circle  upwards.  These  reports  we  regret  to  say 
we  have  found  correct.' 

"  To  dwell  upon  the  infamy  that  is  inferred  by  such  an  accusation,  an  accusa- 
tion which  charges  you  with  having  forwarded  the  admission  of  those  unhappy 
creatures  to  your  theater,  whose  solicited  presence  in  the  play-houses  of  London 
you  once  justly  pronounced  a  '  national  disgrace,'  in  addressing  one  of  your  high 
character  and  delicate  sense  of  honor,  would  be  useless  ;  it  would  be  useless  to 
point  out  the  obloquy  that  must  attach  to  the  man,  who,  while  he  is  gaining 
general  esteem  by  his  declamations  against  vice,  is  secretly  lending  his  support  to 
such  as  follow  its  courses. 

"  This  would  be  useless,  but  it  may  not  be  useless  to  point  out  the  necessity 
there  is  that  such  a  charge  should  be  answered,  that  from  such  an  imputation  you 
should  hasten  to  free  yourself.  It  may  be,  that  high  and  conscious  virtue  conceives 
dishonor  to  rest  in  the  supposition  of  a  necessity  for  asserting  its  innocence  ;  it 
may  be  that  you  think  the  pure  integrity  of  your  character  a  shield  sufficient  in  its 
strength  to  rebuff  such  attacks  and  to  render  them  harmless.  Such  an  opinion, 
however  exalted  the  feeling  from  which  it  may  have  sprung,  must  be  pronounced 
an  erroneous  one;  an  unhappily  erroneous  one.  When  malignity  pours  itself 
forth  only  in  gross  abuse,  silence  is  indeed  the  best  revenge,  for  it  indicates  con- 
tempt ;  but  when  calumny  asserts  injurious  facts,  contradiction  is  due  to  the  repu- 
tation they  wound,  and  silence  can  only  be  esteemed  a  proof  of  weakness. 

"  Here  is  a  fact  asserted  which  the  dignity  of  your  character  calls  upon  you  to 
refute  —  which  you  must  refute  !  It  is  clue  to  all  who  admire,  to  all  who  esteem 
you  (and  the  admiration  of  your  genius  has  ever  been  coupled  with  the  esteem  of 
vour  worth) ;  it  is  due  to  yourself  to  refute  it.  If  I  speak  freely,  Sir,  it  is  because 
1  feel  deeply.  It  may  be  that  I  am  the  only  one  who  has  ventured  to  appeal  for  a 
reply  to  this  accusation,  but  I  am  not  the  only  one  who  has  felt  the  injury  you 
would  sustain  by  leaving  it  without  one.  The  higher  the  character  aimed  at  the 
more  dangerous  the  attack,  for  if  genius  and  worth  have  many  admirers,  many 
friends,  they  have  also  many  enviers,  many  detractors.  Your  silence  under  the 
accusation  brought  against  you  would  lend  weapons  to  such  detractors,  which  your 
friends  would  have  no  means  of  parrying ;  armed  with  no  proof,  how  could  they 
defend  themselves  against  the  accusers  1  Their  own  faith  might  be  strong,  but 
how  little  significant  would  be  a  reply  that  rested  in  their  mere  conviction.  Ear- 
nestly, most  earnestly,  I  appeal  to  you  for  a  more  triumphant  answer.  I  would 
urge  that,  though  I  speak  as  one,  I  utter  the  sentiments  of  many,  that  I  have  seen 
the  emotions  of  chagrin  and  indignation  with  which  I  read  the  accusing  paragraph 
agitating  others  as  they  agitated  me,  that  I  have  seen  others  equally  anxious  to 
find  it  answered,  and  equally  disappointed  when  no  answer  appeared.  It  was  with 
the  hope  that  the  John  Bull  of  January  22d  would  contain  a  refutation  of  the 


1842.  LETTER  IN  "  THE  TIMES."  491 

out  another  copy  of  my  letter  to  the  proprietors  of  that  paper  and  in- 
closed it  with  a  note  to  Mr.  Butler,  the  gentleman  who  wrote  to  me  on 
Sunday  last. 

2Qth.  —  A  letter  from  Carlyle  informing  me  that  Gay  was  the  author 
of  the  words  of  "  Acis  and  Galatea." 

30th.  —  Looked  at  the  "  John  Bull "  newspaper,  and  saw  that  the  editor 
had  suppressed  my  letter,  and  published  his  own  observations  on  such 
parts  of  it  as  he  chose  to  allude  to.  Forster  called.  We  discussed  the 
subject,  and  I  cordially  assented  to  his  advice  to  write  to  the  editor  of 
the  "  Times,"  and  request  him  to  insert  the  letter  to  "  John  Bull."  I 
asked  him  to  write  it  for  me,  as  I  was  occupied  with  a  letter  to  Dickens. 
Sir  W.  Martins  called  to  say  the  King  of  Prussia  would  visit  Drury 
Lane  Theater  to-morrow  night,  and  wished  to  hear  the  play  of  "  Mac- 
beth." I  explained  to  him  the  impossibility  of  that  or  any  other  play 
but  those  now  acting.  He  recommended  Serle's  journey  to  Windsor 
to  settle  the  matter.  Copied  out  the  letter  which  Forster  had  written 
for  me,  copied  out  also  the  letter  to  the  proprietors  of"  John  Bull,"  and, 
with  a  letter  to  Delane,  closed  the  affair.  Serle  returned  with  the  in- 
formation that  the  King  of  Prussia  had  selected  "  The  Two  Gentlemen 
of  Verona."  He  wanted  "Hamlet"  or  "Macbeth." 

3lst.  —  I  see  with  great  satisfaction  my  letter  in  "The  Times" 
newspaper.1  Felt  most  grateful  for  this  vindication,  which  sets  me  at 

accusation  contained  in  that  of  January  15th,  that  I  so  long  delayed  writing  to 
call  your  attention  to  it.  I  trust  that  the  John  Bull  of  next  Sunday  will  show 
your  admirers  and  friends  the  vindication  they  must  all  wish  to  see,  that  either 
you  will  be  able  to  deny  the  fact  asserted,  or  else  to  explain  it  in  such  a  way  as 
will  leave  the  integrity  of  your  character  untouched. 

"  Wishing  you  such  success  in  all  your  undertakings  as  genius  can  obtain  and 
honor  deserve, 

"  I  remain,  Sir, 
"  One  of  the  most  earnest,  though,  it  may  be,  the  least  worthy,  of 

"  YOUR  MANY  ADMIRERS." 

The  writer  of  this  letter  was,  at  the  time,  unknown  to  Macready,  and  altogether 
outside  theatrical  circles.  Shortly  before  the  great  actor's  retirement  from  the 
stage,  the  wish  of  many  years  was  fulfilled,  his  personal  acquaintance  was  made  by 
the  anonymous  admirer,  and  a  very  intimate  friendship  commenced  which  con- 
tinued without  interruption  to  his  death.  —  ED. 

1  The  letter  sent  to  John  Bull  and  afterwards  printed  in  the  Times  was  as 
follows :  — 

"To  THE  PROPRIETORS  OF  THE  'JOHN  BULL'  NEWSPAPER. 

"GENTLEMEN,  —  I  desire  your  immediate  attention  to  the  following  circum- 
stances, in  connection  with  an  article  on  Drury  Lane  Theater  which  appeared  in 
your  paper  of  the  15th  instant. 

"  When  I  entered  upon  the  management  of  Covent  Garden,  three  years  ago,  my 
first  determination  was  to  rescue  the  theater,  as  far  as  at  that  time  lay  within  my 
power,  from  the  degradation  of  being  accessory  to  purposes  of  public  prostitution. 
This  object  I  never  lost  sight  of.  I  found  my  means  of  attaining  it  more  limited 
than  the  publiCfSympathy  and  support  have  rendered  them  since;  but  the  result, 
though  not  entirely  satisfactory  to  myself,  was  such  as  to  prove  an  earnestness  and 
sincerity  of  intention. 

"  In  "that  spirit  it  was  received,  and  everywhere  heartily  encouraged.  It  was 
frequently  the  subject  of  praise  in  your  paper,  and,  as  late  as  the  2d  of  last 


492  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1842. 

ease  in  regard  to  these  false  and  malicious  attacks  upon  me.     Thank 
God. 

February  1st.  —  A  noble  article,  the  third  leader,  in  "The  Times" 
on  the  attack  of  the  "  John  Bull." 1 

October,  was  made  matter  of  special  contrast  with  the  condition  to  which  Covcnt 
Garden  had  returned. 

When  I  entered  upon  the  management  here,  I  felt  it  due  to  the  assistance  I  had 
received,  to  make  a  greater  and  more  effectual  exertion.  Having  redeemed  most 
fully  every  pledge  given  in  my  public  address,  I  became  anxious  to  ascertain 
whether  all  I  hoped  to  do,  and  to  which  these  measures  eventually  tended,  might 
not  be  accomplished  at  once.  But  having  been  given  to  understand  that,  upon 
the  issue  of  a  play-bill,  I  had  not  a  legal  right  to  refuse  the  money  of  any  person 
at  the  door  of  the  theater,  I  could  only  resolve  to  do  my  best,  by  measures  of  ex- 
treme discouragement,  to  altogether  deter  the  unhappy  class  of  persons  in  question 
from  entering  the  house.  I  excluded  them  from  the  two  first  circles,  the  rooms, 
halls,  passages,  and  lobbies  attached  to  those  circles.  I  confined  such  as  might 
still  for  a  time  persevere  in  coming  to  the  third  circle,  which  they  could  only  reach 
by  a  separate  pay-office,  and  by  passing  through  a  dismantled  lobby,  where  the 
walls  were  purposely  left  unpainted  and  unpapercd,  in  which  no  seat  of  any  kind 
was  placed,  and  which  was  constantly  patrolled  by  a  policeman.  In  this  lobby  is 
a  bar  for  refreshment,  held  under  lease,  dated  some  years  since,  not  from  me  but 
from  the  proprietors,  which  I  cannot  revoke ;  but  I  have  already  received  notice 
that  this  lease  is  infringed  by  the  state  of  the  place,  a  state,  indeed,  so  bare  and 
miserable,  that,  were  it  not  for  the  object  in  view,  I  should  myself  admit  it  to  be 
discreditable.  That  object  having  been  answered,  it  cannot  be  called  so.  On  the 
average  of  nights  since  the  theater  was  opened,  only  from  two  to  three  persons  of 
presumed  disreputable  character  have  been  by  a  vigilant  police  noted  within  the 
house,  on  some  occasions  not  one. 

"  In  the  John  Bull  of  the  15th  instant  these  arrangements  are  made  matter  of 
severe  reprehension,  as  insulting  to  morality  and  decency,  and  the  result  of  my 
exertions,  so  far  exceeding  anything  I  had  ever  dared  to  attempt  three  years  ago,  is 
said  to  place  me  on  no  higher  level  than  the  most  degraded  practices  of  other 
theaters,  Covent  Garden  being  especially  named.  It  is  not  my  business  to  point 
out  the  inconsistency  of  this,  but  it  is  my  serious  duty  to  demand  of  you  repara- 
tion for  its  injustice.  It  is  not,  I  hope,  too  much  to  presume  that,  with  these  facts 
before  you  and  with  means  of  verifying  them,  which  to  their  utmost  extent,  I 
offer  you,  it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  you  to  grant  this  reparation  through  the  same 
channel  by  which  so  grave  an  injury  has  been  inflicted. 

"  Meanwhile,  I  have  to  add,  strengthened  by  the  results  of  the  measures  I  have 
described  in  this  letter  and  warned  by  so  strange,  so  unjust,  and  yet  cautious  an 
attack  in  a  quarter  so  respectable ;  that  nothing  but  the  extreme  trial  of  the  point 
of  law  will  protect  me  from  calumnies,  direct  or  insidious.  I  have  given  instruc- 
tions, since  Wednesday,  the  19th  instant,  that  the  money  of  all  persons  of  sup- 
posed improper  character  shall  be  refused  at  the  doors.  Since  that  day,  the  few 
who  have  presented  themselves  have  been  turned  away,  and  the  same  course  shall 
continue  to  be  adopted  as  long  as  I  hold  the  lease  of  t)rury  Lane  Theater. 

'•  Again  desiring  your  instant  attention  to  this  letter, 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Gentlemen, 

"  Your  faithful  Servant, 

"  W.  C.  MACKEADT."  —  ED. 

1  The  article  concluded  thus  :  "  It  is  not  our  custom  to  interfere  in  matters  of  a 
commercial  nature  where  there  are  competitors  for  public  favor  and  private  inter- 
ests involved  ;  but  we  cannot  pass  over  the  opportunity  afforded  us  by  the  letter  of 
Mr.  Macready,  which  appeared  in  the  Times  of  yesterday,  without  expressing  the 
opinion  which  we  (in  common,  we  believe,  with  the  public  generally)  entertain  of 
the  exertions  of  that  gentleman,  for  the  restoration  of  the  genuine  English  drama, 
and  for  the  purification  of  our  national  theaters  from  every  just  cause  of  offense  to 
a  virtuous  or  religious  mind  We  cannot  but  express  our  indignation  at  the  at- 


1842.  PRODUCTION  OF  " ACIS  AND   GALATEA."  493 

2d.  —  Business  with  Mr.  Faraday  (brother  of  the  great  philosopher) 
about  the  concentric  burner,  which  he  brought.  Allason  brought  dra- 
peries. Superintended  the  rehearsal  of  the  choruses  of  "  Acis  and 
Galatea."  Business  with  various  people.  Acted  Beverley  tolerably 
well.  Called  for  and  well  received. 

5th.  —  Gave  my  whole  attention  during  the  day  to  the  various  mat- 
ters connected  with  the  opera.  Directed  the  rehearsal  of  "  Acis  and 
Galatea."1 

The  curtain  was  let  down,  and  the  stage  swept  five  minutes  before 
the  half-hour  past  six.  Stanfield  and  the  assistants  painting  to  the 
last  minute.  Saw  the  performance  of  the  opera,  which  was  beautiful ; 
have  never  seen  anything  of  the  kind  in  my  life  so  perfectly  beautiful. 
Gave  my  whole  attention  to  it.  At  the  conclusion  was  called  for  and 
most  enthusiastically  received;  I  gave  it  out  for  repetition.  Mrs. 
Jameson  was  in  Catherine's  box.  Gratulations  were  passing  every- 
where. I  feel  very  grateful  for  this  success.  Too  much  excited  to 
think  of  sleeping. 

Qt/i,  —  The  excitement  of  last  night  was  not  over  this  morning  ;  the 
forms,  colors  and  movements  of  the  pictures  of  last  night  were  passing 
still  before  my  eyes.  I  have  not  recovered  from  them.  Several 
papers  were  sent  to  me,  some  containing  accounts  of  the  last  night's 
performance.  Rejoiced  in  my  absence  from  Mr.  Ducrow's  funeral. 
When  will  my  funeral  come  ?  Let  it  be  as  simple  as  the  return  of 
d"ust  to  dust  should  be,  and  somewhere  where  those  that  love  me  may 
come  to  think  of  me. 

1th.  —  Went  to  Drury  Lane  Theater.  Directed  the  rehearsal  of 
the  "  Prisoner  of  War,"  2  and  bestowed  much  pains  on  it.  Read  sev- 
eral letters,  attended  to  business  of  wardrobes,  etc.  Note  from  Delane 
for  a  private  box,  which  I  sent  to  him.  "  The  Times  "  was  more  en- 
comiastic than  the  other  papers,  but  the  tone  of  all  was  in  "  sweet  ac- 
cord," and  the  opinions  that  reached  me  unanimously  enthusiastic. 

tacks  made  upon  him  for  this  good  work,  not  merely  by  ribald  publications,  whose 
censure  is  praise,  and  the  writers  of  which  are  naturally  led  to  resent  every  dis- 
couragement given  to  immorality  as  a  blow  at  themselves,  but  in  quarters  from 
which  more  generous  conduct  might  have  been  expected.  The  man  who  has  done 
more  than  any  other  individual  to  make  Shakespeare  popular  deserves  the  thanks 
of  every  one  who  wishes  to  educate  the  people  and  raise  the  national  character.  The 
man  who  has  driven  Jack  Sheppards  and  Jim  Crows  and  exhibitions  fit  only  for  Ro- 
man amphitheaters  from  the  stage,  has  a  right  to  the  good  word  of  all  who  would 
not  see  the  popular  mind  brutalized  and  demoralized.  The  man  who  has  enabled 
us  to  tell  Puritans  that  there  is  a  theater  in  which  every  effort  is  made  to  exclude 
vice,  and  in  which  no  modest  person  is  likely  to  meet  with  contamination  or  insult, 
is  entitled  to  the  cooperation  of  every  lover  of  the  fine  arts,  and  (what  is  more)  of 
all  who  delight  in  rational  and  innocent  enjoyment."  —  ED. 

1  The  play-bill  announced  the  opera  (not  divided  into  acts)  of  Acis  and  Ga'atea, 
adapted  and  arranged  for  representation  from  the  serenata  of  Handel.   The  orches- 
tral arrangements  by  Mr.  T.  Cooke.     The  scenic  illustrations  by  Mr.  Stanfield, 
R.  A.     The  principal  parts  were  :  Cupid,  Miss  Gould ;  Acis,  Miss  P.  Horton  ; 
Damon,  Mr.  Allen  ;  Polyphemus,  Mr.  H.  Phillips  ;  Galatea,  Miss  Romer.     The 
dances  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Noble.  —  ED. 

2  By  Douglas  Jerrold.  —  ED. 


494  M. \CREADTS  DIARIES.  1842. 

Stanfiekl  came  in  and  would  not  tell  me  his  charge,  until  he  saw  what 
the  piece  did  for  me. 

8th.  —  Went  to  Drury  Lane  Theater  and  saw  again  "Acis  and 
Galatea."  It  is  beautiful.  Was  called  for  after  Mesdames  Horton 
and  Romer  had  been  on,  and  very  warmly  received.  Went  into  Cath- 
erine's box  to  see  the  "  Prisoner  of  War,"  when  I  was  sent  for  to  Bul- 
wer,  who  went  with  me  into  our  private  box  to  see  the  piece,  which 
he  liked  very  much. 

10th.  —  Rehearsed  "  Gisippus."  Listen  called  to  ask  for  a  family 
box. 

15^.  —  Went  to  Drury  Lane  Theater,  where  I  attended  to  business, 
and  directed  a  rehearsal  of  "  Gisippus  "  that,  with  four  acts,  occupied 
me  the  whole  day. 

2lst.  —  Received  a  note  from  Babbage  about  a  rainbow  dance.  I 
am  in  the  dark  about  it.1 

23d.  —  Acted  Gisippus,  I  must  admit,  not  well,  not  finished ;  not 
like  a  great  actor.  The  actor  was  lost  in  the  manager.  The  effect  of 
the  play  was  success ;  but  I  am  not  satisfied.  I  hope  I  shall  be  able, 
if  I  escape  severe  handling  in  this  instance,  to  be  more  careful  in 
future.  Was  called  for,  and  very  warmly  received. 

2±th.  —  Walked  out  with  Catherine  in  the  park,  and  in  the  Botan- 
ical Gardens,  enjoying,  oh,  how  I  enjoyed  the  fresh  air !  I  seemed 
to  drink  in  spirits,  and  temporary  reinvigoration  with  every  breath  I 
drew.  I  have  not  known  such  a  luxurious  sensation  for  many  a  day. 

March  2d.  —  Superintended  the  rehearsal  of  "  The  Poor  Soldier," 
with  which  I  was  very  much  pleased.  Notes  from  Mr.  Bates  of  the 
Diorama,  from  Dr.  Griffin,  Limerick,  on  the  success  of  "  Gisippus." 
Held  a  conference  with  Serle,  Willmott,  T.  Cooke,  etc.,  on  the  pro- 
priety of  dismissing  the  idea  of  "  Cymon,"  and  concentrating  our  efforts 
on  "  King  Arthur."  Rested,  being  much  wearied,  and  tried  to  think 
of  my  character.  Acted  Gisippus,  I  thought,  better  than  I  have  yet 
done.  I  hope  to  improve  the  part  very  much.  Was  called  for,  and 
well  received.  Went  into  a  private  box  to  see  "  The  Poor  Soldier," 
which  was  very  well  done  in  all  respects,  and  with  which  I  was  much 
pleased.  Went  into  Catherine's  box,  and  saw  Mrs.  MacNeil  (Mary 
Brownlow,  the  belle  of  Bath  in  1814),  her  daughter,  Colonel  Mac- 
Neil,  Fanny  llaworth,  and  Boxall. 

Wth.  —  Looked  over  old  flats,  etc.,  and  settled  scenes  for  "  Mac- 
beth." 

1  Mr.  Babhage,  in  his  Passages  from  the  Life  of  a  Philosopher,  London,  1864, 
relates  how  he  devised  a  rainbow  dance  for  the  ballet  of  the  Italian  Opera  House, 
then  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Lumley.  Various  colored  lights  .were  to  be 
thrown  on  groups  of  danseuses,  dressed  in  pure  white.  The  oxy-hydrogen  light 
passing  through  different  media  was  to  have  been  employed  to  produce  the  most 
brilliant  effects.  Mr.  Babbage  arranged  a  ballet  called  Altthes  and  Iris,  to  intro- 
duce the  rainbow  dance,  and  a  rehearsal  took  place  on  the  stage  of  the  Opera 
House ;  but  the  danger  of  fire  in  the  theater  was  alleged  by  Mr.  Lumley  as  a 
reason  for  going  no  farther  with  the  philosopher's  contribution  to  the  splendors  of 
the  ballet.  —  E0. 


1842.  THE  QUEEN'S  VISITS.  495 

llth.  —  Attended  to  the  rehearsal  of  "  The  Students  of  Bonn," 
which  I  think  I  put  into  a  better  shape.  Received  a  note  from 
Colonel  Buckley,  informing  me  the  Queen,  etc.,  Vere  coming  this 
evening ;  gave  necessary  orders.  Mr.  Godwin,  secretary  to  Art 
Union,  called,  and  spoke  with  me  on  the  matter  of  the  public  meeting. 
Acted  Gisippus  better  than  I  have  yet  done*  Called  for  and  well 
received.  The  Queen  and  Prince  Albert  occupied  their  box. 

12th.  —  A  letter  from  Sir  W.  Martins,  expressing  the  Queen's  wish 
for  "  Acis  and  Galatea "  to  be  acted  after  "  Gisippus  "  on  Friday. 
Lord  De  la  Warr  sending  word  she  was  "  delighted  with  the  play  and 
my  acting." 

19th.  —  The  Gurwoods  and  Miss  Mayer,  Lord  Beaumont,  Ch.  Bul- 
ler,  Mr.  Milnes,  C.  Young,  Dr.  Quinn,  Knox,  dined  with  us.  In  the 
evening  the  Procters,  Mrs.  Kitchener,  the  Chisholm,  Maclise,  the 
Spicers,  Miss  P.  Horton,  Mr.  Allen,  came  in. 

20th.  —  Lord  Nugent,  Miss  Adelaide  Kemble,  Mrs.  Reid,  Hetta 
Skerrett,  Messrs.  C.  Kemble,  Travers,  Cartwright,  Pierce  Butler, 
Beazley,  G.  Raymond,  Dr.  Elliotson,  Jerdan,  came  to  dine  with  us. 
Adelaide  Kemble  was  very  agreeable,  and  sang  in  the  evening  with  a 
passion  and  fervor  that  satisfied  me  of  her  claims  to  distinction. 

21st.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  T.  Cooke,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Westland  Marston, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brockedon,  Boxall,  Mr.  Roberts,  R.  A.,  Professor  E. 
Taylor,  Allen,  Z.  Troughton,  H.  Smith,  came  to  dinner. 

26th.  —  Dined  with  Kenyon.  Met  Rev.  Dr.  Hawtrey  (Eton),  Dr. 
Ashburner,  Babbage,  Browning,  Dyce,  Harness. 

April  2d.  —  Went  to  see  the  burletta  at  Covent  Garden,  which 
was  humorous,  gorgeous,  whimsical,  and  well  adapted  in  such  a  theater 
to  its  end.  In  this  species  of  entertainment  (not  properly  belonging 
to  a  national  theater,  but  rather  to  a  house  for  burletta,  etc.),  the 
Covent  Garden  Theater  people  bear  away  the  bell. 

Acted  Macbeth  very  fairly.  The  Queen  and  Prince  Albert  were 
present. 

5th.  —  To  Maclise,  and  was  very  much  pleased  to  see  his  grand 
picture  of  Hamlet,  which  was  splendid  in  color  and  general  effect. 
With  some  of  the  details  I  did  not  quite  agree,  particularly  the  two 
personages,  Hamlet  and  Ophelia.  Drove  to  Edwin  Landseer's  and 
saw  some  of  his  charming  works.  Went  on  to  Etty,  and  was  delighted 
with  his  gorgeous  colors  and'  ravishing  forins.  I  went  from  thence  to 
Drury  Lane  Theater,  where  I  transacted  business  with  Willmott, 
Serle,  Sloman,  the  painters,  etc.  Returned  home,  having  read  through 
the  second  act  of  the  farce  "The  Lady-Killer ,""  The  Trip  to  Mar- 
gate," one  act  and  part  of  another  of  "  The  Water  Carrier,"  and  part 
of  "  Intimate  Friends."  Employed  the  evening  in  looking  through 
some  folios  of  the  "  Galerie  de  Versailles  "  for  subjects  for  rooms  and 
costume  for  "  Plighted  Troth." 

Sth.  —  Acted  Gisippus,  for  the  last  time,  pretty  well.  Called  for 
and  well  received.  Now  here  is  a  complete  defeat  of  my  calculations. 
I  thought  it  a  material  object  in  opening  a  theater  to  have  such  a  play. 


496  HACREADrS  DIARIES.  1842. 

It  has  produced  nothing,  and  been  well  spoken  of.     There  is  some 
weakness  in  it,  which  I  have  not  yet  exactly  pointed  out. 

\lth.  —  Gave  tfie  employment  of  the  day  to  the  thought  and  read- 
ing of  my  part  of  Grimwood  in  "  Plighted  Troth."  A  note  from 
Monckton  Milnes,  wishing  me  to  meet  the  Prussian  Minister  (Bunsen) 
at  his  house  on  Thursday. 

19M. —  Rehearsed  the  play  of  "Plighted  Troth,"  which  occupied 
me  the  whole  day.  Mr.  Darley  was  present.  Business  with  all  the  de- 
partments. Fully  and  momentarily  occupied.  Coming  home,  found 
Forster,  who  had  come  to  dine.  In  the  evening  read  the  part  of  Grim- 
wood. 

20th.  —  Rehearsed  the  play  of  "  Plighted  Troth."  Became  confi- 
dent in  hope  about  it.  Looked  at  the  chance  of  a  brilliant  success. 
Serle  spoke  to  me.  Rested.  Acted  nervously ;  but  the  play  was  un- 
successful. Long  consultation  afterwards  on  what  should  be  done. 
Anderson,  C.  Jones,  Serle,  Willmott,  and  Forster.  I  wished  to  do 
justice  to  the  author,  and  we  agreed  at  last  to  give  it  another  trial. 
Chance,  I  fear,  there  is  none.  A  most  unhappy  failure  ;  I  have  felt  it 
deeply,  deeply. 

21st.  —  Mr.  Darley  called.  We  talked  over  the  matter  of  last  night. 
He  was  much  depressed,  and  I  agonized  for  him.  He  deserved  to  suc- 
ceed. The  result  of  our  conference  was,  that  he  could  not  make  the 
alterations  suggested  to  his  play  by  this  day's  rehearsal,  and,  therefore, 
that  he  would  wish  the  play  to  be  withdrawn. 

23d.  —  Herr  Schneider,  a  German  actor  from  Berlin,  speaking  Eng- 
lish remarkably  well,  called  on  me  and  sat  a  short  time.  Colonel 
Wilde,  Prince  Albert's  equerry,  came  with  Fred.  Haworth,  and  asked 
me  to  assist  him  about  his  costume  as  knight-attendant  on  Edward  III., 
for  the  fancy  ball  at  the  Palace.  Bradley  called  to  offer  to  paint  the 
portraits  in  "  Plighted  Troth."  Very  much  fatigued  ;  quite  unable  to 
rally  to  go  to  Murchison's  and  Babbage's  soirees.  I  cannot  do  it  with 
this  load  on  my  mind  and  body. 

2±th.  —  Colonel  Gurwood  called  with  Lord  Douro  and  Lord  Charles 
Wellesley,  the  latter  wanting  a  knight's  armor  of  Edward  III.'s  reign 
to  attend,  by  order,  Prince  Albert,  at  the  fancy  ball  at  the  Palace.  I 
showed  them  all  the  attention  in  my  power.  Gave  much  attention  to 
"  Marino  Faliero,"  which  I  begin  to  like,  but  I  never  dare  venture  to 
hope  again ! 

25th.  —  Acted  Macbeth  with  much  energy,  sustaining  the  character 
to  the  last.  Was  called  for,  and  well  received.  Herr  Schneider  came 
to  express  his  admiration  in  a  state  of  great  excitement ;  he  said  that  he 
had  observed  to  two  elderly  gentlemen  in  the  boxes  that  he  constantly 
read  in  English  newspapers  the  "  decline  of  the  drama,"  the  "  great 
days  of  the  drama  that  are  gone  ; "  but  he  would  ask,  when  was  there 
such  a  drama  as  this  ?  Englishmen  do  not  think  so. 

2Gth.  —  Lords  Douro  and  Charles  Wellesley  called  about  the  dress  of 
the  latter.  Showed  them  the  armor  and  gave  Lord  C.  W.  directions 
what  to  do.  Colonel  Wilde  came  shortly  after  on  the  same  errand. 


1842.  THE  QUEEN'S  FANCY  BALL.  497 

Bulwer  called  and  tried  on  some  dresses  ;  fixed  upon  that  of  Ruthven. 

27th.  —  Milnes  called  and  I  gave  directions  about  his  dress  for  the 
fancy  ball. 

28^.  —  Lord  Charles  Wellesley  called  about  his  dress.  I  left  him 
with  the  wardrobe-keeper.  Colonel  Wilde  came  on  the  same  errand. 
Attended  to  business  with  scene-painters,  wardrobe,  etc.  Very  much 
fatigued.  After  dinner  wrote  a  letter  to  Marianne  respecting  a  state 
visit  to  the  theater  by  Her  Majesty.  Note  from  Bulwer  about  his  dress. 

2Sth.  —  Rehearsed  with  care  the  play  of  "  Hamlet." *  Acted  Ham- 
let very  fairly. 

30th.  —  Dined  with  the  Royal  Academy.  Enjoyed  the  dinner  very 
much,  though  suffering  from  cold.  Spoke  with  the  different  Academi- 
cians, who  were  all  most  courteous  to  me,  with  the  Bishop  of  Norwich 
a  long  while.  Lord  Longford,  Lord  Norman  by,  etc.  Much  pleased 
with  the  speech  of  the  French  Ambassador,2  and  not  quite  satisfied 
with  the  general  tone  taken  as  to  the  relative  merits  of  British  and 
foreign  art.  Wondered  at  the  want  of  idea  in  the  old  Duke's  strange 
reply. 

May  od.  —  Babbage  called  about  the  Duke  of  Somerset's  dress. 
I  could  not  help  him  out. 

1th.  —  Note  from  Lord  Normanby  about  armor,  which  I  lent  to 
him.  Colonel  Buckley  (six  feet  three  inches !)  called  about  a  dress. 
I  did  my  best  for  him. 

8th.  —  Called  on  Sir  R.  Comyn  ;  very  glad  to  see  my  old  ac- 
quaintance again,  very  little  altered,  older,  but  not  showing  it  very 
much.  Called  on  Darley,  and  took  him  in  the  carriage  with  me. 
Left  a  card  at  Lansdowne  House.  Called  at  Lady  Blessington's ; 
sat  with  her  some  time. 

10th.  —  Milnes  called  about  his  dress,  tried  it  on.  Rehearsed  part 
of  "  Marino  Faliero,"  which  promises  to  act  well,  but  which  I  fear 
will  be  too  much  for  me  in  the  time  ;  consulted  Serle  and  Jones  about 
it,  and  as  to  the  financial  consequence  of  not  doing  it.  Withheld  the 
advertisement  to  make  an  effort. 

\Uh.  —  The  Twisses,  Goldsmids,  «Sir  John  Wilson,  Sir  Robert 
Comyn,  Chilton,  Delane,  junior,  Harness,  Leslie,  Fanny  Howarth 
came  to  dinner. 

15th. —  Lord  Beaumont,  Rogers,  Sheil,  Eastlake,  and  Mrs.  Nor- 
ton dined  with  us. 

20tk.  —  Weary,  weary  !  Rose  with  prayers  in  my  heart  for  the 
success  of  the  night's  experiment. 

Rehearsed  with  much  care  (what  occupied  a  long  morning)  the  play 
of  "Marino  Faliero." 

Rested  and  thought  over  my  character.     I  could  not  sleep.     Acted 

1  The  cast  was  :  King,  Mr.  G.  Bennett ;  Polonius,  Mr.  Compton  ;  Laertes,  Mr. 
Elton  ;  Horatio,  Mr.  Graham  ;  Guildenstern,  Mr.  Lynne  ;  Rosencrantz,  Mr.  Selby ; 
Osric,  Mr.  Hudson ;  Marcellns,  Mr.  Marston ;  First  Grave-digger,  Mr.  Keeley ; 
Ghost,  Mr.  Phelps  ;  Queen,  Mrs.  "Warner ;  Ophelia,  Miss  P.  Horton.  —  ED. 

2  Le  Comte  d'Aulaire.  —  ED. 

32 


408  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1842 

Marino  Faliero  in  parts  very  well ;  the  interest  of  the  play  grew 
upon  the  audience,  and  the  curtain  fell  upon  the  death  of  Faliero 
with  their  strong  sympathy.  Was  called  for  and  very  warmly  re- 
ceived. 

2'2d.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Everett,  Sir  John  and  Miss  Goldsmid,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Emerson  Tennent,  Barry,  R.  A.,  Sir  M.  A.  Shee.  P.  R.  A., 
Edwin  Landseer,  R.  A.,  and  Darley  dined  with  us.  "We  luul  an  even- 
ing party,  Staudigl,  Miss  Hawes,  T.  Cooke,  etc.,  Grattan  Cookc, 
Miss  Williams,  beautiful  duet  singers,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lover,  the  Fon- 
blanques,  Twisses.  Lady  Stepney,  Elliotson,  Babbage,  Wheatstone, 
( 'a rlyle,  Miss  Wild,  Marstons,  William  Smith  (Athelwold),  Procters, 
C.  Buller,  E.  Katers,  Sir  Charles  and  Lady  Morgan,  H.  Skerrett,  Mr. 
Nightingale,  Dunn,  Nicholson,  Maclise,  Forster,  Kenyon,  Boxall,  Z. 
Troughton,  Browning,  etc.  An  agreeable  dinner  party  and  a  very 
pleasant  evening. 

23rf.  —  Last  night  of  the  season.  Labored  through  the  day  to  get 
the  speech  into  my  head,  had  overmastered  it,  but  was  so  oppressed 
with  fatigue  of  mind  and  body  that  I  could  not  keep  my  eyes  open  ; 
rested  for  about  half  an  hour.  Acted  lago  very  unfinishedly,  very 
poorly.  Spoke  my  speech  falteringly  and  ill.  I  have  had  too  much 
upon  my  head.  Fox  and  Forster  came  into  my  room.  I  was  so 
nervous,  for  all  recollection  of  the  words  left  me  entirely.  I  had  too 
much  to  do. 

London  to  Dublin,  May  26th.  —  Took  leave  of  my  assembled  dear 
ones  —  the  blessed  ones  —  and  went  to  the  railway  station.  Had  one 
of  the  mail  carriages  to  myself  all  the  journey  except  from  Coventry 
to  Birmingham. 

Read  "  The  Recruiting  Officer  "  of  Farquhar,  which  does  not  suit 
the  theatrical  genius  of  our  time.  Read  "The  Twin  Rivals,"  in  which 
there  is  very  much  to  admire,  part  of  "  The  Plain  Dealer,"  in  which 
there  is  much  more. 

Arriving  at  Liverpool  at  seven  o'clock  (!)  I  went  down  to  the 
packet  and  got  a  sofa  for  my  berth.  The  evening  was  mild  and  calm. 
I  remained  on  deck  talking  witfi  Hudson  till  nine  o'clock  and  then 
lay  down.  I  listened,  when  woke  out  of  my  doze,  to  the  politics 
of  some  neighbors,  the  captain,  a  Dublin  citizen,  etc.,  over  their 
whisky  punch,  the  captain's  reasons  for  the  law  of  primogeniture, 
all  ending  and  beginning  in  his  wish  that  there  should  be  head  of 
the  family. 

Dublin,  May  fJOf/z.  —  Went  to  theater,  rehearsed  Gisippus ;  very, 
very  wcm-ied.  Wrote  a  short  note  to  Catherine.  Rested,  felt  wea- 
ried even  to  illness.  Acted  Gisippus  better  than  I  have  ever  yet 
done,  so  well,  that  I  think,  if  I  could  have  given  the  same  truth  and 
effect  to  it  the  first  night  in  London,  it  must  have  attracted,  and  yet 
who  can  say  ?  Called  for  and  very  well  received. 

June  13th. —  [Last  night  of  engagement  at  Dublin.] 

Birmingham,  June  17th.  —  Richelieu. 

London,  June  18th.  —  Received  a  copy  of  "  Edwin  the  Fair  "  from 
Henry  Taylor,  having  sent  to  purchase  it  at  Murray's. 


1842.  DEATH  OF  DR.  ARNOLD.  499 


to  24th.  —  [Engagement  at  Birmingham.] 
.  —  Packed  up  my  clothes,  etc..  paid  my  bill,  and  set  out  hy 
railway  to  Rugby.  A  very  roue  and  low  couple  were  put  into  my 
coupe,  but  I  could  not  read,  and  dozed  through  the  greater  part  of  my 
journey.  Walked  from  the  station  to  Rugby,  where  almost  all  traces 
of  my  boyish  days  are  obliterated  in  the  improvements  of  the  town. 
Called  on  Birch,  and  was  glad  to  find  him  so  well  ;  agreed  to  dine 
with  him,  and  went  on  to  call  on  Mary  Bucknill.  I  saw  her,  Lydia, 
Sam,  George,  Mr.  S.  Bucknill,  and  Georgiana.  Sat  with  them  till 
one  o'clock.  Heard  from  them  most  interesting  details  of  Doctor 
Arnold's  death.  I  was  very  much  touched  with  the  sad  but  beautiful 
account  they  gave  me  of  his  last  moments,  and  the  conduct  of  his 
wife. 

Dined  with  Birch,  three  of  the  little  Winstanleys  being  at  the  table. 
lie  also  related  some  pleasing  anecdotes  of  Arnold.  He  walked  with 
me  down  to  the  railway  station,  and  stayed  with  me  till  the  train  came 
up.  Found  all  well  at  home. 

London,  July  1st.  —  I  am  not  well;  weak  and  worn  in  body,  and 
depressed  in  mind  ;  its  elasticity  seems  gone  ;  I  have  no  spirits,  no 
ardor  ;  hope  gives  me  no  strength  ;  my  course  seems  near  its  close. 
I  often  have  sensations  that  make  me  feel  indifferent  to  this  world. 
Will  there  be  a  knowledge  in  another  state  of  being  of  those  we  have 
loved  hi  this  ?  —  if  so,  and  if  we  may  love  them  in  spirit  and  without 
reserve,  I  could  be  well  content  to  change  the  present. 

3d.  —  After  breakfast  called  on  Elliotson,  reading  Tennyson's  beau- 
tiful poems  by  the  way.  Consulted  him  on  my  indisposition  ;  he  pre- 
scribed for  me,  scarcely  giving  me  any  medicine,  and  that  only  condi- 
tionally. 

Eastbourne,  July  Qth  to  July  llth. 

London,  13th  July.  —  My  first  thoughts  were  of  that  beloved  child, 
who  lives  in  my  memory  as  something  angel-like  in  its  innocence  and 
beauty.  I  think  of  her  with  a  sorrow  and  a  love  that  seems  to  me 
stronger  than  my  feelings  are  to  any  of  those  dear  ones  whom  God 
has  spared  me  :  but  it  is  possible  I  may  mistake  the  exact  emotion 
which  I  cherish  towards  that  beloved  infant.  May  my  spirit  meet  hers 
in  another  state  of  being.  I  hope  and  pray  it  may  be  so.  Amen. 
Went  to  the  cemetery  at  Kensal  Green  to  visit  the  vault  where  she 
lies.  Blessings  on  her  sweet  spirit. 

Went  by  railway  to  Brighton.  Finished  on  my  journey  the  beau- 
tiful dramatic  poem  of  Philip  Van  Artevelde. 

Eastbourne,  14:th  July.  —  Gave  the  morning  to  the  consideration  of 
the  plan  and  estimates  of  the  scenery  for  "  King  John,"  by  Telbin. 
Wrote  a  letter  to  him  with  an  offer  of  £250  and  directions  for  several 
scenes.  Lay  down  upon  the  grass  after  dinner  to  rest  ;  the  sea  was 
very  beautiful. 

IQth.  —  Took  a  short  run  on  the  sands  with  the  children  after  break- 
fast, then  returned  to  the  continuation  of  "  King  John,"  which  I  ap- 
plied myself  strictly  to  and  completed  by  the  afternoon. 


500  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  18J2. 

Pleased  with  the  beauty  of  the  evening  and  the  scene  around  us. 
Gave  Willie  his  lesson  in  Virgil  and  in  scanning,  read  hia  hymn  to 
him,  and  heard  him  read.  Heard  Nina  repeat.  Went  again  over 
"  King  John,"  and  arranged  cast,  etc.  Began  the  arrangement  of  "  As 
You  Like  It." 

London,  August  23d.  —  Went  to  Drury  Lane  Theater,  looking  over 
Colonel  Hamilton  Smith's  letters  on  costume.  At  the  theater  entered 
at  once  on  business.  Spoke  to  Telbin.  Cast  the  play  of  "  King 
John,"  and  cut  out  parts.  Arranged  the  disposal  of  the  music  of  "  As 
You'  Like  It."  Mr.  Burgess  called,  and  I  spoke  with  him  about  the 
Queen's  box  furniture.  Business  with  C.  Jones.  T.  Cooke  and 
Mapleson  came,  and  we  made  a  thorough  examination  of  the  music  of 
"  King  Arthur,"  apportioning  all  the  parts,  and  deciding  finally  on  the 
mode  of  doing  it  —  a  long  and  laborious  task. 

27th.  —  To  Eastbourne. 

29th.  —  On  my  way  to  London  I  read  Marston's  tragedy  of  the 
"  Patrician's  Daughter,"  which  is  a  most  interesting  and  touching  play ; 
I  will  act  it  if  I  am  prosperous. 

Liverpool,  September  2d.  —  "  Lady  of  Lyons." 

Manchester,  September  3d.  —  "  Lady  of  Lyons." 

Bristol,  September  12th.  —  "Richelieu." 

London,  September  14th.  —  Went  to  painting-room;  thence  to  ward- 
robe, where  I  went  over  each  individual  dress  of  "  As  You  Like  It," 
fixing  costume,  etc.,  for  each. 

20th.  —  Went  to  see  "  Norma."  Miss  A.  Kemble  played  Norma. 
It  was  a  very,  very  clever  performance,  entitled  to  the  highest  praise 
for  the  skill  and  energy  with  which  it  is  done;  but,  O  heavens!  an 
Opera !  That  human  beings  can  be  found  to  disregard  Shakespeare, 
and  run  after  such  nonsense !  What  must  be  the  nature  of  a  medium 
of  expression  that  strips  every  comedy  of  its  laughter,  and  every 
tragedy  of  its  pathos  ? 

October  1st.  —  Went  to  Drury  Lane  Theater,  calling  at  Delcroix's 
to  purchase  rouge.  Attended  to  the  business  of  the  theater,  which 
was  most  harassing.  Rehearsed  the  play  of  "As  You  Like  It," 
which  kept  me  very  late.  Business,  business  all  the  day  and  all  the 
evening.  Was  called  for  by  the  audience  before  the  play  began  ;  was 
very  enthusiastically  received.  Our  play  of  "  As  You  Like  It " 
opened  our  season.  May  it  be  a  prosperous  one.  I  acted  Jaques  as 
well  as  I  could.  Was  called  for  after  the  play,  and  led  on  Mrs. 
Nisbett.1 

1  The  cast  was  :  Duke,  Mr.  Ryder ;  First  Lord,  Mr.  Elton  ;  Second  Lord,  Mr. 
H.  Phillips ;  Amiens,  Mr.  Allen  ;  Jaques,  Mr.  Macready ;  Duke  Frederick,  Mr. 
G.  Bennett;  Le  Beau,  Mr.  Hudson;  Oliver,  Mr.  Graham;  Jaques  (son  of  Sir 
Rowland),  Mr.  Lynne;  Orlando,  Mr.  Anderson  ;  Adam,  Mr.  Phelps ;  Touchstone, 
Mr.  Keeley ;  William,  Mr.  Compton ;  Pages,  Miss  P.  Horton  and  Miss  Gould  ; 
Rosalind,  Mrs.  Nisbett ;  Celia,  Mrs.  Stirling;  Phebe,  Miss  Fortescue;  Audrey, 
Mrs.  Keeley.  In  the  play-bill  Mrs.  Nisbett  and  Mr.  Ryder,  Madame  Vestris  and 
Mr.  Charles  Mathews,  were  announced  as  the  additional  engagements  of  the 
season.  —  ED. 


1842.  PRODUCTION  OF  "KING  JOHN."  501 

(jth. —  Acted  Jaques  better  than  I  have  yet  done.  Dickens,  Ma- 
clise,  Forster,  and  Mr.  Longfellow,  a  professor  at  one  of  the  U.  S. 
Universities,  came  into  my  room. 

$th.  —  Settled  with  Mr.  Head,  who  called,  the  dresses  of  the  court 
characters  in  "  King  John."  Afterwards  gave  the  whole  day  to  ar- 
range the  armor  dresses  correctly,  and  then  the  properties  required. 
Dined  with  Dickens.  Mr.  Longfellow,  Stanfield,  Maclise,  Forster, 
and  Harley  were  there. 

10th. —  Rehearsed  the  two  first  acts  of  "King  John."  Business 
with  various  people  about  "  King  John."  Saw  the  difficulty  of  pro- 
ducing it.  Acted  Hamlet  well  —  better  than  I  have  done  for  many 
days.  Was  called  for,  and  well  received.  Consulted  with  Serle  and 
Willmott  on  the  production  of  "  King  John."  Decided  on  not  hurry- 
ing it. 

18th — "Was  occupied  the  whole  of  the  day  by  the  business  neces- 
sary on  the  production  of  "  King  John."  The  whole  day,  and  at  times 
I  felt  as  if  I  were  near  distraction.  Quin,  the  Butlers,  Mr.  Sartoris, 
Dickens,  Longfellow,  and  Carlyle,  came  to  dinner. 

22d.  —  The  Duke  of  Beaufort  called,  and  inquired  of  me  about  the 
deer-skin  I  wanted  for  "  As  You  Like  It."  He  very  courteously  and 
kindly  said  he  would  send  to  Badminton,  and  if  there  was  not  one 
ready  he  would  desire  his  keeper  to  send  one  expres.  It  was  ex- 
tremely kind. 

24th. —  Acted  King  John  fairly.  Called  for  and  very  well  re- 
ceived. Gave  out  the  play.1  Serle,  Dickens,  Forster,  Emerson,  Ten- 
nent,  Stanfield,  Maclise,  came  into  my  room.  All  pleased. 

2&A.'  —  Jaques. 

27th.  —  Othello. 

28th,  31st.  —  King  John. 

November  2d.  —  Jaques. 

16th.  —  "  King  Arthur"  produced.  Called  for  afterwards,  and  very' 
enthusiastically  received. 

December  4th.  —  Dearest  Letitia's  birthday.  I  was  much  affected 
in  wishing  her  "  many  happy  returns  of  the  day  "  (and  I  pray  God  all 
those  to  come  may  be  most  happy  to  her),  feeling  that  we  both  have 
numbered  too  many  to  expect  very  many  more.  God's  will  be  done. 
God  bless  her. 

10th.  —  First  night  of  "  The  Patrician's  Daughter."  Spoke  the 
prologue  (by  Dickens)  tolerable  well.  Acted  uncertainly  the  part  of 
Mordauut,  but  the  play  was  much  applauded.  Fox  and  Marston 
came  in  ;  Marston  went  on  the  stage  in  obedience  to  the  call.  Note 
from  Lady  Morgan,  etc. 

2Qth.  —  My  beloved  Catherine  was  safely  delivered  of  a  daughter.2 

1  In  King  John,  Elton  was  the  Earl  of  Salisbury;  Phelps,  Hubert  De  Burgh; 
Anderson,  Faulconbridge ;  Kyder,  Cardinal  Pandulph;  Miss  Helen  Faucit  was 
the  Lady  Constance.  —  ED. 

2  Lycl'ia  Jane,  died  20th  June,  1858.  —  ED. 


502  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1843. 


1843.    ' 

February  4th.  —  Rehearsed  Browning's  play,  "  The  Blot  on  the 
Scutcheon." 

6th.  —  Mr.  Phelps  was  too  ill  to  play  to-night.  I  decided  on  under- 
studying his  part  in  Browning's  play. 

llth.  —  Production  of  the  play  of  " The  Blot  on  the  Scutcheon." 

24th.  —  Rehearsed  "  Much  Ado  About  Nothing "  and  Comus. 
Acted  Benedict  very  well.  The  audience  went  with  the  play  and 
with  Comus.  They  called  for  me  after  both  pieces.1 

March  15th.  —  Received  a  very  cordial  note  from  Etty ;  in  great 
delight  with  the  "  Much  Ado  "  and  "  Comus  "  of  last  night.  Listened 
to  the  rehearsal  of  the  music  of  "  Sappho." 

April  1st.  —  Saw  the  opera  of  "  Sappho,"  2  which  was  certainly  put 
upon  the  stage  as  no  opera  I  have  ever  seen  has  been  for  truth  and 
completeness ;  Miss  Novello  was  very  good.  The  house  in  amount 
was  even  below  my  calculations.  I  am  heart-sick  of  it  all. 

4th.  —  Called  on  Mclan.  His  wife  was  at  home ;  she  was  at  work 
on  her  picture,  of  an  interesting  woman  holding  a  child's  shoe  in  her 
hand,  and  looking  mournfully  at  a  cradle  in  which  the  clothes  were 
tumbled  about.  I  looked  for  the  child,  and  not  thinking  of  what  I 
said,  uttered,  "  The  cradle  is  empty  ?  "  "  Yes."  I  could  not  speak, 
and  the  tears  welled  to  my  eyes ;  I  thought  of  that  blessed  one  with 
whom  I  have  so  often  wished  to  be  companioned. 

10th.  —  Rehearsed  the  Easter-piece  of  "  Fortunio."  The  chorus, 
to  whom  I  had  given  the  indulgence  of  full  salary  last  week,  were  in 
an  apparent  state  of  rebellion  this  morning.  Attended  to  business 
with  Serle,  Planche",  etc.  Left  Drury  Lane  Theater  at  seven. 

2lst. —  Letter  from  Lord  Chamberlain's  Office,  closing  the  theater 
on  account  of  the  death  of  the  poor  Duke  of  Sussex,  a  kind,  good 
natured  man,  of  the  most  liberal  opinions  —  I  very  much  lament  him. 

22d.  —  Dined  with  Emerson  Tennent ;  met  the  Hanoverian  Minis- 
ter, an  Absolutist,  McCulloch,  Delane,  Law,  and  several  others.  Ten- 
nent talked  to  me  much  about  bringing  the  fashion  to  the  theater.  I 
doubt  the  possibility. 

24th.  —  Acted  Colonel  Green 8 1  know  not  how.  Called  for  and 
well  received.  Knowle's  came  and  thanked  me  repeatedly  and  very 
gratefully  for  what  I  had  done. 

1  The   cast  of  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  at  Drury  Lane   Theater,  included 
Mr.  Hudson,  Mr.  Lynne,  Mr.  Anderson,  Mr.  Phelps,  Mr.  W.  Bennett,  Mr.  Allen, 
Mr.  G.  Bennett,  Mr.  Selby,  Mr.  Compton,  Mr.  Keeley,  Mr.  Bender,  Mr.  Hance, 
Mr.  M.  Barnett,  Mr.  Ryder,  with  Miss  Fortescue,  and  Mrs.  Nisbett.    In  Comus, 
Miss  P.  Horton  and  Miss  Helen  Faucit  took  the  parts  of  the  Attendant  Spirit  and 
the  Lady.    Miss  Romer  took  that  of  Sabrina.     The  music  was  from  Handel  and 
Arne,  with  the  exception  of  one  air  from  the  original  composer,  Henry  Lawes. — 
ED. 

2  By  Pacini.  —  ED. 

8  In  J7ie  Secretary  by  Sheridan  Knowles.  —  ED. 


1843.  COMUS  — KING  HENRY  IV.  503 

26th.  —  The  darling  children  acted  "  Comus  "  in  the  drawing-room 
after  dinner,  interesting  and  amusing  me  very  much  ;  they  recited  the 
poetry  very  well  indeed,  and  only  gave  me  a  fear  lest  they  should  im- 
bibe a  liking  for  the  wretched  art  which  I  have  been  wasting  my  life 
upon.  God  forbid.  Went  in  the  evening  to  Mrs.  Pierce  Butler's. 
Saw  the  Sartorises,  Sir  C.  and  Lady  Morgan,  who  introduced  me  to 
Mrs.  Dawson  Darner,  Lord  Lansdowne,  Mr.  Hallam,  whom  I  was  so 
glad  to  meet,  Milinan,  Babbage,  Everetts,  etc. 

28th.  —  Acted  Colonel  Green  very  poorly  ;  called  for  and  well  re- 
ceived. Went  to  Mrs.  Sartoris's.  Saw  Young,  Benedict,  Mr.  Proc- 
ter, Hayward,  Butlers.  Rogers  and  Lord  Lansdowne  were  there. 

May  1st.  — Acted  Brutus  for  the  most  part  very  well.  Called  for 
and  well  received. 

5th.  —  Went  to  Drury  Lane  Theater,  reading  "  Comus."  Found 
Stanfield  there  refreshing  the  scene  of  "  Acis  and  Galatea,"  and  after- 
wards "  Comus."  Went  to  the  Athenaeum  to  dine  with  Stanfield,  E. 
Landseer,  and  Eastlake;  Barry,  Wells,  Romilly,  etc.,  were  of  the 
party.  We  all  went  to  the  theater  ;  I  acted  Comus. 

6th.  —  Rehearsed  "  The  School  for  Scandal."  Met  the  committee 
and  had  a  long  conference  with  them.  They  will  not  be  able  to  come 
to  terms  with  me.  Acted  Joseph  Surface  very  fairly. 

13th.  —  Rehearsed  Athel wold.  Dear  old  Sir  W.  Allan  called.  I 
gave  him  the  Gloucester  box,  that  he  might  see  at  his  perfect  ease. 
He  seemed  quite  affected  in  shaking  hands  with  me. 

18th. — Acted,  or  rather  scrambled  through  Athelwold ;  was  called 
for.  After  the  play  spoke  with  W.  Smith,  the  author,  who  came  in. 
I  have  acted  against  my  own  judgment  in  taking  this  part,  but  I  did  it 
for  the  author's  interest. 

29th.  —  Acted  King  Henry  IV.  The  house  was  very  good,  for 
which  I  am  most  thankful.1 

30th.  —  Fox  called  to  express  his  gratification  at  last  night's  per- 
formance. Cobden  and  Wilson  of  the  Anti-Corn  Law  League  called 
to  speak  about  taking  Drury  Lane  Theater  next  year  for  fourteen 
nights  !  Acted  Leontes  tamely.  Called  for  and  well  received. 

June  7th.  —  Received  a  note  from  W.  Anson,  informing  me  that  the 
Queen  would  command  on  Monday,  an  act  of  kindness  which  I  felt 
very  much.  Sir  William  Martins  called  to  give  me  the  official  intima- 
tion of  Her  Majesty's  visit. 

10th.  —  Mr.  Bethune2  called  and  sat  with  me  some  time.  In  a 
strictly  private  conversation  he  talked  with  me  on  the  subject  of  the 
Bill  he  is  commissioned  to  prepare  with  regard  to  theaters.  Appointed 
to  see  him  at  his  office  on  Thursday  next  at  three  o'clock. 

1  The  receipts  of  this  evening's  performance  were  to  be  given  as  the  subscription 
of  the  Drury  Lane  Company  to  the  Siddons  Memorial  Fund.     The  fourth  act  of 
Henry  IV.  was  performed.     Two  acts  of  Der  Frieschutz,  (in  which  Staudigl  was 
the  Caspar).     The  farce  of  Is  He. Jealous?  with  Mrs.  Warner,  Mrs.  Nisbett,  Mrs. 
Keeley,  and  Mr.  Hudson  ;  and  Fortunio. 

2  Mr.  Drinkwater  Bethune,  then  Parliamentary  Draftsman  to  the  Government. 
—  En. 


504  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1843 

12l/t.  —  Went-  to  Drury  Lane  Theater.  A  day  of  business,  speak- 
ing to  people,  settling  little  matters,  giving  orders,  etc.  Gave  the 
actors  invitations,  refused  several  applications  for  admission.  Saw 
Lord  Delawarr  about  the  Queen's  box,  etc.  Sent  and  took  Andrew's 
box  for  Her  Majesty's  suite.  Acted  Jaques  very  well.  Was  called 
for  and  the  Queen  sent  to  order  me  to  go  on,  but  I  was  undressed. 
Lord  G.  was  as  officious  as  if  he  had  been  stage  manager  on  £2  per 
week.  When  the  Queen  came  from  her  box,  she  stopped  Lord  Dela- 
warr and  asked  for  me.  She  said  she  was  much  pleased  and  thanked 
me.  Prince  Albert  asked  me  if  this  was  not  the  original  play.  I  told 
him  :  Yes,  that  we  had  restored  the  original  text.  After  lighting  them 
out,  I  went  into  the  scene-room,  which  was  filled  with  people,  all  de- 
lighted with  their  evening. 

14^.  —  Wrote  out  my  address  in  anticipation  of  inquiry  for  it  this 
evening.  Went  to  Drury  Lane  Theater.  Attended  to  business  ;  very 
low  in  spirits ;  could  scarcely  repress  the  tears  that  rose  to  my  eyes 
when  Miss  Horton  spoke  to  me.  Rehearsed  the  two  or  three  short 
scenes  of  "  Macbeth."  Gave  directions  to  Sloman,  etc.,  to  put  the 
scenes  and  properties  in  good  order  to  be  rendered  up  to  the  pro- 
prietors. Saw  Serle  on  business.  Dined  very  early.  Rested  and 
thought  over  my  character  and  my  address.  Was  in  the  lowest  state 
of  depression  —  was  actually  ill  from  my  state  of  mind.  Spoke-  to  Mr. 
Willmott  upon  what  was  needful  to  be  done. 

On  appearing  in  Macbeth,  the  whole  house  rose  with  such  continued 
shouting  and  waving  of  hats  and  handkerchiefs,  that  I  was  quite  over- 
come ;  I  was  never  so  affected  by  the  expression  of  sympathy  by  an 
audience.  When  wearied  with  shouting,  they  changed  the  applause 
to  a  stamping  of  feet,  which  sounded  like  thunder  ;  it  was  grand  and 
awful !  I  never  saw  such  a  scene  !  I  was  resolved  to  act  my  best, 
and  I  think  I  never  played  Macbeth  so  well.  I  dressed  as  quickly  as 
I  could,  and  went  forward  to  receive  another  reception  from  that 
densely  crowded  house,  that  seemed  to  emulate  the  first.  It  was  un- 
like anything  that  ever  occurred  before.  I  spoke  my  speech,  and  re- 
tired with  the  same  mad  acclaim.1 

1  The  play-bills  had  announced  the  relinquishmcnt  of  Mr.  Macrcady's  direc- 
tion of  the  theater,  and  his  last  appearance  in  London  for  a  very  considerable 
period.  The  season  (1842-3)  had  been  marked  by  the  production  of  Shakespeare's 
As  You  Like  It,  King  John,  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  and  Cymbeline ;  of  the  new 
plays  of  The  Patrician's  Daughter,  The  Blot  on  the  Scutcheon,  The  Secretary,  and 
Atnelwold ;  of  Mr.  Planche's  Fortunio  (as  an  Easter  Piece),  and  of  the  opera  of 
Sappho,  and  of  the  operetta  The  Queen  of  the  Thames.  To  these  must  be  added 
Congreve's  Love  for  Love;  adapted  for  the  representation,  and  Dryden's  King 
Arthur,  which  neither  obtained  nor  deserved  the  success  of  Acts  and  Galatea, 
Planche's  Follies  of  a  Night,  Morton's  Thumping  Legacy,  and  the  other  new  farces 
of  the  Attic  Stonj  and  The  Eton  Boy.  There  had  also  been  performed,  of  Shakes- 
peare's  plays,  Hamlet,  Macbeth,  Othello,  The  Winter's  Tale,  Julius  Caesar,  Henry  I V. 
and  Catherine  and  Petruchio;  the  other  plavs  of  She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  The  School 
for  Scandal,The  Rivals,  The  way  to  keep  //I'M,  The  Provoked  Husband,  The  Jealous 
Wife,  The  Stranger,  The  Road  to  Ruin,  Jane  Shore,  Virqinius,  Werner,  The  Lady 
of  Lyons,  Marino  Faliero ;  also  Ads  and  Galatea,  The  Prisoner  of  War,  and  The 
Midnight  Hour ;  the  operas  of  Der  Freischutz.  The  Duenna,  Gazxa  fadra,  and 
Sonnambula,  and  the  minor  pieces  of  Patter  v.  Clatter,  Tlie  Loan  of  a  Lover,  Is  He 


1843.  TESTIMONIAL  PRESENTED.  505 

1  Gth.  —  Wrote  to  Mr.  Anson  a  letter  of  thanks  tb  Prince  Albert 
and  the  Queen.  Called  at  the  Thatched  House  Tavern  and  put  down 
my  name  for  the  Rugby  dinner.  Went  on  to  Drury  Lane  Theater. 
Saw  Serle,  Anderson,  Willmott,  C.  Jones,  business  with  all ;  gave 
orders  ;  saw  my  closets  emptied  —  my  heart  was  over  full.  At  Slo- 
man's  request  I  passed  round  the  scene-rooms  and  saw  all  put  away  in 

tthe  best  order.  I  could  have  wept  to  think  of  all  these  efforts  and 
expenditure  come  to  nothing  !  I  desired  Jones  to  give  up  the  theater 
to  Dunn,  I  could  not  bear  to  look  at  it  again.  Came  home  dejected 
to  the  last  degree.  Dined  with  Everett ;  met  the  Leicester  Stanhopes, 
Mrs.  Norton,  E.  Landseer,  Hayward,  Rives. 

June  I  $th.  —  Woke  early  to  go  over  the  speech  ;  got  up  to  ham- 
mer at  the  speech.  Mr.  Brewster  called  ;  still  the  speech.  Note 
from  Johnson ;  continued  driving  at  this  speech,  disheartened,  dis- 
mayed, and  despairing,  till  the  hour  arrived  for  me  to  attend  at  Wil- 
lis's Rooms.  I  drove  down  there,  saw  Dickens,  Forster,  D'Eyncourt, 
Maclise  at  the  door.  D'P^yncourt  took  me  into  the  Committee  Room  ; 
Bourne  was  there  and  two  sons  of  D'Eyncourt.  The  Duke  of  Cam- 
bridge came  soon  after,  and  asked  many  questions  about  the  testi- 
monial, which  stood  in  the  room,  and  which  he  very  much  admired. 
I  was  introduced  to  him,  and  he  talked  to  me  for  some  time  about 
Drury  Lane  Theater  very  complimentarily.  At  one  o'clock  we  went 
into  the  Great  Room.  The  platform  was  crowded,  but  I  could  not 

.look,  and  therefore  recognized  very  few.  The  Duke  spoke  better 
than  I  have  ever  heard  him.  I  hesitated  and  could  not  proceed  at 
the  passage  of  the  stage  business.  I  was  enabled  only  through  the 
applause  to  recover  myself.  The  Duke  took  his  leave,  and  I,  after  a 
few  words  with  Bulwer,  whom  I  saw,  left  the  room,  sought  my  car- 
riage, and  drove  home. 

[The  most  important  passages  in  Macready's  speech,  as  given  in  The  Times 
newspaper  report  of  the  proceedings,  were  as  follows  : 

"  On  my  own  behalf,  and  in  the  name  of  the  members  of  my  profession,  I  may 
be  permitted  to  offer  to  your  Royal  Highness  our  heartfelt  thanks  for  the  honor 
you  have  conferred  upon  the  Drama,  in  condescending  to  appear  upon  this  occa- 
sion. It  is  a  condescension  of  which  I  am  deeply  sensible,  —  one  that  I  can  never 
forget.  To  all  who  have  honored  me  by  registering  their  names  in  the  cause  of  the 
Drama,  I  return  my  warmest  thanks.  I  thank  them  for  their  generous  sympathy 
in  my  endeavors  to  elevate  my  art.  I  thank  them  for  this  substantial  memorial  of 
their  appreciation  of  my  motives.  I  thank  them  for  this  crowning  gift,  which 
assures  me  that,  whatever  may  have  been  the  pecuniary  results  of  my  attempts  to 
redeem  the  Drama,  I  have  secured  some  portion  of  public  confidence.  If,  during 
my  career  as  manager,  it  was  my  lot  to  meet  with  some  difficulties,  I  have  been 
sustained  and  cheered  on  by  the  approval  and  support  of  most  indulgent  and  dis- 
cerning patrons.  By  those  who  regard  all  things  with  the  eye  of  Mammon,  ever 
looking  downwards,  it  may  have  been,  indeed  it  has  been,  hinted  that  I  was 
actuated  only  by  sordid  motives  ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  their  ungenerous  insinuations, 
I  can  repose  in  this  proud  assurance  of  your  approval.  I  can  look  back  without 
repining  at  the  experiment  made  at  Covent  Garden  Theater,  during  my  manage- 
ment of  it,  and  subsequently  renewed  at  Drury  Lane.  The  result  is  not  for  me  to 
speak  about.  You  cannot  have  forgotten  the  state  of  the  theater  in  1837 — it  is 

Jealous*  The  Windmill,  together  with  the  usual  Christmas  pantomime,  which  was 
founded  on  the  storv  of  William  Tell.  —  ED. 


506  MACREADTTS  DIARIES.  1843. 

notorious.  I  thought  a  favorable  opportunity  was  then  presented  for  the  restora- 
tion of  the  national  Drama  —  for  raising  my  degraded  art.  I  made  the  attempt, 
though  at  the  prospect,  I  may  say,  indeed,  the  certainty,  of  a  diminution  of  income. 
I  was  not  without  hopes  that  the  experiment  would  have  answered  my  expecta- 
tions ;  and  I  trust  that  even  now  it  has  in  some  degree  succeeded.  I  nave  been 
encouraged  and  cheered  on  by  the  respectable  portion  of  the  public  press,  although 
there  were  some  writers  pleased  to  assert  that  my  motives  were  not  altogether  dis- 
interested. They  hinted  that  I  resorted  to  these  means  only  to  entrap  favor,  but 
I  beg  to  assure  those  gentlemen  that  it  was  not  by  any  such  means  that  I  sought 
to  succeed.  I  aimed  at  elevating  everything  represented  on  the  stage.  I  sought 
to  furnish  the  dramas  in  which  the  genius  and  talents  of  the  players,  the  painters, 
and  the  musicians,  could  be  combined.  I  hoped  to  introduce  them  successively  as 
illustrators  of  the  poet.  It  was  my  object  to  carry  upwards  all  the  parts  of  a 
drama,  the  poet  being  the  first  consideration,  but  that  no  actor,  however  subordi- 
nate, might  not  help  to  elevate  his  art  with  himself.  I  feel  myself  unequal  to  say 
all  that  I  could  wish  to  say.  I  have  only  now  to  return  to  your  Royal  Highness 
my  most  grateful  thanks  for  this  proof  of  public  confidence  in  my  motives  This 
beautiful  memorial  of  public  approbation  of  my  humble  efforts  in  the  cause  of  the 
Drama  I  must  regard  as  the  augury  of  a  brighter  era.  It  encourages  me  to  hope 
that  that  cause  will  yet  be  efficiently  supported  in  a  well-regulated  theater.  Once 
more,  accept  my  best  thanks  —  I  might  vary  my  phrase,  but  I  will  only  reiterate 
the  expression  of  that  gratitude  which  your  kindness  has  inspired,  and  which  will 
be  ever  engraven  on  my  heart." 

The  testimonial  itself  (left  by  Macready  to  descend  as  an  heir-loom  in  his  family) 
is  thus  described  : 

"  The  group,  which  has  been  manufactured  at  the  establishment  of  Mr.  Smith, 
of  Duke  Street,  Lincoln's-inn-fields,  represents  Shakespeare  standing  on  a  pedestal, 
at  the  base  of  which,  Mr.  Macready,  habited  in  the  costume  of  the  early  stage,  is 
seated,  having  in  his  hands  a  volume.  He  is  attended  by  the  muse  of  comedy, 
Thalia,  and  the  muse  of  tragedy,  Melpomene,  and  as  connected  with  the  subject  on 
which  the  actor  is  supposed  to  be  employed. —  the  restoration  of  the  original  text 
of  the  plays  of  Shakespeare,  the  muse  Clio  is  also  introduced.  On  the  other  side 
of  the  pedestal  is  Apollo  with  an  attendant  group  of  subordinate  figures.  Masks, 
etc.,  are  seen  on  the  ground  on  which  the  figures  are  placed.  The  whole  of  this 
portion  of  the  testimonial  stands  on  a  base  of  triangular  form,  on  one  side  of  which, 
within  a  metope,  is  represented  the  senate  scene  in  Othello  ;  in  a  metope  on  another 
side  of  the  base  is  a  representation  of  the  prologue  scene  in  Henry  V. ;  and  in  the 
third  metope,  on  the  remaining  side  of  the  base,  the  senate  scene  in  Coriolanus. 
At  the  angles  of  the  base  three  boys  hold  tablets  on  which  are  represented  the 
storm  scene  in  Lear,  the  meeting  of  the  witches  in  Macbeth,  and  a  scene  from  the 
Tempest.  The  scenes  are  all  in  relief  in  frosted  or  dull  silver,  of  very  delicate  and 
exquisite  workmanship.  The  base  itself  is  highly  polished,  and  forms  an  admir- 
able contrast  and  background  to  the  figures  and  auxiliaries.  The  whole  rests 
upon  a  plinth  of  good  form,  supported  by  feet.  The  composition  is  remarkably 
fine  and  the  combinations  perfect.  All  the  figures  accord,  harmonize,  and  concur 
to  carry  out  the  design  and  sentiment.  The  execution  is  equally  good,  and  the 
likeness  of  Mr.  Macready  correct  and  full  of  spirit.  It  bears  this  inscription  : 

"  To  WILLIAM  CHARLES  MACREADY, 
In  commemoration  of  his  Management  of  the  Theater  Royal, 

Co  vent  Garden, 

In  the  seasons  of  1837-8,  and  1838-9, 

When  his  Personation  of  the  Characters,  his  Restorations  of 

the  Text,  and  his  Illustration  of  the  best  Intellectual 

Aids  of  the  Historical  Facts  and  Poetical 

Creations  of  the  Plays  of 

Shakespeare, 

Formed  an  Epoch  in  Theatrical  Annals 
Alike  Honorable  to  his  own  Genius,  and  Elevating  in  its 

Influence  upon  Public  Taste, 

This  Testimonial  is  presented  by 

The  Lovers  of  the  National  Drama,"  —  ED.] 


1843.  BREAKFAST  WITH  MILNE S.  507 

Sir  Edward  Codrington  called,  a  very  delightful  old  gentleman  and 
sailor.  An  idly  busy  afternoon  ;  the  Emerson  Tennents,  Talfourds, 
Procters,  Travers,  Milnes,  McKinnon,  Babbage  came  to  dinner. 

27th,  —  Note  from  Cobden  with  appointment  at  eight ;  from  Milnes. 
After  dinner  went  to  Norfolk  Street  to  meet  Cobden  and  Wilson ; 
talked  over  politics,  and  principally  the  means  of  the  Corn  Law 
League.  Advised  them  with  regard  to  Drury  Lane  Theater.  Cob- 
den told  me  he  knew  the  theater  well ;  that  he  had  written  a  play, 
called  "  The  Phrenologist ; "  he  had  taken  it  there,  and  knew  Price 
and  old  Reynolds. 

July  1st.  —  Went  to  breakfast  with  Milnes;  met  a  captain  from 
China,  a  Mr.  Rowley,  from  the  borders  of  Abyssinia,  Carlyle,  Chev- 
alier Bunsen,  Lord  Morpeth  aiid  several  other  agreeable  people  whose 
names  I  did  not  catch.  I  spent  a  pleasant  morning,  liking  Bunsen 
very  much  indeed,  Lord  Morpeth  very  much.  Went  down  to  West- 
minster Hall  and  saw  the  cartoons  ;  most  pleased  with  Caractacus  led 
in  triumph  through  Rome  and  the  Trial  by  Jury,  but  also  pleased 
with  the  Landing  of  Caesar  and  the  Battle  for  the  Beacon.  Saw 
several  persons  that  I  knew,  to  whom  I  did  not  speak,  as  I  did  not 
know  how  far  they  might  think  themselves  lowered  in  their  own 
opinion  by  speaking  to  me. 

13th.  —  The  birthday  of  my  beloved  Joan.  I  see  the  sweet  beauty 
of  that  darling  child,  and  hear  the  music  of  her  innocent  merriment, 
and  see  her  in  helpless  state  of  suffering  —  the  blessed  angel.  I  feel 
that  in  dying  I  have  something  to  rejoin  that  I  dearly,  dearly  love. 
My  mother  and  my  child  are  spirits  to  my  thoughts,  to  meet  me  in 
another  state  of  being.  God  grant  it.  Went  out  with  dear  Cather- 
ine and  Nina  to  Kensal  Green  Cemetery  to  see  the  vault  where  my 
beloved  child  lies. 

22rf. —  Went  out  and  called  at  the  Athenaeum  to  look  at  Macau- 
lay's  article.  Walked  across  park  to  Home  Office.  Saw  a  person 
who  had  known  me  all  through  my  career,  from  Newcastle,  Paris,  on- 
wards. Saw  Sir  James  Graham,1  and  Mr.  Manners  Sutton.  Asked 
Sir  James  to  present  my  petition.'2  He  talked  upon  it;  said  he  be- 
lieved the  Lord  Chamberlain  had  the  power  of  granting  licenses  ; 
and,  in  confidence,  gave  me  the  draft  of  the  Bill  to  be  brought  for- 
ward before  the  House.  Read  the  draft  of  the  Act. 

24th — Went  to  Home  Office;  waited  and  had  a  conference  with 
Manners  Sutton,  to  whom  I  complained  of  the  injustice  done  to  my- 
self and  the  dramatic  art  by  the  Bill  of  Sir  J.  Graham  as  it  stands. 
I  urged  the  right  of  acting  Shakespeare  being  given  to  the  licensed 
theaters  if  the  patent  theaters  were  unable  to  act  his  works.  He 
promised  to  take  it  into  consideration.8 

1  Sir  James  Graham  was  then  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Home  Department. 
Mr.  Manners  Sutton  (now  Viscount  Canterbury)  was  Under  Secretary.  — ED. 

a  The  Petition  was  presented  on  1st  August,  1843,  and  is  printed  in  the  Ap- 
pendix to  the  44th  lleport  on  Public  Petitions,  1843,  p.  527.  (See  end  of  Diary 
for  1843.)  — ED. 

3  The  Licensing  Act  afterwards  passed  in  1843  extended  the  Lord  Chamber- 


508  HACREADYS  DIARIES.  1843. 

August  llth —  Went  to  Westminster,  and  called  upon  the  Dean,1 
whom  I  found  an  agreeable  arid  most  good-natured  man.  I  explained 
my  business  to  him,  viz.,  to  ask  the  remission  of  the  Dean  and  Chap- 
ter fees  in  the  case  of  Mrs.  Siddons's  monument.  He  went  with  me 
into  the  Abbey,  and  I  showed  him  the  sites  selected  by  Chantrey ;  we 
talked  much.  He  wished  me  to  return  to  see  a  portrait  of  Ben  Jon- 
son  by  Vandyke,  a  very  charming  thing.  He  showed  me  many  oth- 
ers ;  some,  very  good  ones,  a  Rembrandt,  a  portrait  of  Wilson,  etc. 
He  then  wished  me  to  return  to  his  study,  and  I  sat  with  him  some 
time. 

18th.  —  Parsons  came,  as  clerk,  to  our  Committee;  gave  him  his 
work  to  do.  Procter  and  Stanfield  came,  and  Lord  Lansdowne,  which 
was  very  kind.  We  talked  for  some  time  and  then  proceeded  to 
business.  I  stated  the  amount  received  in  the  bank,  and  read  the 
various  letters  from  the  various  sculptors.  Campbell's  alto-relievo  was 
shown,  and  we  went  down-stairs  to  look  at  his  design  for  a  statue. 
Lord  Lansdowne  strongly,  and  all  of  us  very  warmly  thought  that  the 
relievo  was  so  simple,  so  original,  and  so  completely  within  our  funds, 
that  it  was  entitled  to  adoption.  Resolutions  were  made  and  drawn 
up  and  carried  to  that  effect,  etc.  Lord  Lansdowne  left  us  with  very 
warm  expressions  to  me,  and  we  talked  over  matters  till  it  was  done. 
Rejoiced  in  having  done  so  much,  advanced  so  far,  in  this  work  that  I 
had  taken  in  hand. 

Hyde,  August  21st.  —  Mrs.  Norton  has  sent  a  note  inviting  us  to 
meet  Lord  Melbourne  at  her  house  to-morrow,  as  he  wished  to  speak 
to  me  about  the  theater.  Catherine  accepted  the  invitation. 

London,  August  22d.  —  Dined  with  Mrs.  Norton  ;  met  Lady  Con- 
yngham,  Lady  Melbourne,  Sidney  Herbert,  Kohl,  and  the  Sheridans. 
Rogers  came  in  in  the  evening. 

2Gth.  —  I  went  with  Stanfield  to  the  Abbey,  where  we  met  Camp- 
bell ;  we  went  over  the  eastern  end  of  it,  admiring  the  pictures  and 
views  it  afforded  us.  I  showed  them  the  different  sites  for  the  Siddons 
bust,  and  they,  as  I  foresaw,  acknowledged  the  superior  effect  of  that 
in  the  Nightingale  monument  chapel.  We  instructed  Campbell  to 
apply  to  the  Dean  and  Chapter  for  it,  and  Stanfield  agreed  to  act  as 
my  deputy  during  my  absence.  Called  with  Stanfield  on  Barry,  and 
got  an  order  to  see  the  Houses  of  Parliament.  Called  at  Briggs, 
where  Stanfield  saw  his  portrait  of  myself,  with  which  he  expressed 
himself  very  much  delighted.  Found  Mr.  Ryder  at  home,  and  went 
over  the* scenes  of  "Othello"  with  him. 

Went  to  Richmond,  to  the  Star  and  Garter,  where  I  was  received 
by  the  party  expecting  me,  Dickens,  Maclise,  Barham,  E.  Landseer, 
Fox,  Dillon,  F.  Stone,  Stanfield,  Forster,  George  Raymond,  Quin, 
H.  Smith,  Carew,  an  amateur  singer.  A  very  elegant  dinner,  and 

Iain's  jurisdiction  to  the  whole  of  the  metropolis ;    and   since   its  passing,  the 
monopoly  of  the  old  patent  theaters  to  perform  the  regular  drama  has  ceased  to 
exist — ED. 
*  Dr.  Turton,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Ely.  —  ED. 


1843.  DEPARTURE  FOR  AMERICA.  509 

enjoyed  by  a  company  in  the  most  perfect  harmony  of  feeling  and 
spirits.  Dickens  proposed  the  only  toast  of  the  evening,  my  health, 
etc.,  in  a  very  feeling  and  eloquent  speech.  I  had  not  had  time  before 
to  ponder  the  circumstances  of  my  departure,  and  I  quite  broke  down 
under  it.  I  could  not  speak  for  tears,  or  very  inefficiently.  After- 
wards a  most  joyous  evening,  and  the  warmest  emotions  of  regard  and 
regret  pervaded  the  party. 

2$th.  —  Letters  from  D'Eyncourt,  wishing  me  to  visit  him  at  his 
country  seat,  and  from  Carlyle  inclosing  two  letters  of  introduction  to 
the  United  States.  Went  to  my  last  sitting  to  Thorburn.  Catherine 
called  for  me  and  we  walked  home  together. 

September  2d.  —  Read  the  number  of  "  Chuzzlewit,"  the  most 
powerful  of  the  book  which  Dickens  is  now  employed  upon,  but  as 
bitter  as  it  is  powerful ;  and  against  whom  is  this  directed  ?  "  Against 
the  Americans,"  is  the  answer.  Against  how  many  of  them  ?  How 
many  answer  to  his  description  ?  I  am  grieved  to  read  the  book. 
Received  a  letter  from  him  telling  me  that  he  had  received  a  strong 
expostulatory  letter  from  Captain  Marryat  on  the  subject  of  his 
accompanying  me,  and  that  on  my  account,1  he  would  therefore  deny 
himself  the  indulgence  of  shaking  hands  with  me  on  board  ship.  His 
letter  was  generous,  affectionate,  and  most  friendly. 

Went  to  London  Library,  where  Catherine  and  the  children,  return- 
ing from  their  breakfast  with  Rogers,  met  me.  Dickens  and  Forster 
came,  and  H.  Smith  and  Rogers.  We  met  Catherine  at  the  door  of 
Buckingham  Palace  Garden,  were  shown  the  pavilion  in  the  garden 
(how  beautiful  the  garden  is  !),  and  the  frescoes  of  Etty,  Stanfield, 
Maclise,  Leslie,  Sir  W.  Ross,  a  beginning  by  Edwin  Landseer.  Stan- 
field's  looks  best.  Went  through  the  state  rooms  of  the  Palace  ;  the 
pictures  are  excellent.  Took  leave  of  Rogers,  running  after  him  in 
the  garden  ;  we  parted  most  cordially.  Took  leave  of  H.  Smith  and 
Dickens,  who  were  most  affectionate.  Sent  note,  with  Catherine's 
signature  and  my  book,  to  Ransom's.  Called  on  the  Bishops,  Sir  Isaac 
Goldsmid,  Holford,  Jonathan  Birch,  J.  Morris,  Mr.  Butler,  Mrs.  Rolls. 
Packed  up  my  little  bag.  Forster  dined  with-  us.  Set  off  for 
Brighton  ;  read  a  few  lines  of  Madame  de  Stael.  Notes  and  letters  of 
introduction  from  Leslie,  most  kind. 

3d. — Rose  early  and  left  Brighton  by  the  first  train,  reading  by  the 
way  Madame  de  Stael's  "  Treatise  on  the  Art  of  Acting."  Thought 
much.  Arrived  at  home  ;  instantly  applied  myself  to  business,  pack- 
ing with  all  speed.  Captain  Marryat  called  to  shake  hands  with  me. 
Thorburn,  whom  I  paid  for  his  miniatures,  etc.,  C.  Jones,  General 
Alexander,  kind  man.  Arranged  my  accounts ;  continued  packing. 
T.  Landseer  called  as  we  were  in  the  carriage  to  call  on  him  ;  he 
went  with  us  to  his  brother's,  who  was  from  home.  Called  on  King, 

1  Because  he  thought  that  Macready's  reception  in  the  United  States  might  be 
prejudiced  if  it  were  known  that  he  had  been  accompanied  on  his  departure  from 
England  by  the  writer  of  Chuzzlewit  and  of  the  American  Notes.  (See  Forster's 
Life  of  Dickens  under  this  date.)  — ED. 


510  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1843 

Lady  Blessington,  whom  I  saw  ;  Elliotson,  not  at  home  ;  Procter  and 
Kenyon.  Wrote  to  Leslie.  Dined  with  the  children.  God  forever 
bless  them.  D'Orsay  and  Edwin  Landseer  called ;  just  shook  hands 
with  them.  Note  from  Lady  Blessington.  Sent  Siddons's  paper,  with 
note  and 'order  on  Contts,  to  Stanfield.  "Wrote  a,  note  to  Lord  Hather- 
ton.  Packed  up.  Heard  my  blessed  children  their  prayers,  and  then 
read  prayers  among  us  all.  My  God,  hear  Thou  and  grant  me  to  find 
in  a  happy  return  those  precious  beings  improved  in  health  of  mind 
and  body,  and  progressing  in  the  paths  of  wisdom  and  virtue,  happy 
in  their  own  belief  of  doing  right.  Amen. 

To  Liverpool,  September  \th.  —  Rose  at  a  very  early  hour ;  pre- 
pared for  my  departure  ;  kissed  my  beloved  children.  Reached  Bir- 
mingham ;  amused  with  the  passengers  there.  Landed  and  set  off  in 
the  Liverpool  train.  Went  to  Adelphi,  from  thence  to  the  river, 
where  we  took  boat  to  near  the  Caledonia,  a  very  comfortable  ship,  in 
which  I  saw  my  luggage  land. 

5th.  —  Took  leave,  after  some  fond  and  sad  talk,  cheerfully  and  well 
of  my  dearest  wife  and  sister.  Went  with  Forster  to  the  quay.  We 
reached  the  ship  and  came  on  board.  What  a  scene !  Bade  dear 
Forster  farewell ;  he  was  greatly  aifected.  I  looked  at  my  fellow- 
passengers  —  eighty.  Thought  of  my  wife ;  watched  the  gorgeous 
sunset  and  the  soft  moon.  Took  tea  ;  watched  Liverpool,  or  where  it 
was,  till  the  lights  could  no  more  be  seen. 

8th. — After  coming  on  deck  I  introduced  myself  to  Judge  Hali- 
burton,  alias  Sam  Slick,  and  had  some  pleasant  conversation  with 
him.  I  chiefly  noted  in  him  the  strong  expression  of  humor  in  his 
countenance  when  he  smiles  ;  there  is  fun  in  every  wrinkle. 

Halifax,  September  18th.  —  Rose  before  sunrise  and  saw  a  glimpse 
of  land  through  the  haze.  Dressed,  and  went  on  deck  as  we  entered 
the  harbor  of  Halifax,  which,  with  its  rocky  hills  on  either  side,  its 
smooth  green  island  in  the  centre  of  the  bay,  and  the  lively-looking 
town  before  us  with  its  citadel,  its  ships  and  wharves  crowded  with 
eager  spectators,  looked  as  in  lively  welcome  to  us.  Our  deck  was 
equally  alive  with  -land  costumes,  gay  with  faces  I  had  not  seen  during 
the  voyage.  The  bustle  of  welcome  and  farewell  was  amusing  and 
exciting.  I  went  with  one  of  our  ship's  company  into  the  town,  of 
streets  at  right  angles,  of  wooden  houses,  reminding  one'  of  the  half 
active  sort  of  character  that  a  Scotch  eastern  town  seems  to  have. 
The  shops  seemed  good,  as  I  looked  into  them,  and  it  appeared  quite  a 
place  that  a  man  might  live  in.  Before  leaving  the  ship  I  had  a  few 
words  of  farewell  with  Mr.  Ilaliburton,  and  exchanged  cards  with 
him.  He  breakfasted  with  us  in  one  great  party  of  about  thirty  from 
the  ship,  at  the  hotel,  and  certainly  novrr  was  greater  justice  done  to 
a  breakfast.  The  air,  and  the  sense  of  being  on  land  quite  sent  my 
spirits  in  an  unusual  flow  back  to  me.  After  taking  leave  of  Mr. 
Ilaliburton,  he  came  back  to  introduce  Mr.  Webster  of  the  Rifles  to 
me,  who  with  great  courtesy  asked  how  he  could  be  of  use  to  me, 
etc. ;  if  I  would  breakfast  at  the  barracks,  etc.  I  declined,  but  ao 


1843.  BOSTON— NEW  YORK.  511 

cepted  the  offer  of  his  escort,  and  walked  with  him  up  to  the  barracks 
and  to  the  citadel,  from  whence  the  view  of  the  harbor,  its  islands, 
forts,  shipping,  the  lake  on  the  opposite  side,  part  of  the  inner  harbor, 
etc.,  all  come  within  the  eye.  It  is  a  beautiful  scene,  laid  out  as  in  a 
map  before  one.  He  returned  with  me  to  the  ship,  and  then  I  took 
leave  of  him. 

Boston,  September  20th.  —  The  mate  summoned  me  at  early  twilight 
with  the  news  that  we  should  soon  approach  the  Boston  Harbor  Light. 
I  had  slept  very  little  ;  there  were  noises  all  night  on  deck,  from  the 
time  of  stopping  to  take  in  the  pilot,  that  disturbed  me  incessantly.  I 
left  my  bed  with  little  reluctance  to  see  in  the  cold  gray  light  the  land 
before  me  stretching  away  to  the  right,  with  the  light-house  a-head.  It 
was  land,  and  the  eye  strained  to  it  and  rested  on  it  as  on  security  and 
comfort.  I  desired  to  be  called  when  we  neared  the  Narrows,  and  at- 
tended to  my  luggage  until  time  to  see  our  entry  into  this  beautiful 
harbor.  It  must  be  a  very  unsightly  haven  that  would  not  have 
beauty  for  eyes  that  have  looked  on  sea  and  sky  for  nine  or  ten  days, 
but  the  islands  so  various  in  form,  the  opening  again  of  the  view  of 
the  sea  through  the  Northern  Channel  after  passing  the  narrow  en- 
trance, the  forts,  the  houses  that  spot  the  rising  shores,  and  the  seem- 
ingly rich  and  thriving  villages  that  spread  far  along  the  circling 
shores  on  either  side  of  the  receding  land,  with  the  clustered  masses 
of  the  city's  buildings  in  the  central  distance,  surrounded  by  the  dome 
of  the  State  House  and  the  Obelisk  of  Bunker's  Hill :  all  these  lit  up 
and  illumined  by  a  most  gorgeous  sunrise  that  fretted  with  golden  fire 
one  half  of  the  heavens,  and  was  reflected  in  the  dancing  waves 
through  which  we  made  rapid  way,  all  these  effects  of  form  and  color 
gave  a  beauty  and  splendor  to  the  scene  that  required  not  any  interest 
unborrowed  from  the  eye  to  awaken  delight  and  enjoyment.  A  small 
shoal  of  porpoises  came  leaping  and  bounding  along  in  our  course,  and 
the  vessels  glided  by  or  were  passed  by  us,  as  the  scene  grew  upon  our 
sight  in  our  rapid  advance.  The  thought  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  the 
fervent,  stern,  resolute  and  trusting  men,  who,  in  their  faith  in  God, 
became  the  authors  of  all  the  glorious  and  happy  life  I  saw  about  me, 
was  a  touching  recollection  :  the  privations  and  sufferings  of  those 
men  are  not  held  in  account  by  us. 

New  York,  September  25th. — Went  to  the  theater,  and  acted  Mac- 
beth. What  shall  I  say  ?  With  every  disposition  to  throw  myself 
into  the  character  as  I  had  never  so  completely  done  before,  I  was,  as 
it  were,  beaten  back  by  the  heat,  and  I  should  certainly  have  sunk 
under  it,  if  I  had  not  goaded  myself  repeatedly  to  work  out  my 
thoughts  and  vindicate  my  reputation.  The  audience  did  not  applaud 
very  much,  but  really  it  would  have  been  too  much  to  expect  succes- 
sive rounds  of  applause  under  such  an  atmosphere.  My  reception  was 
most  enthusiastic,  and  very  loudly  cheered  and  with  repeated  cheers. 
I  am  glad  I  have  brought  Mr.  Ryder.  I  was  loudly  called  for  and 
very  fervently  received ;  the  audience  expected  a  speech,  but  I  bowed 
under  jjreat  weakness. 


512  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1843 

27th.  —  Hamlet. 

29th.  —  Richelieu. 

October  2d.  —  Acted  Macbeth  tolerably  well :  took  pains,  but  was, 
I  think,  unequal.  Called  for  and  well  received.  David  Golden  came 
into  my  room.  On  this  very  day,  seventeen  years  ago,  Monday,  Oc- 
tober 2d,  1826,  I  opened  in  New  York  in  the  character  of  Virginius. 

3d.  —  Dined  with  Forrest ;  met  a  very  large  party,  too  large  for 
comfort,  but  it  was  most  kindly  intended.  Bryant,  with  whom  I  talked 
very  little ;  Halleck,  and  Inman  the  artist,  were  of  the  party.  Our 
day  was  very  cheerful ;  I  like  all  I  see  of  Forrest  very  much.  He 
appears  a  clear-headed,  honest,  kind  man  ;  what  can  be  better  ? 

4th.  —  Acted  Werner  anxiously  and  partially  with  effect.  The 
audience  were  interested,  but  are  very  sparing  of  applause.  Was 
called  for  and  well  received.  David  Golden  came  into  my  room.  At 
last  I  have  got  into  my  promised  bedroom.  My  heart  thanked  God 
for  the  comfortable  tidings  brought  from  home. 

5th.  —  Richelieu. 

6th.  —  Hamlet. 

9th.  —  Macbeth. 

10th.  —  Went  to  the  theater  and  rehearsed  Virginius.  From  what 
I  can  learn  the  audiences  of  the  United  States  have  been  accustomed 
to  exaggeration  in  all  its  forms,  and  have  applauded  what  has  been 
most  extravagant ;  it  is  not  therefore  surprising,  that  they  should  be- 
stow such  little  applause  on  me,  not  having  their  accustomed  cues. 

llth.  —  Virginius. 

12th.  —  Werner. 

13th.  —  "  Lady  of  Lyons."    . 

loth.  —  Longfellow  called  for  me,  and  we  went  to  dine  with  Mrs. 
L.  and  D.  Golden,  at  the  ladies'  ordinary.  Above  130  sat  down.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  N.  P.  Willis  next  to  Longfellow.  He  (N.  P.  W.)  wished 
to  be  very  civil  to  me.  I  was  much  amused.  I  looked  for  the  eaters 
with  knives,  but  detected  none. 

IGth.  —  Acted  Hamlet  very  fairly  ;  striving  to  overmaster  my  evil 
tendencies.  I  must  guard  against  unreal  tones,  etc. ;  I  must  practice 
to  be  the  thing,  despite  the  coldness  of  these  audiences.  I  must. 

17th.  —  Richelieu. 

18th.  —  Othello. 

19th.  —  Werner. 

20th.—  Macbeth. 

23d.  —  Acted  Macbeth  equal,  if  not  superior,  as  a  whole,  to  any 
performance  I  have  ever  given  of  the  character.  I  should  say  it  was 
a  noble  piece  of  art.  Called  for  warmly,  and  warmly  received. 

The  Miss  Cushman  who  acted  Lady  Macbeth  interested  me  much. 
She  has  to  learn  her  art,  but  she  showed  mind  and  sympathy  with  me : 
a  novelty  so  refreshing  to  me  on  the  stage. 

24th.  —  Hamlet,  Werner. 

25th.  —  Hamlet. 

28th.  —  Acted  Cardinal  Richelieu  in  such  a  manner  as  evidently  to 
produce  a  great  effect  on  the  audience. 


1843.  DISTINGUISHED  AMERICANS.  513 

30th.  —  In  my  performance  of  Hamlet  I  suffered  a  little  from  what 
Scott  has  described  as  the  cause  of  Campbell's  backwardness  —  I  was, 
if  not  frightened,  certainly  flurried,  at  the  shadow  of  my  own  reputa- 
tion ;  the  impression  of  the  previous  evening  had  been  so  strong,  I 
feared  to  disappoint  expectation.  It  was,  however,  not  a  bad  perform- 
ance. The  soliloquy  ending  the  second  act  was  very  natural,  passionate, 
and  good.  That  on  life  and  death  was  reality  —  as  my  French  friends 
term  it,  inspiration.  I  never  before  approached  the  real  self-commun- 
ing which  possessed  me  during  its  delivery.  The  audience  fully  appre- 
ciated, for  they  applauded  until  I  actually  stopped  them. 

November  1st.  —  Acted  Othello  in  a  very  grand  and  impassioned 
manner,  never  better.  The  audience  I  thought  cold  at  first,  but  I 
would  not  give  way  to  the  influence ;  I  sustained  the  character  from 
the  first  to  the  last.  Called  for  and  very  warmly  greeted. 

2d.  —  Richelieu. 

3d.  —  Virginius. 

4th.  —  Werner.  .  . 

6^.  —  Macbeth. 

1th.  —  la  go. 

8th.  —  Benedict. 

Boston,  November  13th.  —  Looked  over  Macbeth,  being  most  anxious 
about  my  performance.  Acted  Macbeth  —  how,  I  really  cannot  say. 
Note  from  Sumner. 

14th.  —  Dined  with  Longfellow;  everything  very  elegant.  Mrs. 
L-is  a  very  agreeable  woman.  Felton,  Sumner,  and  Hillard  dined 
with  us. 

15th.  —  Hamlet. 

1 Qth.  —  Waldo  Emerson  called,  and  sat  with  me  a  short  time,  ex- 
pressing his  wish  to  make  me  acquainted  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ward, 
whom  he  extolled  greatly.  I  liked  him  very,  very  much  —  the  sim- 
plicity and  kindness  of  his  manner  charmed  me.  Mr.  Abbott  Law- 
rence called  and  sat  with  me  some  time.  I  liked  him  extremely  ;  he 
invited  me. 

17th. —  Received  a  note  from  Colley  Grattan,  praying  me  to  come 
to  him  to  meet  General  Bertrand  and  Webster.  I  thought  he  made  a 
point  of  it,  and  I  went.  Was  introduced  to  Bertrand  ;  certainly,  from 
appearance,  one  who  could  only  obtain  distinction  by  the  greatness  of 
another  —  a  "growing  feather  plucked  from  Caesar's  wing,"  may  be 
shown  as  of  the  eagle  kind,  but  it  is  only  the  fidelity  of  an  Eros  to  an 
Antony  that  has  given  reputation  to  the  kind-hearted  little  General. 
He  talked  very  pleasantly  —  asked  me  if  I  had  acted  at  Paris ;  I  told 
him  I  had,  and  reminded  him  of  the  period,  which  he  recollected  as- 
sociated with  "  Virginius."  We  talked  of  Talma,  and  of  the  Emperor's 
partiality  to  him.  I  asked  him  if  it  was  true  that  they  were  friends 
previous  to  Napoleon's  assuming  the  crown  —  he  said,  doubtingly, 
"  No,  it  was  not  likely."  He  told  me  in  reply  to  my  inquiries,  that 
Napoleon  liked  tragedy  very  much,  but  comedy  little.  That  he  judged 
well,  was  a  good  critic ;  described  his  home  of  retirement,  the  seat  of 
33 


514  HAGUE ADY'S  DIARIES.  1843. 

small  social  parties  in  which  he  indulged  and  which  he  preferred ;  that 
at  one  of  these,  a  tragedy  on  Lady  Jane  Grey  was  read  by  Talma ; 
that  Napoleon  appeared  asleep  during  the  reading,  but  that  he  gave  a 
clear  and  critical  opinion  upon  its  merits  ;  that  if  it  had  developed  any 
%  truths  as  to  the  political  state  of  P^ngland,  the  condition  of -parties,  the 
influence  of  religion,  or  any  great  effect,  it  might  have  been  something ; 
but  the  mere  story  of  Lady  Jane  Grey  —  Bah  !  The  play  was  intro- 
duced some  time  after,  but  not  with  success. 

Was  introduced  to  Cinti  Damereau,  to  Mrs.  Otis,  who  talked  French 
to  me  for  some  time,  to  Bancroft,  who  seemed  very  glad  to  see  me,  as 
I  was  to  meet  him.  Returning  home  I  found  a  basket  of  flowers,  and 
a  note  —  in  rapture  at  Richelieu  —  from  Miss  Otis. 

1 8th.  —  Called  on  W.  Prescott ;  saw  the  old  Judge,  who  just  came 
in,  shook  hands  with  us,  and  passed  on  like  an  apparition  through  the 
room.  Sat  some  time  with  W.  Prescott  and  his  wife,  both  of  whom 
I  liked  very  much. 

Dined  with  Felton,  meeting  C.  Sumner's  brother,  Jared  Sparks, 
Dr.  Beck,  Felton's  brother,  and  Longfellow.  Mr.  Ware  and  his  son 
came  in  after  dinner. 

20th.  —  Othello. 

21st.  —  Dined  with  Grattan  ;  met  the  Mayor,  Brimner,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Otis,  Abbott  Lawrence,  Commodore  Kennequha,  Mr.  Gore,  and 
Mr.  Sears.  Passed  a  cheerful  afternoon.  Went  to  Lawrence's  ex- 
pecting a  small  party,  as  "  the  death  of  one  of  his  kindred  prevented  him 
from  seeing  company  ;  "  found  his  rooms  full ;  was  introduced  to  hefds. 
Saw  Ticknor,  Gray,  Prescott,  Curtis,  Bancroft,  Sears,  Sumner,  and 
most  I  knew  ;  was  introduced  to  Mrs.  Bancroft  —  one  of  the  sweetest 
and  prettiest  women  I  ever  saw  —  to  Ward,  Miss  Ward.  Mrs.  Chase, 
very  agreeable.  Mr.  Webster,  Mrs.  Webster,  Miss  Webster ;  in  fact, 
it  is  impossible  to  recollect  the  very  many.  All  were  very  agree- 
able ;  would  have  been  more  so  if  I  had  been  a  little  more  a  free 
agent,  but  I  was  a  lion,  and  in  good  earnest.  I  talked  with  a  great 
many  people ;  in  fact,  was  not  one  moment  unoccupied,  for  I  was 
taken  away  from  one  to  the  other,  as  if  there  was  to  be  a  guard 
against  any  preference.  I  liked  almost  all  the  people  I  saw.  Very 
many  spoke  to  me  of  the  Readings,  earnestly  and  with  some  per- 
suasive arguments.  Grattan  came  to  me  from  a  body  to  ask  me.  It 
makes  it  a  subject  to  think  upon. 

22d.  —  Hamlet. 

23d,  —  Richelieu. 

24th.  —  Macbeth. 

26th.  —  C.  Sumner  dined  with  me,  and  we  went  together  to  Cam- 
bridge. Called  on  Longfellow,  and  sat  some  time  with  him  and  Mrs. 
L.  Went  to  Judge  Story's ;  passed  a  most  agreeable  evening  there  ; 
met  Felton,  Jared  Sparks,  Professors  Beck  and  Williams,  Mrs.  and 
Miss  Story,  Mr.  William  Story  and  his  wife,  Judge  Foy,  etc.  A  most 
lively  and  pleasant  evening. 

27th. —  Acted  Virginius  in  a  very  superior  manner.      Went  with 


1843.  NEW  YORK— BOSTON— BALTIMORE.  515 

Sumner  and  Felton  to  the  Oyster  Saloon  Concert  Hall,  where  Hillard 
joined  us.  Supped  on  broiled  oysters,  with  some  of  the  ingenious 
and  beautifully  composed  —  I  should  say  constructed  —  drinks  that 
are  conspicuous  in  this  country.  We  had  a  very  agreeable  evening  — 
at  least,  I  had. 

28th.  —  Werner. 

29/7*.  —  Quite  worn  down  by  fatigue  and  want  of  sleep.  Not 
well ;  rose  late,  and  spoke  to  Ryder  about  attending  the  rehearsal  for 
me.  What  should  I  have  done  without  him  ?  I  could  not  have  got 
through. 

30th.  —  Boston  to  New  York. 

New  York,  December  Qth.  —  "  Bridal." 

7th.  —  Werner. 

8th.  —  Benedick. 

9th.  —  Dined  with  Griffin ;  met  Prescott,  Hall,  J.  Hamilton,  Bar- 
clay, Pry  or,  Dr.  Francis,  Girard,  etc.  An  American  dinner :  terra- 
pin soup,  bass-fish,  bear,  wild  turkey,  canvas-back  duck,  roasted  Oys- 
ters, etc.  Delicious  wines  ;  a  very  agreeable  day.. 

llth. — A  long  letter  from  Mr.  Marshall,  the  Philadelphia  man- 
ager, proposing  to  me,  and  evidently  thinking  he  had  hit  upon  a  most 
brilliant  device :  to  act  at  Philadelphia  in  the  spring  "  on  alternate 
nights  the  same  plays  with  Mr.  Forrest."  Monday,  Hamlet,  Mr. 
Macready  ;  Tuesday,  Hamlet,  Mr.  Forrest ;  Wednesday,  Othello,  Mr. 
Macready;  Thursday,  Othello,  Mr.  Forrest;  etc.  I  answered  him, 
of  course  declining. 

12th.  —  Werner. 

13th.  —  Richelieu. 

14^.— "Bridal." 

15th.  —  Marino  Faliero. 

Boston,  December  18th.  —  Werner. 

20th.—  "Bridal." 

21st.  —  Hamlet. 

23d.  —  "Bridal." 

Baltimore,  December  2oth.  —  Macbeth. 

2Qth. — Werner. 

21th.  —  Richelieu. 

28th.  —  Hamlet. 

2Wi.  —  Richelieu. 

[NOTE.  —  (See  p.  507).  "  The  Petition  of  William  Charles  Macready,  of  Clar- 
ence Terrace,  Regent's  Park  in  the  county  of  Middlesex,  an  Actor  of  Plays, 

"  Humbly  sheweth, 

"  That  your  Petitioner  has,  from  early  youth,  devoted  his  time  to  the  study  and 
representation  of  the  plays  of  Shakespeare  and  other  dramatic  poets.  That,  in 
the  exercise  of  his  profession  as  an  actor,  your  Petitioner  has  had  constant  oppor- 
tunities of  observing  the  practical  effect  and  operation  of  the  patents  granted  to 
the  Theaters,  Drury  Lane  and  Coven  t  Garden,  of  both  which  theaters  he  has  also 
been  at  different  times  the  sole  lessee  and  manager. 

"  That  the  rights  and  duties  implied  in  those  patents,  granted  for  the  exclusive 
performance  of  plays,  were  for  the  public  benefit  and  the  advancement  of  dramatic 


516  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1843. 

literature,  delegated  in  the  first  instance  to  men  selected  on  account  of  their  pecul- 
iar qualification  for  the  trust,  their  theatrical  talent  and  experience,  their  profi- 
ciency and  interest  in  their  art ;  to  wit,  Sir  William  Davenant,  the  dramatic  author, 
Booth,  Wilkes,  Cihber,  Doggett,  and  other  actors  of  repute.  That  these  patents 
or  trusts  have  been  permitted,  contrary  to  their  import  and  intent,  to  fall  into,  or 
be  transferred  to,  the  charge  of  persons  wholly  inexperienced  in  theatrical  affairs, 
generally  unacquainted  with  dramatic  literature,  and  confessedly  ignorant  of  all 
appertaining  to  the  dramatic  art.  That  these  persons  have,  in  consequence,  used 
their  trust  as  a  mere  piece  of  property,  letting  it  out  to  any  adventurer  who  would 
hire  it,  without  reference  to  the  character  or  capacity  of  the  individual,  or  to  any 
other  consideration  than  the  price  to  be  obtained.  That,  by  these  means,  all 
kinds  of  degrading  exhibitions,  tending  not  to  humanize  and  refine,  but  to  brutal- 
ize and  corrupt,  the  public  mind,  have  been  introduced  upon  the  patent  stage ; 
with  which  practices  of  licentiousness  and  habits  of  debauchery,  unknown  at 
places  of  theatrical  entertainment  in  any  other  civilized  country,  have  also,  by  the 
same  system,  been  connected  as  matters  of  profit  and  gain. 

"  That  such  misapplication  of  these  patents  is  an  abuse  of  an  important  public 
trust,  and  a  national  scandal;  and  your  Petitioner  is  prepared  to  prove  that  the 
persons  in  whom  these  exclusive  privileges  arc  now  vested  are,  for  these  reasons 
unworthy  to  possess  them,  —  supposing  your  honorable  House  should  be  of  opin- 
ion that  any  stronger  proof  of  their  unworthiness  and  incapacity  is  needed  than 
the  condition  to  which  they  have  reduced  the  two  patent  theaters.  That  such  con- 
dition has  been  caused  by  their  own  misconduct,  and  is  not  attributable  to  the  pul>- 
lic  disregard  of  dramatic  entertainments,  is  fully  shown,  as  your  Petitioner  sub- 
mits, by  the  history  of  his  own  connection  with  those  establishments,  in  capacity 
of  lessee  and  manager  ;  for,  in  the  year  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  thirty- 
>fven,  when,  through  the  mismanagement  of  the  patentees  and  their  tenants,  the 
Coven t  Garden  Theater  was  sunk  to  the  lowest  point  of  public  contempt,  your 
Petitioner  undertook  its  direction,  and  in  two  seasons  it  not  only  attained  a  high 
character  for  its  dramatic  representations  and  its  regulations  in  regard  to  decency 
and  good  order,  but  became  a  place  of  great  public  resort.  In  like  manner,  in 
one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  forty-one,  your  Petitioner  undertook  the  manage- 
ment of  Drury  Lane  Theater,  when  it  was  in  a  similar  state  of  degradation,  and 
in  two  years  he  succeeded  in  rendering  that  establishment  also  a  place  of  general 
and  respectable  resort,  and  an  instrument  of  public  instruction,  as  presenting  the 
highest  class  of  theatrical  representations.  And  your  Petitioner  submits  that  the 
absurdity  of  these  monopolies  is  further  established  by  reference  to  the  position  of 
Drury  Lane  Theater,  when  he  became  its  lessee,  at  which  time,  with  a  patent  right 
of  preventing  elsewhere  the  performance  of  the  masterpieces  of  Shakespeare  and 
other  great  poets,  it  was  unable  to  present  them  itself,  having  been  specially  re- 
furnished for,  and  exclusively  devoted  to  musical  concerts,  announced  in  a  foreign 
language,  and  chiefly  performed  by  foreign  musicians. 

"  That,  in  his  management  of  both  the  patent  theaters,  as  aforesaid,  your  Peti- 
tioner endeavored,  at  a  great  expense  of  time,  labor,  and  money,  to  make  the  pa- 
tents available  to  the  purposes  for  which  they  were  originally  granted,  and  always 
to  keep  in  view  the  great  aim  and  object  of  the  drama,  and  that  he  always  found 
his  efforts  responded  to  by  the  public  in  general ;  but  that,  being  unable  as  h-srr 
of  either  theater  to  meet  such  demands  of  the  patent-holders,  as  the  great  debts 
and  incumbrances  entailed  upon  them  by  the  before-described  mismanagement  and 
abuse  of  a  public  trust  had  made  necessary,  he  has  been  obliged  to  relinquish  the 
management  of  both ;  and  thus  your  Petitioner  is  brought  to  this  pass,  that 
whereas  those  patent-holders  are  not  able  either  by  themselves  or  their  tenant  to 
maintain  the  national  drama  in  their  theaters,  yet  they  are  armed  by  law  with 
power  to  prevent  your  Petitioner  from  exercising  that  his  art  and  calling  in  any 
other  theater,  and  to  declare  that,  unless  he  live  on  such  terms  as  they  may  pre- 
scribe to  him,  he  shall  not,  by  his  industry  and  the  use  of  such  abilities  as  he  may 
possess,  live  at  all. 

"  Your  Petitioner,  therefore,  humbly  prays  your  honorable  House  to  take  his 
grievance  into  consideration,  and  provide  such  remedy  as  in  your  wisdom  shall 
seem  fit.  WILLIAM  "CHARLES  MACREADY."] 


1844.  CHARLESTON.  517 


1844. 

On  board,  Charleston,  January  1st.  —  "VVoke  at  an  early  hour  in  the 
steamboat,  as,  after  a  tranquil  night  and  rapid  run,  we  were  approach- 
ing the  Charleston  light.  Offered  up  my  prayers  to  God  for  help 
and  sustainment  through  the  year  which  this  day  begins,  and  wish- 
ing to  my  beloved  wife  and  family  a  happy  new  year,  and  many  re- 
newals of  it.  Prayed  for  these  blessings  on  them.  Dressed  and  went 
on  deck.  The  morning  was  most  beautiful,  the  first  gleams  of  sun- 
light just  beginning  to  break  in  upon  the  gray,  as  I  went  upon  the 
upper  deck :  I  watched  the  glory  of  the  sunrise,  and  the  growing  ob- 
jects as  we  neared  the  city,  rejoicing  and  grateful  for  our  safe  ar- 
rival. Came  on  at  once  to  my  hotel,  where  Mr.  Forbes  soon  called  ; 
I  gave  my  opinion,  that  it  would  be  best  to  defer  my  appearance  one 
week. 

2d.  —  One  good,  I  hope,  if  no  more,  will  result  from  my  visit  to 
America  —  it  will  assure  me,  certify  me,  of  what  figures,  face,  the  ap- 
pearance of  others,  all  things  have  failed  sufficiently  to  impress  upon 
me,  viz.,  that  I  am  far  advanced  in  life  —  with  Othello,  "declined  into 
the  vale  of  years."  I  must  endeavor  to  keep  this  before  me  in  my 
words  and  actions,  and  let  them  bear  the  impress  of  my  own  con- 
sciousness :  for,  at  present,  I  am  too  much  the  creature  of  habit  in  al- 
lowing myself  to  be  subject  to  a  retiring  and  deprecatory  style  that 
only  properly  becomes  a  young  man.  I  do  not  feel  old  in  mind,  how- 
ever I  may  perceive  a  diminution  of  my  bodily  strength,  but  I  must 
be  careful  not  to  let  age  overtake  me. 

Called  at  Mr.  Miller's,  bookseller,  to  look  for  Dr.  Irving,  who  had 
been  anxious  to  see  me.  He  met  us  as  we  were  leaving  the  shop,  and 
we  were  introduced.  His  frank,  hearty  greeting  made  me  feel  friends 
with  him  directly  ;  he  was  at  Rugby,  a  junior  boy,  when  I  was  in  the 
sixth  form. 

The  air  was  humid,  but  so  mild  that  my  spirits  felt  its  influence. 
It  was  to  me  an  exhilarating  sight,  which  I  stopped  to  enjoy,  to  see 
various  kinds  of  roses  in  full  bloom  in  a  garden  with  the  bulbous 
plants,  and  the  hollyhocks,  wild  oranges,  etc.,  in  healthy  leaf,  with 
several  tropical  plants. 

3d.  —  Took  a  long  walk  down  Meeting  Street,  along  the  Battery, 
to  top  of  Broad  Street  beyond  the  boundary,  returning  by  King 
Street ;  was  delighted  with  the  warm  sunshiny  day,  the  fresh  air,  the 
foliage  of  the  wild  orange,  the  palmetto,  the  roses  in  bloom,  the  violets, 
the  geraniums,  etc.,  but  was  pained  to  see  the  colored  people  go  out 
of  the  way  and  show  a  deference  to  us  as  to  superior  beings.  The 
white  houses,  with  their  green  verandas  and  gardens,  were  light  and 
lively  to  me,  and  the  frequent  view  of  the  river  afforded  often  a  pict- 
uresque termination  to  the  street. 

4<A. — Irving  called  and  sat  some  time.  He  told  me  he  had  written 
a  notice  of  me  for  Saturday,  which  he  had  finished  with  the  incident 


518  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1844. 

of  the  "  child."  I  told  him  "  it  was  not  true."  lie  was  surprised, 
but  said  "never  mind,  it  will  do  for  our  religious  people,"  and  \\;i> 
earnest  to  use  it.  I  objected  to  it,  that  as  I  never  had  practiced  hum- 
bug, I  should  not  like  now  to  begin.  After  some  demur,  he  relin- 
quished it. 

Gth.  —  Received  a  note,  a  very  kind  one,  from  Dr.  Irving,  telling 
me  that  by  an  inadvertency  the  paragraph  with  the  anecdote  of  "  the 
child  "  had  been  kept  by  the  compositors  in  the  paper,  and  begging 
me  not  to  notice  it.  Now  I  cannot  like  this,  nor  can  I  close  my  lips 
upon  a  falsehood  that  gives  me  consideration  to  which  I  am  not  en- 
titled. I  rehearsed  Hamlet,  taking  pains  with  it. 

Judge  King  called  for  me,  and  asked  me  to  accompany  him  to 
Ogilby's,  where  we  both  were  to  dine.  I  was  much  pleased  to  go 
with  him.  At  Ogilby's  I  met  Pettigrew,  a  lawyer,  very  clever  and 
very  humorous. 

8^.  —  Acted  Hamlet,  I  scarcely  know  how.  I  strove  and  fought 
up  against  what  I  thought  the  immobility  of  the  audience ;  I  would 
not  be  beaten  cravenly,  but  such  a  performance  is  never  satisfactory  — 
at  least  to  the  actor.  When  he  is  contending  with  the  humor  of  his 
audience,  adieu  then  to  all  happy  moments ;  to  all  forgetfulness  of 
self,  to  the  elan  of  enthusiasm.  I  died  game,,  for  I  tried  to  sustain  my- 
self to  the  last.  Called  for. 

19M.  —  Ryder  called  in,  and  gave  me  some  information  respecting 
the  audience  of  last  night,  and  further  that  Vieuxtemps  passed 
through  (I  saw  his  fiddle-case)  this  morning  on  his  way  to  New  Or- 
leans. 

10th.  —  Macbeth. 

llt/i.  —  Richelieu. 

12lh.  —  Dr.  Irving  called  for  me.  We  went  to  the  jail  —  it  is  a 
very  small  building  —  for  both  debtors  and  felons,  who  are,  however, 
apart.  It  was  very  clean.  I  saw  the  negro  crew  of  a  ship  locked  up 
together  until  the  sailing  of  the  vessel,  the  law  of  the  State  not  al- 
lowing them  to  be  at  liberty.  I  saw  some  prisoners  for  minor  of- 
fenses ;  one  had  been  whipped  for  petty  larceny ;  some  negroes  below 
who  were  kept  in  the  premises  of  the  jail  till  they  could  be  sold ! 
Good  God  !  is  this  right  ?  They  are  an  inferior  class  of  man,  but 
still  they  are  man.  They  showed  me  the  condemned  cells ;  one  in 
which  a  murderer  had  spent  his  last  night  last  summer.  The  world 
is  a  riddle  to  me  ;  I  am  not  satisfied  with  this  country  as  it  at  present 
is.  I  think  it  will,  it  must,  work  out  its  own  purification. 

13th.  —  Ogilby  called,  and  confidentially  related  circumstances  of 
great  atrocity  occurring  in  this  State.  An  overseer,  against  his  mas- 
ter's orders,  flogging  a  runaway  ( negro,  tying  him  up  all  night,  getting 
up  in  the  night  to  repeat  the  torture,  and  repeating  it  till  the  wretched 
creature  died  under  the  lash.  ;The  felon  was  acquitted.  A  person 
supposed  by  another  to  trench  upon  ground  which  he  claimed,  was,  in 
the  midst  of  his  own  laborers,  shot  dead  by  the  villain  in  open  day ; 
the  felon  was  acquitted  !  These  are  heart-sickening  narratives. 


1844.  "MY  NEIGHBORS."  519 

Judge  King  called  for  me  and  took  me  to  Chancellor  Uunkin's, 
where  the  judges  of  the  State  met  to  dine.  I  was  introduced  to  all. 
Chivers  I  knew,  Chancellor  Harper,  Judge  Butler ;  Johnson  I  liked 
best  —  about  eighteen  or  twenty  dined;  here  was  no  want  of  charac- 
ter or  manner,  nor  of  any  needful  gravity  or  grace  befitting  a  meeting 
of  republican  judges. 

I  could  not  help  feeling  that  these  judges  of  a  country  asserting 
itself  free  were  waited  on  by  slaves  ! 

16th. — Another  day  of  rain,  rain,  rain.  "The  heavens  do  frown 
upon  me  for  some  ill ; "  but  I  do  not  feel  as  if  through  my  life  they 
would  ever  smile  again.  The  glimpse  of  bright  hope  and  comfort 
which  I  received  in  the  commencement  of  my  career  in  this  country  is 
now  overgloomed,  and  I  have  little  prospect  onward  but  of  hard  labor 
and  indifferent  payment.  I  am  not  young  enough  to  live  on  hope, 
for  the  period  over  which  my  hope  has  to  extend  is  very  short.  I  try 
to  cheer  and  fortify  myself,  but  I  fear  it  is  a  lost  game.  At  all  events 
I  begin  to  feel  very,  very  weary  of  it.  I  have  no  pleasure  here  but  in 
thinking  I  am  making  means  for  my  family,  arid  when  that  is  scanted 
I  am  "  poor  indeed."  Looked  at  the  paper.  Rehearsed  Claude  Mel- 
notte. 

Acted  Claude  Melnotte  in  a  fractional  sort  of  manner.  Cut  up 
repeatedly  by  the  bad  taste,  etc.,  of  the  actors. 

17th.  —  Continued  the  reading  of  "  My  Neighbors  ; "  was  deeply 
affected  by  much  of  it,  and  greatly  interested  with  all.  Thought  of 
home  and  dearest  Catherine  ;  kissed  her  dear  picture  and  blessed  her 
and  all.  The  book  did  me  good,  if  only  in  the  desire  to  do  right,  and 
the  resolution  to  try  to  do  it.  I  was  much  impressed  by  many  pain- 
ful truths,  but  valuable  as  all  truth  must  be,  I  felt  how  justly  merited 
by  myself  was  the  scourge  contained  in  this  passage  :  "  Bad  humor, 
the  demon  with  which  little  souls  often  tyrannize  over  those  about 
them."  I  suffer  —  oh,  what  anguish  and  what  shame  !  —  from  this 
vice  of  temper.  I  had  once  made  progress  in  improving,  but  care  and 
too  much  commerce  with  the  world  has  caused  me  to  relapse  to  morose- 
ness  and  impatience.  May  God  forgive  me. 

18tk.  —  Werner. 

13th. —  Ryder  came  to  speak  on  business.  Ran  through  the  re- 
hearsal of  "  Hamlet."  The  day  was  really  beautiful,  the  air  quite 
delightful,  delicious,  at  once  inspiriting  and  mild.  Both  the  windows 
of  my  sitting-room  were  wide  open  ;  I  do  not  know  when  I  have  felt 
more  pleasure  from  the  influence  of  atmosphere.  Called  on  Irving 
and  walked  with  him  to  slave-market,  where  no  business  was  doing. 

Could  not  please  myself  in  the  performance  of  Hamlet  with  all  the 
pains  I  could  take.  Ryder,  as  the  Ghost,  got  upon  the  trap  and  could 
just  get  out  the  words  "  pale  his  ineffectual  fire."  When  he  had  fin- 
ished, the  trap  ran  down  and  he  disappeared,  to  his  own  consternation 
as  much  as  mine.  Was  called  for  and  got  very  well  through  an  ad- 
dress of  about  half  a  dozen  lines.  If  I  do  not  keep  watch  upon  my- 
self I  shall  lose  my  art  and  power.  Irving,  Pringle,  and  Ogilby  came 


520  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1844. 

into  my  room  and  seemed  very  sorry  to  part  with  me  ;  there  is  quite 
an  excitement  about  the  theater ;  the  house  to-night  overflowed. 

20M.  —  Began  the  day  with  packing  my  private  wardrobe.  Went 
on  board  the  small  boat  that  was  crowded  with  the  players  and  their 
luggage,  even  to  the  gong  and,  I  think,  the  big  drum.  I  was  inter- 
ested by  the  view  of  the  bay  and  the  vessel  alongside  of  us  with  the 
negro  women  grinding  off  the  rice  husks,  and  loading  the  hold,  by 
means  of  hand  mills.  The  morning  was  thick  as  if  from  heat,  but  the 
water  was  smooth  as  glass,  and  the  passage  out  of  the  harbor  was  full 
of  interest  to  me.  Previous  to  going  on  board  had  received  a  present 
of  six  bottles  of  Madeira  for  my  voyage  from  Mr.  Pringle. 

Was  amused  on  my  way  to  the  vessel  by  the  observation  of  a  sort 
of  conducteur,  that  I  had  a  "  very  clever  house  last  night."  Ryder 
told  me  that  the  excitement  after  the  play  was  something  quite  ex- 
traordinary, the  southern  blood  seemed  to  have  been  excited  to  fever 
pitch ;  it  has  been  an  unusual  enthusiasm. 

One  passenger,  a  planter,  talked  to  me  of  his  views,  his  desire  to 
mix  in  political  life,  his  treatment  of  his  negroes,  and  his  account  of  his 
resenting  the  contumacy  of  one  and  afterwards  whipping  him,  giving 
him  300  lashes.  I  thought  to  myself  I  would  not  have  held  property 
on  such  a  tenure.  I  expressed  to  him,  not  offensively,  my  objection 
to  the  system.  He  explained  to  me  the  partial,  and  of  course  unjust, 
operation  of  the  tariff  as  affecting  the  interests  of  North  and  South, 
and  the  case  of  the  Southern  States  is  hard.  It  grew  dark  after  we 
passed  the  light-houses,  and  the  merchant  ships  lying  at  anchor  before 
the  river's  mouth.  There  were  burning  woods  in  different  parts  along 
the  banks,  and  we  went  on  our  dark  way  between  narrow  banks  till 
we  reached  the  window  lights  of  Savannah. 

Costas  met  me  on  the  boat ;  he  accompanied  me  to  the  Pulaski 
House,  the  landlord,  Captain  Wiltberger  (I  had  a  true  instinct  at  the 
name),  was  standing  at  the  door.  I  was  introduced,  of  course  shook 
hands,  and  a  stiff-necked  old  piece  of  fat  importance  I  found  him  ;  he 
could  not  give  me  my  meals  in  my  room,  then  I  could  not  stay,  then 
he  led  to  several  rooms,  all  indifferent,  and  I  finally  took  a  double- 
bedded  room. 

Savannah,  January  22d.  —  Rested.  Acted  Hamlet  pretty  well ; 
these  are  not  theaters  for  Shakespeare's  plays  !  Walked  home  in  dark- 
ness, not  visible  ;  quite  a  journey  of  difficulty  through  deep  sand,  and 
threading  a  way  through  posts,  etc.  Costas  came  and  spoke  to  me. 

23d.—  Macbeth. 

2-ith.  —  My  spirits  were  very  much  depressed.  I  was  not  quite  well, 
and  suffering  from  the  exertion  and  the  temperature  of  last  night. 
Spoke  with  Mr.  Ryder.  The  treasurer  called  and  paid  me.  The  day 
was  wretched  ;  a  deluge  was  descending  the  entire  morning  :  densissi- 
mus  imber !  I  could  not  go  out ;  looked  at  the  papers,  and  began  a 
letter,  which  occupied  me  all  day,  to  my  dear  Lydia  Bucknill. 

Rested  a  short  time.     Acted  Cardinal  Richelieu  very  fairly. 

2oth.  —  Packed  up  as  far  as  I  could  for  my  journey  to  New  Orleans. 


1844.  A  DUEL  — MOBILE.  521 

Walked  down  below  the  bluff,  and  saw  the  places  of  business,  etc. ;  ad- 
mired the  novel  appearance  of  the  street,  upon  the  face  of  the  bluff, 
planted  as  it  is  with  trees  and  looking  over  an  extent  of  low  land,  river, 
and  sea.  Was  accosted  by  a  rough  person,  who  gave  his  name  Nichols, 
whom  I  heard  say  —  to  the  observation  that  "  Crowds  were  hurrying 
down  below  "  —  "  They  need  not  be  in  such  a  hurry  ;  the  duel  is  not 
to  be  till  twelve."  I  turned  round  and  looked  with  amazement  in  his 
face.  "  How  do  you  do,  sir  ?  "  he  answered  to  my  surprised  and  shocked 
gaze.  "  Did  you  say  a  duel  was  to  be  fought  ?  "  "  Oh,  yes  ;  just  over 
the  water,  but  not  before  twelve."  "  And  can  such  a  thing  be  publicly 
known,  and  no  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  legal  authorities  to  inter- 
fere ?"  "O  Lord,  no,  they.dursn't;  they've  too  many  friends  about 
them  for  any  number  of  officers  that  could  be  got  together  to  have  any 
chance  with  them."  "And  are  the  crowds  going  down  to  see  them 
fight  ?  "  "  No  ;  they  go  to  wait  for  the  news  —  it 's  across  the  river 
they  fight."  "  Do  they  fight  with  pistols  ?  "  "I  don't  know  ;  either 
pistols  or  rifles  —  but  they  generally  fight  with  rifles  in  this  part  of  the 
country."  "  Um  !  "  "  They  are  two  gentlemen  of  the  bar  here.  It 
was  a  quarrel  in  court :  one  said,  '  the  lie  was  stamped  in  the  other's 
face,'  so  there  was  a  challenge.  I  suppose  you  don't  do  such  a  thing 
as  take  a  glass  of  wine  in  the  morning  ?  "  "  Oh,  no,  never."  "  Ah, 
well,  it 's  our  way  ;  just  come  in  and  see  the  reading-room ;  it 's  the 
best  room  in  all  the  South  ;  come,  it 's  just  here."  I  complied  with 
the  importunity  of  my  new  acquaintance,  who  informed  me  all  about 
himself,  but  my  stomach  felt  sick  with  horror  at  the  cold-blooded  prep- 
aration for  murder  with  which  he  acquainted  me. 

Macon,  January  26th.  —  On  going  into  the  hall  of  the  hotel  about 
five  o'clock  met  a  Bostonian  waiting  for  the  omnibus ;  we  all  went  to 
the  depot,  where,  in  the  open  air,  we  had  to  pay  in  at  a  window,  on  a 
very  dark  cold  morning,  our  fares  —  my  amount,  $39.  I  got  on  the 
car,  but  stopped  on  entering  to  look  at  a  crowd  of  human  beings,  mostly 
wrapped  in  blankets,  standing  together  near.  A  fellow  on  the  oppo- 
site box,  for  it  was  of  a  very  inferior  grade  even  to  the  wretched  cars 
provided  for  white  travelers,  called  out,  "Let  the  boys  andVomen 
come  first."  They  went  one  by  one  —  a  long  and  miserable  train  — 
the  men  entering  last.  These  were  slaves  who  had  been  bought  on 
speculation  and  were  being  conveyed  up  the  coast  to  be  put  up  for  sale 
in  about  a  fortnight.  I  looked  in  occasionally  to  their  box,  and  there 
they  were  in  double  rows ;  food  was  served  out  to  them,  and  I  saw  a 
woman  cut  off  a  portion  of  the  meat  given  to  her,  and  with  an  expres- 
sion of  the  strongest  disgust  throw  it  away.  Mr.  Ryder  asked,  it 
seems,  one  of  the  men  where  he  was  going,  his  answer  was,  "  Oh,  God 
knows,  sir !  "  I  cannot  reconcile  this  outrage  on  every  law  of  right ; 
it  is  damnable.  Our  road  lay  through  one  vast  stretch  of  pine-barren, 
occasionally  clearings,  greater  or  less,  swamps,  large  pools  of  water 
stretching  to  great  extent  through  the  woods,  beautiful  foliage  often  in- 
termingling with  the  stems  of  the  tall  pines,  that  presented  every  state 
of  the  tree  from  early  growth  to  decay  and  rottenness  —  many  half 


522  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1844. 

burned,  many  taken  by  their  tops  by  whirlwind,  many  felled,  uprooted, 
others  propped  or  falling,  reminding  one  of  a  scene  of  carnage  after  a 
battle.  I  slept  some  part  of  the  way,  but  occupied  myself  chiefly  with 
reading  Brougham's  remarks  on  the  French  Revolution,  etc.  We  did 
not  reach  Macon  till  nearly  ten  o'clock,  when  we  found  a  large  inn, 
with  a  very  respectable  and  civil  landlord.  But  it  is  curious  what  im- 
portant persons  these  landlords  generally  are  :  they  receive  you  much 
more  like  hosts  that  are  going  to  give  you  shelter  and  entertainment 
than  as  innkeepers  who  are  served  and  obliged  by  the  preference  of 
your  custom.  But  this  man  was  an  exception.  I  got  a  bedroom  with 
a  comfortable  bed,  a  chair,  table,  glass,  and  what  made  amends  for 
many  deficiencies,  a  capital  wood  fire.  After  a  sorry  supper  I  was  very 
glad  to  get  early  to  bed. 

An  Irishman  named was  very  anxious  that  I  should  go  to  the 

bar  (so  he  told  Mr.  Ryder)  as  there  were  many  gentlemen  there  anx- 
ious to  know  me.  R.  told  him  I  was  tired  and,  he  thought,  gone  to 
bed,  on  which  the  Irishman  took  Ryder  and  introduced  him. 

27th.  —  Rose  early.   Thompson  brought  me  a  letter  from  a  Mr. 

to  the  stage-coach  agent  at  Griffin,  which  I  felt  as  a  great  civility :  it 
requested  attention  from  Mr.  Jones,  "  for  Mr.  Macready  and  suite," 
which  amused  me  not  a  little.  This  was  a  day  of  western  travel.  We 
were  at  least  an  hour  behind  onr  time  of  starting,  and  the  passengers 
actually  crowded  the  ^carriage  ;  the  dirty  and  ragged  neighborhood 
that  one  is  forced  to  endure  is  very  distasteful,  to  say  the  least.  It  is 
not  to  be  asserted  that  civilization  has  reached  these  remote  parts  :  it 
is  forcing  its  way,  it  is  clearing.  But  "  the  gentlemen,"  —  the  ragged- 
est  ruffian  with  a  white  skin  receiving  that  appellation  —  need  its  en- 
forcement very  much.  The  town  of  Macon  is  a  straggling  growing 
place,  with  some  very  good  houses  and  an  imposing  building,  that  of 
the  Bank.  The  country,  too,  which  is  now  hill  and  dale,  is  greatly  im- 
proved, widely  cultivated,  growing  cotton  and  corn,  and  often  present- 
ing very  agreeable  landscapes.  The  effect  of  the  frost,  for  we  have 
had  much  ice  yesterday  and  to-day,  on  the  porous  sands  and  sand- 
stone, was  often  very  beautiful  in  its  glassy  feathery  appearance.  Our 
journey  was  most  disastrous  ;  up  to  one  o'clock  we  had  progressed  at 
the  rate  of  four  miles  an  hour ;  at  one  of  our  stoppages  all  hands 
turned  out  and  pushed  our  car  and  engine.  Our  dinner,  with  coffee 
served  by  the  lady  of  the  house  at  the  head  of  the  table,  was  much 
the  same  as  yesterday,  Mr.  Ryder  observing  to  me,  "If  Mrs.  -Ma- 
cready  could  see  you,  sir."  After  dinner,  the  stoppages  became  so 
frequent,  and  I  so  chilled,  that  I  asked  to  walk,  and  walked  with 
Ryder  and  another  about  three  miles.  They  stopped,  as  there  was  no 
supply,  to  chop  the  wood  by  the  roadside  to  keep  the  fire  of  the  engine 
alight !  The  man  at  last  said  that  the  engine  would  not  make  steam, 
and  I  was  in  despair  of  reaching  Griffin  to-night.  At  last,  however, 
the  many  choppings  brought  us  to  a  station  where  we  got  wood  and 
water,  and  proceeded  tolerably  well,  reaching  Griffin  about  half-past 
eight,  instead  of  eleven  this  morning.  My  amusement  through  the 


1844.  A  TOWN  IN  THE  ROUGH.  523 

day  has  been  Brougham's  book.  Arrived  at  Griffin,  I  asked  for  a  bed- 
room, and  I  am  now  in  it,  with  a  wood  fire  before  me  that  just  reaches 
one  strip  of  me,  whilst  all  the  rest  of  my  body  is  sore  with  cold.  The 
room,  as  the  house  is,  is  of  new  wood,  the  chimney  brick,  not  even 
plastered,  no  carpet,  no  lock  to  the  doors,  one  nailed  up  for  the  occa- 
sion, the  other  buttoned.  One  table,  one  chair,  the  wind  blowing  in 
all  directions  into  the  place.  My  supper,  temperance  supper,  I  could 
not  eat ;  I  could  not  cut  the  meat,  and  ate  three  eggs.  In  short,  it  is 
as  uncomfortable  as  it  well  can  be,  but  I  must  be  thankful  that  I  am 
not  out  all  night,  and  so,  blessing  God  for  His  mercies  and  invoking 
His  blessing  on  my  beloved  wife  and  children,  I  go  to  my  uncomfort- 
able looking  bed. 

Griffin,  January  28th.  —  Kindled  my  fire,  and  made  as  comfortable 
a  toilet  as  I  could  in  this  shivering  room.  Its  walls  are  single  boards, 
and  through  the  chinks  of  their  joinings  and  occasional  splinters  the 
keen  frosty  air  whistles  in :  the  skirting  is  completed,  except  that  at 
the  doors  (there  are  three)  are  unfilled  apertures,  which  give  me  views 
into  two  rooms  below.  The  door  is  fastened  by  a  button  inside,  and 
another  opening  to  a  bedroom  for  four  or  eight  people,  as  it  may  hap- 
pen, has  been  nailed  up  on  my  account,  being  buttonless.  The  unplas- 
tered  brick  chimney  holds  a  good  wood  fire,  that  carries  heat  to  one 
side  of  me,  the  other  freezing  with  cold,  and  my  writing-hand  is  nearly 
disabled  with  sensations  of  numbness.  There  have  been  knots  in  the 
deal  walls  whose  vacancies  now  admit  the  draft.  Every  word  of  all 
<my  neighbors  is  distinctly  heard,  and  there  is  a  large  family  in  the 
room  below  :  one  chair,  one  little  table,  a  broken  jug  and  small  basin 
—  no  looking-glass  —  an  old  broken  sash-window,  a  trunk  of  the  resi- 
dent lodger  and  a  few  of  his  books  and  instruments  —  he  is  a  civil  en- 
gineer —  are  scattered  about  this  domestic  desolation.  The  room,  not 
being  ceilinged,  is  open  at  the  top  between  the  beams.  I  look  out  on 
a  rough  sort  of  flat,  scattered  over  which  one  might  count,  perhaps, 
sixty  or  seventy  houses  ;  stumps,  of  course,  everywhere  except  on  the 
railway  that  terminates  opposite.  At  a  little  distance  I  read  on  a 
small  one-story  house,  "  Broadway  Exchange."  Bags  of  cotton  lie 
profusely  scattered  about  the  railway.  A  picture  of  one  among  many 
of  these  germs,  populous  towns  pushed  by  these  pushing  people  into 
existence  and  name.  Around  is  the  everlasting  wood.  Some  signs 
are  on  cloth,  instead  of  board.  Trees  and  stumps  alternating  through 
the  city,  and  cotton,  cotton  everywhere. 

After  my  attempt  to  make  a  breakfast  I  sought  out  the  persons 
who  were  to  expedite  us  :  we  were  thrown  on  a  chance  for  places,  but 
one  great  difficulty  was  the  luggage,  which,  after  much  talking  with 
several  persons,  I  at  last  got  an  agreement  for,  to  be  conveyed  by  two- 
horse  wagons  to  Checaw  in  four  days,  for  the  sum  of  $50.  an  extor- 
tion. That  arranged,  a  person  whom  I  did  not  know,  took  hold  of  my 

arm,  and  in  a  very  familiar  way,  told  me,  Ex-Governor was  in 

the  place,  and  would  be  happy  to  see  me,  if  I  would  call.  I  was  taken 
by  this  youth  to  the  opposition  Hotel,  and  therein,  a  little  better  but 


524  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1844. 

very  similar  lodging,  I  was  presented  to  his  Excellency  and  lady, 
rather  a  smart  woman.  He  had  two  visitors  with  him,  of  the  lowest, 
poorest,  and  most. unpolished  of  the  American  small  farmers  or  yeo- 
men. I  thought  he  seemed  to  wish  his  constituent  visitors  far  enough. 
I  sat  a  reasonable  time,  listening  to  Mrs. expatiating  on  the  com- 
forts of  slavery,  and  with  many  courteous  expressions  from  the  Ex- 
Governor,  left  them  to  find  the  stage  coach  at  the  door  and  all  in 
hurry  for  my  departure.  Paid  bills,  gave  luggage  in  charge  to 
Thompson,  and  deposited  myself  in  the  stage.  I  think  the  roads  here 
are  unmatched.  The  country  was  wood,  beautiful  in  its  various  fields 
of  cotton  and  corn,  stalks  continually  appearing  in  the  newly  cleared 
woods  as  we  jolted,  crawled,  pitched,  tossed,  and  tumbled  along  the 
horrible  road.  We  were  constantly  under  the  necessity  of  walking, 
which  I  enjoyed  for  the  exercise  and  scenery.  Fielding's  pleasant 
"  Joseph  Andrews,"  was  my  inside  companion,  and  the  trees,  the 
streams,  the  sky,  the  log-huts,  and  the  ruminations  on  their  free  ten- 
ants with  their  slaves,  sufficiently  engaged  me  in  my  rambling. 

Greennlle,  January  29*A.  —  Dressed  with  difficulty  from  the  ex- 
treme cold,  which  prevented  me  from  sleeping,  whilst  the  injunctions 
of  the  landlord  not  to  disturb  his  ladies  in  the  next  room  prevented 
me  from  rising  long  before.  We  continued  our  tossing,  tumbling 
journey,  through  wood  and  clearings  alternately,  through  streams  and 
bogs,  that  made  one  wonder,  not  without  something  akin  to  despond- 
ency, how  we  were  to  reach  our  journey's  end.  Mr.  Ryder  was  im- 
patient of  every  jolt  of  the  carriage,  whilst  I  lay  in  my  corner  like  a 
bag  of  cotton,  and  letting  it  toss  me  as  it  would,  escaped  much  sore- 
ness and  fatigue. 

We  reached  La  Grange  in  tolerable  time.  In  this  great  .infant 
country  it  is  called  a  county  town,  but  would  be  a  goodly-sized  and 
pretty  village  in  England.  There  were  many  houses  built  with  their 
columns  and  porticoes,  looking  very  neat  and  comfortable  and  pretty 
with  their  trim  gardens  in  which  flowers  were  blooming  and  the  green 
leaf  always  visible,  commanding  views  of  a  very  picturesque  country. 
It  was  oil  this  route  from  hence  to  West  Point  that  the  driver,  to 
avoid  a  piece  of  heavy  bad  road,  drove  into  a  field  through  the  broken 
fence,  and  passing  through  it  came  out  by  some  means  at  the  other 
end.  This  is  nothing  in  this  primeval  part.  The  peach-orchards  here 
are  very  large  and  thriving ;  they  have  peach,  quince,  plum,  grape, 
etc.  At  West  Point,  where  we  tried  to  dine,  and  beyond  which  we 
passed  into  Alabama,  we  got  some  hard  eggs  and  ham  for  dinner. 
We  see  la  Jin  du  commencement :  this  infant  settlement,  wasting 
through  disease,  crime,  and  squalor  into  rapid  decay  ;  more  than  half 
the  stores  are  closed,  and  the  place  itself  looks  like  infant  life  dying 
of  age's  decrepitude.  The  beautiful  river  Chatteroocker  —  beautiful 
in  American  eyes  for  its  water-power  —  divides  it,  and  a  covered 
bridge  communicates  between  the  banks.  It  appears  that  it  was  in  a 
thriving  state  when  the  Indians  came  here  to  receive  their  presents, 
and  the  inhabitants  enriched  themselves  by  selling  liquors  to  these  un- 


1844.  A  BAD  JOURNEY.  525 

happy  creatures ;  its  present  appearance  is  a  just  retribution  ;  it  will 
soon  sink  to  a  few  rotting  sheds. 

Oaseta,  January  30th.  —  I  am  forcibly  struck  with  the  effect  that 
kindness  of  manner  and  encouragement  has  upon  these  poor  negroes ; 
it  charms  away  their  sullenness  at  once.  Our  old  landlady  quite  an- 
swered W.  Scott's  description  of  a  "  kind  old  body."  She  was  a  pleas- 
ant old  housewifely  lady,  with  her  preserved  water-melons,  peaches, 
etc.,  and  her  genuine  hospitable  spirit. 

Our  road  to-day  was  worse  than  ever :  through  swamps,  through 
wide  streams  ;  tracking  our  way  through  woods  by  the  blazing  of  the 
trees,  through  actual  rivers,  and  all  this  after  an  overturn,  which  de- 
tained us  in  the  middle  of  the  road  under  a  heavy  rain  for  above  an 
hour.  When  thrown  over,  all  were  in  confusion  and  alarm,  struggling 
to  get  out.  I  called  to  them  to  be  still  and  quietly  take  their  turns. 
It  was  certainly  a  very  bad  journey :  by  cotton,  corn-fields,  cane- 
brakes,  woods  of  oak,  chestnut,  hickory,  beech,  and  pine.  We  passed 
by  one  bridge  over  a  stream  of  surpassing  beauty,  divided  and  nar- 
rowed into  a  deep  downward  gush  by  a  mass  of  granite  ;  it  continued 
its  course  between  banks  as  charmingly  diversified  by  rock  and  foliage 
as  a  painter's  imagination  could  suggest.  The  ruined  or  deserted  rail- 
way still  accompanied  our  course.  "  Joseph  Andrews  "  was  my  com- 
panion till  dark.  Scarcely  hoping  to  finish  our  journey,  for  our  own 
management  of  our  weight  by  ballasting  the  coach  preserved  us  re- 
peatedly from  an  .overturn,  we  at  length  reached  Checaw.  A  man 
with  a  wretched  slave,  whom  he  sent  upon  the  top  of  the  coach,  had 
been  our  companion  from  La  Grange.  This  poor  negro  told  Mr.  Ry- 
der that  he  had  lived  with  his  master's  father,  and  that  now  he,  the 
master,  had  sold  his  wife  and  children  in  Georgia,  and  was  taking  him 
on  to  sell  him  in  Montgomery,  the  poor  wretch  crying  like  a  child  as 
he  told  his  story. 

Checaw,  January  31st.  —  Rose  long  before  daylight  to  pursue  our 
journey  by  railway  to  Montgomery.  Saw  our  landlord's  wife,  a  girl 
of  fourteen,  who  had  run  away  with  him.  Left  Checaw  at  five  ; 
swamp,  cane-brake,  wood,  our  road  lay  along  and  through  the  high 
bluff  that  overlooks  the  Tollapoosie  river,  which  made  some  fine  land- 
scapes. We  had  a  seven-foot  colonel  in  a  blanket  coat,  a  major  in  a 
ragged  one,  and  a  judge  in  one  of  frieze.  In  cutting  wood  for  the  en- 
gine, some  one  said,  "  Come,  Judge,  take  a  spell  of  chopping,"  which 
he  very  readily  did.  The  ragged  crew  that  filled  this  car,  spitting  in 
every  part  of  it,  obliged  me  to  change  my  seat.  I  was  very  much  dis 
gusted  ;  I  wish  the  people  would  be  more  cleanly,  self-respecting,  and 
decent  in  their  general  habits.  Reaching  Montgomery,  which  we  did 
from  the  railway  by  a  road  through  wood  and  swamp  enough  to  en- 
gulf a  caravan  or  frighten  one,  we  saw  some  persons  just  starting  for 
Mobile  ;  they  had  met  and  traveled  with  us  before  ;  they  advised  our 
proceeding,  and  we,  taking  their  counsel,  went  on  to  the  boat,  the 
Charlotte,  in  which  we  took  our  berths,  and  steamed  away  down  the 
Alabama  that,  like  a  "  proud  river,  overpeered  its  banks "  towards 


526  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1844. 

Mobile.  I  received  much  civility  from  the  gentlemen  who  went  on 
board  with  me,  they  using  their  best  efforts  to  procure  me  a  good  berth. 
I  took  a  state-room  to  myself,  and  did  not  regret  it.  Our  passage 
down  the  stream,  whose  windings  extended  the  distance  to  408  miles, 
the  stage  coach  road  being  180, 'continually  excited  my  attention. 
Here  was  enough  to  satisfy  the  traveler,  whose  thirst  for  change  is  to 
find  something  new,  that  he  had  left  nothing  behind  in  Europe  resem- 
bling this.  Its  banks  were  ever  changing  their  forms  :  now  bold  bluffs, 
with  trees  rising  perpendicularly  from  their  very  edges ;  then  long 
tracts  of  wood  running  in  levels  beyond  the  eye's  ken  or  the  thought's 
conjecture  ;  then  vast  expanses  of  water  from  which  were  seen  rising 
up  tall  blighted  trees,  log-huts,  fodder-stacks,  gates,  and  lines  of  cot- 
tages. Frequently  he  saw  whole  fields  of  cotton  submerged  by  the 
flood,  and  whole  clearings  showing  only  their  mills  and  gins  and  fences, 
etc.,  above  the  wide  surface  of  the  waters.  The  trees,  some  of  them 
covered  and  seemingly  pressed  down  by  the  heavy-looking  mournful 
draperies  .of  moss,  that  lent  a  character,  I  might  say  an  expression,  to 
the  tree  that  strikes  the  observer ;  the  white  and  leafless  sycamores 
often  stood  out  in  advance  of  the  sad  and  gloomy  forest  like  ghosts  of 
what  they  had  been,  stretching  their  ominous  arms  or  long  white  fin- 
gery  boughs  above  the  wide  ruin.  The  grape-vine  was  hanging  its 
thready  and  twining  branches  like  strong  net-work  about  some  of  the 
failing  trees,  like  voluptuousness  and  luxury  pulling  down  strength. 
Long  tracts  of  cane-brake  below,  houses  on  the  heights,  creeks,  inlets, 
and  widely  devastating  wastes  of  the  waters  were  in  frequent  succes- 
sion through  our  whole  course.  Bulwer's  novel  of  the  "  Last  of  the 
Barons  "  divided,  and  only  divided,  my  attention  with  this  wild  and 
grand  and  beautiful  scenery  of  the  Alabama.  Amid  thoughts  of  where 
1  am,  how  far  from  home,  and  what  they  are  thinking  of,  there  came 
the  news  from  England  to  crowd  and  to  confuse  my  mind.  Lord 
Lynedoch  and  Catalan!  dead.  Alas  ! 

Alabama  River,  February  1st.  —  My  employment  to-day  was  to 
read  Bulwer's  novel,  and  to  catch  glimpses  and  views  of  the  river  and 
its  banks.  The  live  oak  and  the  magnolia  are  among  the  richest  of 
the  evergreens  that  give  rich  and  deep  colors  to  the  woods,  and  the 
palmetto,  in  its  low  shrubby  state  is  still  graceful  in  its  form  and  cool 
and  pleasant  in  its  color.  At  a  very  beautiful  indenting  of  the  high 
bank,  well-wooded  to  the  top,  our  crew  and  company  got  up  on  some 
bales  of  cotton  and  paddled  them  with  sticks  down  the  little  inlet  to 
the  boat.  One  of  course  rolled  over,  to  the  hearty  enjoyment  of  all 
who  witnessed  him.  At  another  landing  a  person  of  ordinary  appear- 
ance, more  inclining  to  the  vulgar  in  manner  than  even  the  respecta- 
ble, came  with  his  family  and  slaves  on  board.  His  manner  of  speak- 
ing to  them  made  me  long  to  give  him  a  tip  with  my  foot  and  send  the 
ignorant  tyrant  and  oppressor  overboard. 

Went  to  bed ;  lay  down  as  the  engine  stopped ;  was  told  on  my 
inquiry,  about  one  o'clock,  that  we  had  arrived.  At  the  dinner,  the 
very  raffish  or  ragged  appearance  of  many,  and  the  table  equipage, 


1844.  NEW  ORLEANS.  527 

made  me  long  to  have  one  of  our  exquisites  placed  hungrily  amongst 
them.  But  as  Charles  XII.  replied  to  the  soldier,  touching  his  bad 
bread,  "  It  is  not  very  good,  but  it  is  eatable."  The  tin  bowl  to  wash 
in  in  my  state-room  was  a  peculiar  privilege  and  very  jealously  per- 
mitted for  a  very  short  time ;  of  course  a  common  comb  and  hair-brush 
in  the  saloon,  which  all  used.  One  person  was  distressed  on  missing 
it,  and  asked  if  there  was  not  a  hair-brush,  adding,  "  Can't  you  come 
across  that  brush?"  All  this,  and  with  all,  and  above  all,  the  beastly 
spitting,  is  very  annoying,  and  disturbs  very  much  one's  taste  and 
one's  stomach.  They  are  men  here,  and  feel  as  men  ;  to  polish  the 
exterior  would  not  rub  away  any  of  their  better  qualities,  and  would 
make  them  much  more  pleasant  to  come  in  contact  with. 

Mobile,  February  2d.  —  Rose  very  early  and  went  on  board  the 
New  Orleans  boat,  James  L.  Day,  to  secure  my  berth.  Packed  up, 
and  walked  away  after  breakfast  to  change  my  day's  abode.  Went 
on  to  the  Exchange ;  a  sale  of  men  and  women.  It  is  not  to  be 
talked  or  thought  of:  I  have  blamed  the  Abolitionists,  and  do  blame 
them,  for  the  effects  their  indiscreet  zeal  produces,  but  I  should  nei- 
ther wonder  nor  blame  if  I  saw  these  black  and  dusky  men  strike 
their  knives  into  the  brutal  bosoms  of  those  who  assert  the  right  of 
might  over  them.  A  Mr.  Cole,  an  acquaintance  of  Ryder's,  told  him 
they  "had  no  feeling  ;  they  did  not  mind  being  parted  from. wife  and 
children ;  they  forgot  it  in  a  week.  You  see  a  cat  when  one  drowns 
her  kittens  ;  she  soon  forgets  it— '-it's  just  the  same  with  the  colored 
people."  Is  it  —  O  God  !  —  the  same  ?  But  time  will  tell.  One 
man,  about  forty,  a  blacksmith,  had  his  merits  expatiated  on  in  the 
true  George  Robins  style:  "This 'hale  man  going  for  $550,  it's 
throwing  him  away  —  no  more  bid  ?  It 's  a  sacrifice  !  Going,  going, 
etc."  Another  mulatto,  a  field  servant  —  the  same  language,  the 
same  odious  blasphemy  against  nature  and  the  God  of  nature. 

Read  in  steamboat  extracts  from  Jeremy  Taylor,  Bishop  Hall,  etc. 
It  is  scarcely  possible  to  imagine  any  boat  of  the  kind  more  complete 
than  this  —  cleanliness,  neatness,  elegance  throughout ;  the  dinner 
served  in  the  best  manner. 

New  Orleans,  February  3d.  —  Rose  from  my  hard  and  ache-giving 
berth  about  half-past  four  o'clock ;  dressed  and  sauntered  up  and 
down  the  wooden  pier  thinking  of  home,  and  the  great  distance  I  was 
from  it,  and  all  it  contains.  Passed  into  the  sort  of  village,  half 
French,  half  English,  in  its  shops'  inscriptions,  and  was  interested  and 
struck  by  the  resemblance  it  conveyed,  in  the  architecture  of  its  small 
houses  and  gateway  or  arch,  to  an  old  French  village  or  small  town. 
I  went  to  the  St.  Louis  Hotel,  and  got  one  room,  a  very  poor  affair, 
till  others  should  fall.  Went  to  rehearsal  at  eleven  ;  did  not  like 
either  theater  nor  actors.  Rehearsed  "  Hamlet." 

1th.  —  Acted  Hamlet,  if  I  may  trust  my  own  feeling,  in  a  very 
Shakespearian  style ;  most  courteous  and  gentlemanly,  with  high 
bearing,  and  yet  with  abandonment  and,  I  think,  great  energy.  Was 
called  for,  a  compliment  which  I  had  really  rather  dispense  with.  I 
fancy  the  audience  were  borne  along  with  the  performance. 


528  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1844. 

&th.  —  Called  on  Mr.  Clay ;  saw  him,  seventeen  years  older  than 
when,  full  of  life  and  vivacity,  he  introduced  himself  to  me  at  Wash- 
ington at  our  Minister's,  Sir  R.  A.  Vaughan.  He  seems  to  me  to 
have  shrank  in  size,  and  his  manners,  though  most  kind,  urbane,  and 
cheerful,  have  no  longer  the  vivacity  and  great  animal  spirits  that  then 
accompanied  them.  He  remembered  meeting  me ;  he  talked  of  Tulma 
and  of  his  engagements,  asked  me  to  dine  with  him  to-morrow,  which 
I  was  unable  to  do.  Our  visit  was  limited  by  an  appointment  visit  of 
the  Judges  of  the  Supreme  Court.  I  gave  him  Miss  Martineau's 
letter,  and  we  talked  of  her.  He  seemed  surprised  not  to  see  me  look 
older,  saying  he  should  not  take  me  for  more  than  forty.  In  him  and 
Webster,  two  great  minds,  I  see  the  pressure  of  the  heavy  hand  of 
time  ;  to  descend  to  myself,  I  feel  it.  In  speaking  of  slavery  he  de- 
plored it  and  condemned  it  in  the  abstract,  but  thought  the  two  races 
could  not  be  altered  in  their  respective  positions  without  equal  distress 
for  both  ;  intimating  that  the  colored  man  is  happier  in  his  present 
state  than  he  could  be  if  free  !  What  would  Alexandre  Dumas  say  to 
that? 

Wth.  —  Richelieu. 

12ih.  —  Virginius. 

1  \th.  — Werner. 

1  Qth.  —  Hamlet. 

1 7th.  —  Virginius. 

18^. — Went  out  in  cab  to  Hewlett's  Hotel  to  look  at  the  rooms 
he  had  prepared  for  me.  Agreed  to  enter  them  on  Tuesday.  Ar- 
ranged my  accounts  ;  looked  at  some  papers.  More  news  from  Eng- 
land. Thought  on  the  plays  for  the  remainder  of  my  engagement. 
Robinson  called,  above  two  hours  after  his  appointment  with  Major 
Montfort,  a  good-natured  American  soldier.  We  went  in  his  carriage 
through  the  city,  and  along  the  banks  of  the  canal,  and  through  wood 
and  swamp,  of  cedar,  cypress,  out  to  the  Lake  Pontchartrain  ;  the 
morning  was  very  pleasant,  and  these  melancholy  woods  with  thc'ir 
ghostlike  trees,  in  their  mournful  drapery  of  moss  and  viue,  are  always 
interesting  to  me.  Large  lighter  kind  of  sloops  were  coming  up  the 
canal.  A  very  decent  house  of  entertainment  is  on  the  shore  of  the 
lake,  all  ground  recovered  from  the  swamp.  It  amused  me  yesterday 
to  know  that  the  French  call  the  American  portion  of  the  city  "  Le 
Faubourg  Ame'ricain."  I  dined  with  Robinson  at  the  table  d  hole  of 
Hewlett,  who  gave  an  excellent  table  ;  was  much  amused.  After 
dinner  rode  along  the  Levee,  saw  the  shipping  and  warehouses  of  this 
wonderful  place ;  the  waterworks,  with  their  muddy  contents ;  the 
steamboats  coming  in  ;  the  Mississippi  winding  round,  and  the  build- 
ings, wealth,  and  bustle  of  the  place.  The  people  seem  so  happy! 
Mr.  Bullett  amused  me  ;  particularly  by  his  intended  mode  of  curing 
scarlet  fever.  Came  home ;  put  by  my  assorted  papers ;  addressed 
newspapers.  Revised  the  play  of  "  King  Lear "  for  American  per- 
formance. Cut  the  part  of  Edward  for  Mr.  Ryder. 
.  — Macbeth. 


1844.  WASHINGTON'S  BIRTHDAY.  529 

20th.  —  Went  with  Robinson  and  Andrews  to  call  onM.  Pepin,  who 
conducted  us  to  the  graveyards.  There  is  nothing  in  their  site  to 
please  the  eye,  nor  is  there  anything  in  their  language  to  interest  or 
excite.  But  he  must  be  very  insensible  who  can  contemplate  any  de- 
pository of  the  dead  with  indifference,  and  many  and  various  emotions 
are  awakened  here.  There  are  four  or  six  of  those  squares  formed  by 
thick  rampires,  built  of  brick,  in  which  are  rows  of  square  cavities 
one  above  the  other,  like  the  apertures  of  ovens  (which  is  the  term 
they  are  known  by),  and  into  these,  as  in  the  mausoleum  at  Trentham, 
the  coffins  are  pushed  and  then  built  up  ;  the  inclosed  spaces  are  cov- 
ered, filled  with  tombs  of  all  pretensions  as  to  cost  and  taste ;  the 
pride  of  the  Spaniard,  the  sentiment  of  the  French,  and  the  plain 
business-like  English  inscription  are  mingled  through  the  grounds. 
One  was  exclusively  for  people  of  color  !  There  were  fresh  flowers 
placed  near  some  and  planted  near  others  ;  much  that  was  tender  and 
touching  and  chaste  fronting  or  near  to  vulgar  pride  and  ludicrous 
sentimentality.  Tears  painted  on  the  slabs  of  some  and  pompous 
inscriptions  upon  others  ;  some  simple,  sad,  and  solemn-looking  struct- 
ures, others  ostentatiously  and  even  ludicrously  ambitious.  I  was 
interested  and  shall  try  to  renew  my  visit. 

21st.—  Werner. 

22d.  —  Washington's  birthday.  A  curious  subject  for  reflection  is 
offered  by  this  day:  in  Europe  there  are  certain  ceremonies  of  com- 
pliment and  expense,  such  as  dinners,  levees,  drawing-rooms,  illu- 
minations of  public  offices,  clubs,  and  specially  appointed  tradesmen's 
shops,  which  are  called  rejoicings  (?)  and  are  transmitted  faithfully 
from  one  gracious  and  beloved  sovereign  to  another.  But  throughout 
these  free  and  independent  States,  the  memory  of  the  man  who  was 
born  this  day  shall  be  hallowed  by  the  gratitude  and  joy  of  millions 
of  hearts,  that  will  hand  down  to  their  children's  children  the  debt 
of  reverence  and  love  which  they  and  mankind  owe  to  him  for  the 
benefits  his  life  conferred  and  his  example  has  left.  The  birthday  of 
Washington  shall  be  an  eternal  festival  wherever  a  freeman  speaks 
the  English  tongue. 

23d.  —  Richelieu. 

2±th.  —  Othello. 

2Qth.  —  Werner. 

27th.  —  William  Tell. 

28th. —  Occupied  with  affairs  upon  my  late  and  wearied  rising.  This 
daily  rehearsal,  and  earnest  acting  at  night  (for  I  cannot  —  there  is  no 
merit  —  I  cannot  be  a  party,  a  willing  party,  to  a  disgraceful  perform- 
ance), seems,  under  the  effect  of  this  warm  climate,  this  summer  in 
February,  to  exhaust  my  strength  and  spirits.  Whether  it  is  the  com- 
ing on  of  age  or  the  quantity  of  strength  and  energy  I  expend  in  my 
rehearsals  and  performances,  I  know  not,  but  they  are  more  than  I  can 
well  discharge  ;  certain  it  is,  that  I  can  do  nothing  else.  I  can  see 
nothing,  see  no  one.  I  might  as  well  be  incarcerated  in  Drury  Lane 
34 


530  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1844. 

or  Co  vent  Garden,  and  where  there  is  so  much  that  I  am  anxious  to 
observe,  this  is  fretting  and  vexatious.  Acted  Hamlet. 

2Sth.  —  The  joy,  the  comfort  I  have  felt  this  day  in  the  ability  to 
repeat  to  myself  that  it  is  the  last  day  but  one  of  my  New  Orleans  en- 
i;:iuement  is  not  to  be  described  nor  to  be  explained,  except  that  the 
labor  is  so  heavy  and  the  conclusion  of  it  brings  me  nearer  home.  Re- 
hearsed lago.  Saw  Forrest,  who  came  on  the  stage.  Acted  lago 
well. 

March  1st.  —  Rehearsed  King  Lear,  with  a  perfect  consciousness  of 
my  utter  inability  to  do  justice  to  my  own  conception  of  the  character. 
I  am  weary  of  this  atmosphere  and  this  place.  Dined  early,  rested, 
and  thought  over  my  great  part  of  King  Lear,  feeling  that  I  could  not 
satisfy  myself  in  it,  but  wishing  to  do  my  utmost. 

Went  to  the  theater,  very  weak.  The  house  not  what  it  ought  to 
have  been,  certainly  not.  I  rallied  against  my  lassitude,  and  made  a 
very  fair  fight  for  poor  Lear ;  parts  of  it  I  acted  very  fairly,  and  I 
think  made  a  strong  impression  on  the  audience.  Some  parts  I  did 
really  well.  Was  called  for ;  in  a  very  short  time  I  appeared  before 
them  and  addressed  them. 

2d.  —  Gave  my  first  hours  to  the  needful  business  of  packing,  which 
I  completed  in  very  good  time.  Met  Mr.  Ryder  at  the  railway.  Slept 
the  greater  part  of  the  way  to  the  lake,  "  quite  wearied  and  o'erspent." 
We  found  a  good  deal  of  motion  on  the  lake  ;  the  boats  lay  within  the 
little  harbor  formed  by  wooden  piers  stretching  out  into  the  lake  and 
leaving  only  a  narrow  entrance  by  which  to  pass  in  and  out.  The 
land,  as  we  enter  the  narrow  channel  between  the  Lakes,  is  very  low, 
marshy,  duck,  snipe-like  looking  ground ;  a  neat  little  fort,  with  an 
artillery  company,  commands  the  passage. 

Mobile,  March  3d.  —  We  were  within  the  bay  of  Mobile  and  press- 
ing over  its  smooth  waters,  strewn  over  with  the  stripped  and  shat- 
tered trees  borne  down  by  the  freshet  of  the  Alabama,  and  landed.  I 
went  with  a  porter  as  a  guide  about  the  town,  and  was  forced  to  ask 
as  a  favor  a  bed-room  at  the  top  of  the  house,  and  glad  to  house  my- 
self here  to  wash  and  dress. 

4th.  —  Acted  Hamlet.  I  thought  I  never  acted  the  first  scene  with 
the  Ghost  so  well ;  the  audience  this  night  was  very  numerous.  Per- 
sons going  away  in  some  of  the  steamboats  had  prevailed  on  the  mas- 
ters to  delay  their  start  till  midnight  in  order  to  visit  the  theater. 
Many  rowdy  people  were  there,  women  of  the  town  —  in  short,  it  was 
an  'audience  attracted  by  sheer  curiosity.  Perhaps  I  was  not  up  to  my 
mark,  although  I  strove  very  resolutely. 

5th.  —  Richelieu. 

Cttli.  —  Virgin  his. 

7th.  —  Richelieu. 

8th.  —  Werner. 

$th.  —  Anze"  proposed  to  take  me  a  drive  in  the  environs  of  the  city. 
Called  on  Magee,  whom  I  saw.  Found  Anze"  at  the  door  of  my 
hotel  —  accompanied  him  in  his  buggy  through  the  city,  along  the 


1844.  MOBILE— NEW  ORLEANS.  531 

direction  of  the  shore  of  the  hay  hy  pretty  surhurban  houses,  into 
woods  in  all  the  wild  and  picturesque  confusion  of  self-creation  and  re- 
newal. The  boxes,  as  they  are  called,  of  the  dwellers  near  the  city 
are  very  neat,  and  the  hedge  of  the  Cherokee  rose  —  like  our  common 
•wild  white  rose  —  most  luxuriantly  in  bloom  over  a  fence  of  neat  lat- 
tice work,  presented  a  very  neat  out-work  to  a  very  neat  residence. 
The  woods  and  the  views  of  the  bay  were  most  beautiful  —  the  mag- 
nolia. Dined  with  Mr.  Gracie —  liked  his  wife  —  met  Dr.  Nott, 
Fisher,  Ball,  Castellan,  Anze",  Ogden,  etc.  A  very  agreeable  day. 

My  drive  to-day  among  some  very  pretty  suburban  villas  with  their 
many  flowers  and  richly-blossoming  peach-trees,  oranges  in  blossom, 
fig,  and  various  ornamental  shrubs  was  very  lovely.  The  air  was  quite 
delicious ;  we  came  frequently  close  to  the  water's  side,  looking  from  a 
low  cliff  over  this  extensive  bay,  with  its  shoals,  its  masses  of  rude 
timber,  its  distant  shores,  and  passing  through  clearings  and  wood  of 
lofty  pines  till  we  reached  the  Magnolia  Grove  —  so  called  from  the 
trees  which  chiefly  form  its  shade.  The  shrubs  were  very  beautiful, 
and  flowers.  I  gathered  some  violets  for  Catherine  —  not  quite  so 
deeply  blue  as  our  own  sweet  flower,  and  with  no  perfume. 

llth. —  Macbeth. 

12^.  — William  Tell. 

13th.—  Othello. 

14:tk.  — Werner. 

15th.  —  Richelieu. 

IGth.  —  Started  with  a  fresh  breeze  against  us  for  New  Orleans ; 
liked  everything  in  Mobile  except  the  hotel  and  theater ;  glad  to  go 
forward  as  beginning  my  return  to  dear,  dear  home.  Walked  the 
upper  deck  till  wearied,  looking  at  the  woods  or  the  shores,  the  drift- 
ing timber  scattered  over  the  bay,  the  fleet  of  merchantmen  riding  in 
the  outer  bay,  the  islands,  and  the  gorgeous  sunset. 

New  Orleans,  March  I8th.  —  Acted  King  Lear. 

19^.  — Acted  "The  Stranger."  Leaving  the  theater  was  attracted 
by  the  blaze  of  a  very  great  fire  in  Royal  Street.  I  had  heard  the 
tocsin  during  the  last  scene  of  the  play.  Went  to  it  and  watched  the 
terrific  and  sublime  spectacle  for  upwards  of  an  hour ;  the  flames  rose 
in  upward  torrents  of  fire,  and  at  times  there  was  an  atmosphere  of 
sparks.  I  saw  two  houses  fall  in  with  tremendous  crashes,  and  came 
away  as  the  fire  seemed  to  yield  to  the  efforts  of  the  firemen. 

20th. —  Benedick. 

21st.  —  Acted  Shylock  very  fairly.  At  supper  took  a  gin  mint- 
julep  by  way  of  experiment :  the  most  deliciously  cunning  compound 
that  ever  I  tasted ;  nectar  could  not  stand  before  it ;  Jupiter  would 
have  hob-nobbed  in  it. 

28^.  —  Called   on    Mr.  R .     To  my  surprise  and   amusement 

found  that  his  wife,  of  whom  he  had  taken  leave  on  board  ship  last 
night  embarked  for  France,  was  at  home ;  had  returned ;  could  not 
bear  to  leave  her  friends  ;  lost  heart  at  the  last  minute.  I  think  I 
should  scarcely  have  welcomed  back  any  woman  who  had  cost  me  all 


532  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1844. 

the  pain  to  part  with  her  and  then  returned  —  so  much  good  grief  all 
thrown  away ! 

On  the  Mississippi,  April  2d.  —  In  the  evening,  two  brightly  re- 
flected lights  stretching  far  on  the  horizon,  with  smoke  before  them, 
were  pointed  out  to  us  as  the  prairies  on  fire.  The  foliage  yesterday 
and  to-day  had  been  beautifully  enriched  by  the  red  or  dark  pink 
blossom,  covering  the  tree  like  the  peach,  of  the  Arbor- Judas  or  red- 
bud  ;  these,  often  side  by  side  with  the  snowy  blossom  that  powdered 
the  dog-wood  tree,  diversified  by  color  and  form  the  lofty  aud  leafless 
cotton-wood.  The  voyage  of  the  Mississippi  most  beautiful. 

St.  Louis,  April'  6th.  —  Rose  in  good  time.  Mr.  Franciscus  and  the 
carriage  were  ready,  and  we  started  for  the  Ferry  :  drove  into  the 
boat,  crossed  the  Mississippi,  and  drove  out  upon  the  other  floating 
pier  without  alighting.  Our  road  lay  through  Illinois  Town,  a  small 
place  through  which  a  little  creek,  crossed  by  a  good  wooden  bridge, 
runs ;  we  went  over  it  and  along  the  high  causeway  built  for  winter 
or  wet  travel,  when  the  soil  of  the  country  admits  your  carriage  to  the 
nave  of  the  wheel  or  deeper.  Our  road  lay  along  a  country  that  was 
fatness  itself,  the  ground  oozing  out  richness,  black  loam  that  might  be 
scratched  to  give  a  crop ;  we  passed  several  of  those  Indian  mounds 
and  reached  some  lakes,  where  to  my  great  delight  I  saw  the  habita- 
tions of  the  beaver,  at  distances  from  each  other  in  the  middle  of  the 
water.  Our  way  for  many  miles  was  tame,  till  we  reached  some  much 
larger  mounds,  and  standing  in  great  numbers  on  the  plain.  I  cannot 
guess  if  they  were  forts  or  tombs,  one  seems  for  one  purpose,  another 
for  the  other.  We  passed  through  some  low  woods  before,  and  now 
we  reached  some  high  and  well-wooded  hills,  where  woodpeckers,  the 
beautiful  turtle-dove,  the  blue  bird,  and  others  were  numerous  on  the 
wing.  We  met  numerous  families,  with  their  wagons  and  oxen  carry- 
ing their  substance  to  some  other  State.  I  cannot  understand  this. 
We  passed  through  Collins ville,  where  there  are  three  churches,  built 
by  an  old  lady,  to  whom  the  place  belongs,  and  who  will  not  allow 
any  one  to  live  there  who  drinks  or  keeps  fermented  liquors.  Stopped 
at  a  public,  kept  by  Clark,  an  English  sailor,  with  a  pretty  wife,  five 
children,  nice  house,  garden  farm,  barns,  in-house,  etc.  We  dined  (!), 
then  passed  through  Troy  and  Marcia  Town  ;  saw  the  stretch  of  the 
prairie ;  plovers,  prairie  hen-partridges  in  abundance.  Reached  Col- 
onel Madge's  cottage  ;  was  hospitably  received  and  entertained.  Saw 
the  prairies  on  fire  in  three  places  ;  it  was  beautiful. 

1th.  — -  We  drove  out  about  a  mile  and  a  half  on  the  prairie,  which, 
in  its  bare  winter  garb,  reminds  me  very  much  of  Salisbury  Plain.  I 
can  fancy  the  sublime  sort  of  awe  that  any  one  must  feel  in  being 
twenty  miles  deep  on  such  a  wild,  and  it  is  in  its  extent  that  its  gran- 
deur consists ;  its  beauty  is  in  the  flowers  of  all  hues  with  which  it  is 
so  gorgeously  carpeted  in  the  summer  season.  The  soil  is  rich  to 
rankness. 

Vth.  —  Acted  Hamlet. 

10th.  —  Richelieu. 


1844.  ST.  LOUIS— CINCINNATI.  533 

1 1  th.  —  Virginias. 

12th.  —  Was  gratified  in  my  walk  with  the  sight  of  the  lilac  in  full 
bloom,  and  in  some  little  gardens,  tulips,  narcissus.  It  is  not  only  the 
sweet  feeling  which  the  beauty  of  flowers  always  imparts  to  me,  a 
tranquil  feeling  of  delight  in  their  beauty  of  color,  form,  and  perfume, 
but  they  are  associated  in  my  mind  with  home,  with  dear  England, 
and  soothe  me  with  their  influence. 

13th. —  Rose  very  early,  and  coaxed  the  colored  waiter  to  give  us 
breakfast,  on  which  we  set  out  in  the  carriage  from  Alton,  bidding 
farewell  to  our  very  civil  and  good-natured  host,  and  pursuing  our 
way  on  a  most  lovely  morning  through  the  little  town,  through  woods 
in  all  the  variety  of  vernal  beauty,  passing  the  wreck  of  another  rail- 
way, another  monster  monument  of  the  headlong  and  precipitate  specu- 
lation of  this  reckless  people.  We  held  the  river  occasionally  in  view 
and  then,  the  thick  woods  would  shut  us  from  its  sight. 

loth.  —  lago. 

1 6th.  —  Shylock. 

17th.  —  To  my  great  satisfaction  I  received  a  large  pair  of  buffalo 
horns,  and  a  grand  pair  of  elk  horns  from  a  Mr.  Whatton.  Rested. 
Acted  Macbeth  really  well,  too  well  for  St.  Louis,  though  the  audience 
were  much  more  decorous,  attentive,  and  appreciative  than  I  have 
heretofore  found  them.  I  suppose  they  begin  to  understand  me. 
Was  called  for  and  bowed. 

ISth.  —  Went  on  board  the  West  Wind.  Saw  on  board  two  of  the 
Scholefields  of  Birmingham,  whom  I  was  really  delighted  to  meet. 
We  went  on  our  watery  way,  the  river  varying  its  form,  the  banks  as 
constantly  changing  from  bluff"  or  wooded  hill  to  low  brake  or  wood, 
or  wooded  highland  with  rocks  —  most  interesting. 

21st.  —  Went  up  on  deck  in  the  early  morning,  and  enjoyed  the  air, 
the  river  and  the  exercise  very  much.  Began  "  Samson  Agonistes." 
Read  some  interesting  passages  in  the  "  History  of  the  Church,"  a  book 
I  must  endeavor  to  read  carefully  through.  Talked  with  a  gentleman 
from  Iowa,  who  had  been  giving  a  fearful  account  of  the  wild  and  law- 
less condition  of  that  territory,  when  it  was  first  put  into  a  state  for 
territorial  jurisdiction. 

Louisville,  April  22d.  —  Went  into  Louisville.  Passed  court-house, 
jail,  markets,  etc.  Very  spacious  streets,  good  shops,  an  appearance 
of  wealth  and  comfort,  well-dressed  people,  etc. 

Attracted  constantly  by  the  beauty  of  either  shore  of  Kentucky  or 
Indiana,  which  now  showed  more  continuous  cultivation,  better  farms 
and  houses,  etc.,  of  more  pretension  ;  the  leaf-clad  hills  wore  every 
variety  of  form,  and  the  rocks  peeping  out  or  showing  large  fronts 
from  amidst  them  were  always  picturesque  —  it  was  a  chain  of  lakes. 

Cincinnati,  April  23d.  —  After  a  sleepless  night,  the  first  light 
showed  me  the  buildings,  etc.,  of  Cincinnati.  The  bell  rang  at  a  quar- 
ter to  five,  when  I  rose,  dressed,  etc.,  and  dispatched  Thompson  to 
inquire  about  my  hotel. 

Looked  at  "  Hamlet,"  and  went  to  rehearsal ;  took  pains,  but  the 
weather  was  very  hot. 


534  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1844. 

Acted  Hamlet,  I  think,  very  fairly.  Came  home  to  hotel,  very 
much  worn  and  exhausted,  and  almost  dying  for  some  tea,  which  for 
nearly  an  hour  I  could  not  get. 

24th.  —  Richelieu. 

25th. —  Werner. 

2Gth.—  Shylock. 

21th.  —  Macbeth. 

28th.  —  A  young  man  whom  I  do  not  know,  I  think  the  landlord's 
son,  came  up  and,  throwing  his  arm  round  my  neck,  asked  me  if  I 
knew  Colonel  Taylor.  I  said,  "No."  "That  is  he  behind  you,  he 
has  been  looking  for  you,  shall  I  introduce  you  ?  "  "If  you  please." 
He  did  so  and  I  remained  in  conversation  with  Colonel  Taylor  till  Mr. 
Foster  came  to  accompany  me  in  my  drive  through  the  city.  It  is  on 
the  bend  of  the  river,  built  over  by  streets  at  right  angles  numbered 
and  named  chiefly  from  trees  ;  the  streets  are  wide,  planted  generally 
with  trees  along  the  foot-paths,  with  many  small  plots  of  ornamented 
ground. 

30th.  —  Foster  called  as  I  was  dressing.  I  was  very  unwell,  have 
suffered  much.  Acted  Virginius  very  feebly  to  a  very  poor  house  ; 
suffering  from  debility.  Was  called,  went  on,  and  bowed. 

My  southern  and  western  tour  is  ended ;  thank  God  for  all  it  has 
given  me.  I  feel,  however,  overwrought. 

May  1st.  —  Dear  memorandum  of  England  this  sweet  day  of  spring, 
bringing  with  it  thoughts  of  home  and  much  that  is  sweet  and  dear  ! 
Felt  much  better. 

Pittsburg,  May  5th.  —  Was  much  amused  by  Mr.  Ryder's  report  of 
the  observation  of  a  resident  to  him,  that  the  "  citizens  of  Pittsburg 
were  very  much  dissatisfied  with  Mr.  Macready  for  not  staying  to  per- 
form there."  Ryder  observed,  that  I  had  an  engagement,  etc. 

Harrisburg,  May  6th.  —  We  dined  at  McConnell's  Town,  a  very 
well-built  happy-looking  little  town.  Our  weary  journey  jolted  us  on 
at  four  and  a  half  miles  an  hour  through  the  night  up  to  eleven  o'clock, 
when  we  reached  Chambersburg  batteries,  bruised  and  rheumatic. 
Lived  out  two  hours  there  and  then  embarked  on  the  railway  —  Oh, 
what  a  relief  to  Harrisburg. 

7th.  —  Awoke  to  look  upon  this  very  pretty  capital  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, situated  on  the  Susquehanna. 

The  country  from  Harrisburg  to  Philadelphia  through  Lancaster  is 
one  rich  tract  of  the  highest  cultivation,  comfort,  industry,  economy, 
and  wealth  in  the  farms  and  gardens  and  orchards  that  cover  the 
country.  At  the  Schuylkill  the  views  are  most  beautiful,  perfectly 
charming.  Reached  Philadelphia,  took  railway,  traveled  rapidly  to 
New  York. 

New  York,  May  8th. —  Wrote  to  Miss  C.  Cushman,  as  I  had  prom- 
ised Simpson,  wishing  her  to  play  here  during  my  engagement. 

Received  my  dear  letters  from  home  ;  all  well  there.  Thank  God. 
Letter  inclosed  from  dear  Lydia  to  Letitia,  answering  their  letters 
upon  what  struck  down  my  heart,  the  news  of  poor  dear  Jonathan's 


1844.  NEW  YORK  —  MONTREAL.  535 

death.  We  talk  of  patience  under  these  visitations,  but  none  can 
truly  investigate  his  feelings  and  say  he  does  not  repine,  when  those 
of  virtue  and  high  character,  whom  he  loves,  are  forever  lost  to  him. 
"  He  stood  by  me  like  my  youth."  I  should  have  been  satisfied  to 
have  seen  any  one  of  my  boys  (God  bless  them)  like  him.  He  was  a 
noble  creature,  dear,  dear  youth. 

I3th.  —  Acted  Hamlet,  I  think,  very  well  indeed;  the  audience 
were  deeply  attentive,  and  much  more  fervent  than  I  remember  them 
to  have  been ;  was  called  for  and  well  received. 

Came  home  and  no  tea,  "  no  nothing." 

16^. —  Mr.  Gould,  author  of  "  Ludovico  Sforza,"  called  and  sat 
some  time.  I  restored  him  his  manuscript. 

27th.  —  We  are  the  chief  attraction,  I  may  say  the  only  one,  in 
New  York  at  present.  Reproved  the  Birnam  Wood  messenger  very 

sharply  ;  he  deserved  it.  Spoke  to  Miss ,  who,  it  seems,  laughed 

in  the  Banquet  scene ;  my  object  in  speaking  to  her,  desiring  her  to 
call  here,  was  to  prevent  the  recurrence  of  such  inconveniences  as  I 
had 'encountered ;  but  she  promised  to  behave  for  the  future. 

3Qth.  —  Acted  Hamlet ;  the  latter  part,  i.  e.,  after  the  h'rst  act,  in  a 
really  splendid  style.  I  felt  myself  the  man.  Called  for  and  well 
received.  The  house  good.  Hamlet  has  brought  me  more  money 
than  any  play  in  America. 

June  1st. —  Calling  for  Golden,  we  walked  up  to  Ruggles's,  where 
we  met  Mrs.  R.,  his  son,  and  daughter,  a  very  pretty  girl,  Judge  Kent, 
Sedgwick,  Prescott,  Hall,  Griffin,  Hamilton,  Inman,  etc.,  at  a  very 
elegant  breakfast,  which  passed  off  in  most  lively  and  pleasant  con- 
versation. 

3d.  —  «  Bridal." 

Qth.  —  At  Albany. 

18lh.  —  Saratoga. 

19 Ih. —  Uiica. 

2lst.  — Auburn. 

Buffalo,  June  24th.  —  Wedding  Day.  Rehearsed  Hamlet.  Dined 
and  had  a  "  plum-pudding."  Drank  a  bumper  of  champagne  to  my 
dear  wife.  Rested.  Acted  to  a  bad  house.  Oh,  Buffalo  ! 

27th.  —  Richelieu.     27th.  —  Macbeth.     28th.  —  Werner. 

Montreal,  July  Qtk.  —  Looked  at  the  papers  for  English  news  ;  saw 
flattering  notices  of  myself.  Read  the  death  of  Thomas  Campbell. 
"  How  dumb  the  tuneful!"  He  outlived  his  acceptability,  and  was 
latterly  intolerable  in  society  ;  but  what  a  charming  poet.  Eheu  ! 

17th.  —  Acted  Hamlet. 

Lay  on  my  sofa  at  the  hotel,  ruminating  upon  the  play  of  "  Hamlet : " 
upon  the  divine  spirit,  which  God  lent  to  that  man,  Shakespeare,  to 
create  such  intellectual  realities,  full  of  beauty  and  of  power,  inheriting 
the  ordinary  wickedness  of  humanity,  the  means  of  attracting  so 
strongly  the  affections  and  wonder  of  men  !  It  seems  to  me,  as  if  only 
now,  at  fifty -one  years  of  age,  I  thoroughly  see  and  appreciate  the 
artistic  power  of  Shakespeare  in  this  great  human  phenomenon  ;  nor 


536  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1844. 

do  any  of  the  critics,  Goethe,  Schlegel,  Coleridge,  present  to  me  in  their 
elaborate  remarks,  the  exquisite  artistical  effects  which  I  see  in  this 
work,  as  long  meditation,  like  long  straining  after  sight,  gives  the 
minutest  portion  of  its  excellence  to  my  view. 

l$th.  —  Richelieu. 

22d.  —  Werner. 

24th.  —  Macbeth. 

Philadelphia,  September  8lh.  —  Read  in  Wordsworth  as  reading 
exercise.  I  feel  my  voice  growing  more  and  more  inflexible ;  the 
tones  which  I  used  to  like  to  listen  to,  I  cannot  now  evoke,  alas  !  Read 
in  Hamlet. 

9th.  —  Hamlet. 

llth.  —  "Stranger." 

12^.  — Shy  lock. 

14:th.  —  "  Stranger." 

New  York,  September  IGth. —  Hamlet. 

19^.  _  Werner. 

30th.  —  Richelieu. 

23d.  —  "Bridal." 

24th.  —  Othello. 

25th.  —  The  anniversary  of  my  opening  the  Park  Theater,  New 
York,  since  when  I  find  myself,  with  all  my  expenses  paid,  about 
£5,500  bettered  in  pecuniary  circumstances,  for  which  I  gratefully, 
devoutly  and  earnestly  thank  God. 

2Qth. — "Stranger." 

27th. —  Lear. 

Boston,  October  2d.  —  Hamlet 

7th.  —  Richelieu. 

9^.  —  «  Stranger." 

10th.  —  Shylock. 

11 M.  — "Bridal." 

14^.  —  Macbeth. 

London,  November  9th.  —  Mitchell  and  Serle  called,  and  after  show- 
ing him  the  danger  of  announcing  the  English  performance  at  Paris 
before  Miss  Cushman's  and  Mr.  Ryder's  arrival,  I  consented  to  open, 
if  they  arrived  in  time,  on  the  2d  of  December.  It  was  settled  that 
my  plays  should  be  produced  in  the  following  order,  which  I  marked 
at  the  time  in  pocket-book :  "  Othello,"  "  Hamlet,"  "  Virginius,"  "  Mac- 
beth," "Werner,"  "King  Lear,"  and  perhaps  "Merchant  of  Venice." 
God  grant  us  success. 

12th.  —  Read  the  little  story  of  "Grace  and  Clara"  to  my  darling 
children.  Calculated  and  pondered  well  my  journey  to  Paris,  and 
upon  mature  reflection  and  consideration  of  dear  Catherine's  state  of 
health,  and  of  Katie's  constitution,  resolved  on  going  post  to  Paris. 

Paris,  December  loth. —  Went  with  Catherine  and  Willie  to  break- 
fast with  De  Fresne ;  met  there  Regnier,  an  intelligent  actor  of  the 
Franc,ais,  a  M.  B.  Fontaine,  the  architect  of  the  palace,  Jules  Janiu, 
several  others,  and  Miss  H.  Faucit,  Miss  Wilkes,  and  Mr.  Farren. 


1845.  PARIS.  537 

1 6th.  —  Acted  Othello  with  great  care,  often  with  much  reality,  but 
I  could  not  feel  the  sympathy  of  the  audience ;  they  were  fashionable, 
and  from  the  construction  of  the  theater,1  not  within  the  reach  of  my 
electric  contact,  to  coin  an  expression  ;  the  shocking  delay  between  the 
acts  was  another  cause  for  a  certain  heaviness  I  felt  to  pervade  the 
evening.  I  was  not  satisfied  with  the  issue,  uneasy  and  restless  in 
mind.  Alexandre  Dumas,  Regnier,  Vattel,  etc.,  came  "  pour  faire 
leurs  compliments,"  but  I  was  not  assured. 

1 8^.  —  Looked  at  the  papers,  and  was  most  gratified  by  a  very 
cordial  notice  of  "  Othello  "  in  "  Galignani."  Received  a  most  fervent 
congratulation  from  Eugene  Sue.  Went  to  the  theater  to  see  to  some 
matters  left  unsettled  in  yesterday's  rehearsal.  Spoke  very  strongly 
to  Mitchell  about  our  future  plays,  insisting  on  the  proper  attention  of 
the  servants,  etc.  Rested  and  thought  much  of  Hamlet. 

Acted  Hamlet  fairly,  though  somewhat  disturbed  by  the  inefficiency 
of  persons  and  things  about  me.  Called  for.  The  play  over  a  few 
minutes  before  twelve. 

Did  not  sleep  two  hours  of  the  whole  night,  my  excitement  was  so 
strong  ;  painful  dreams  when  I  did  sleep. 

20t/i.  —  Othello. 

23d.  —  Acted  Virginius  with  much  energy  and  power  to  a  very  ex- 
cited audience.  I  was  loudly  called  for  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  act ; 
but  could  not  or  would  not  make  so  absurd  and  empirical  a  sacrifice 
of  the  dignity  of  my  poor  art.  Was  called  for  and  very  enthusiasti- 
cally received  at  the  end  of  the  play.  De  Fresne  came  into  my  room 
and  detained  Catherine  and  myself  in  long  conversation. 

27th.  —  Acted  Virginius  with  some  force  ;  the  audience  were  deeply 
interested,  but  not  so  tumultuous  in  their  applause  as  on  Monday. 
Called  for  and  received  with  fervor. 

28th.  —  Dined  with  De  Fresne ;  met  at  dinner  le  Marquis  de  Pastoret, 
guardian  of  the  Comte  de  Chambord  (Henry  V.),  Paul  de  la  Roche, 
the  great  artist.  In  the  evening,  Reguier,  Bertin  2  and  family,  a  son 
of  Talma,  etc. 


1845. 

Paris,  January  1st. — Werner. 

3d.  —  Received  a  note  from  Eugene  Sue  proposing  that  we  should 
go  to  the  Theatre  Frangais  to-morrow  night,  being  the  first  representa- 
tion of  a  new  play  by  a  friend  of  his.  I  answered,  assenting  to  his 
wish.  Acted  Hamlet. 

4th.  —  Dined  with  Eugene  Sue,  his  collaborateur,  and  another  friend, 
a  very  agreeable  man.  Went  to  the  Theatre  Fran^ais ;  saw  a  play 
called  "  Guerrero,"  a  Mexican  subject.  Madlle.  Plessis  was  sometimes 

1  This  series  of  English  performances  took  place  in  the  Salle  Ventadour,  the 
theater  usually  devoted  to  Italian  Opera.  —  ED. 
'  M.  Berlin  was  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  Journal  des  Dtfbats.  — ED. 


538  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1845. 

graceful,  but  not  quite  concentrated  enough  in  her  passion.  M.  Beau- 
valet  was  melodramatic  in  his  style,  strong,  but  sometimes  beyond  the 
modesty  of  nature.  Eugene  Sue  left  me  to  make  his  compliments  to 
the  author. 

5th.  —  I  called  on  De  Fresne,  who  accompanied  me  to  De  la  Roche, 
who  received  me  most  kindly,  and  in  whose  studio  I  saw  two  beautiful 
pictures,  one  of  great  power  of  color,  a  Roman  Beggar  Family,  like 
the  strongest  of  Murillo  ;  the  other,  in  delicacy,  sentiment,  and  har- 
mony most  exquisite,  a  Virgin  and  Sleeping  Child,  Joseph  in  the  re- 
mote distance :  it  was  a  poem,  and  bought  by  Lord  Hertford. 

The  Ecole  des  Beaux -Arts,  a  building  and  institution  to  shame  the 
British  Government  and  people.  Saw  De  la  Roche's  picture  in  oil 
on  the  circular  wall  of  the  theater,  and  .the  copy  of  the  4i  Last  Judg- 
ment." Thence  to  an  old  gentleman  of  ninety  years  of  age,  intimate 
with  Garrick,  Le  Kain,  etc.  He  was  very  interesting,  but  I  do  not 
wish  for  such  a  life. 

Gth.  —  Acted  Macbeth,  in  my  opinion,  better  than  I  have  ever  done 
before.  The  house  was  deeply  attentive  and  interested,  but  did  not 
give  the  quantity  of  applause  which  such  a  performance  would  have 
elicited  in  England.  Was  called  for.  Regnier,  De  Fresne,  and 
Mitchell  came  into  my  room. 

7th.  —  Called  on  Scheffer  and  saw  his  pictures  ;  the  two  from  Faust, 
the  "  Seduction  Scene "  and  the  "  Sabbat,"  were  full  of  beauty  ;  the 
.St.  Augustine  and  his  Mother  most  characteristic;  a  sketch  of  the 
Dead  Christ  and  Marys,  quite  touching.  A  note  from  Mitchell  in- 
forming me  that  the  Minister  refused  us  permission  to  act  beyond 
Monday  night. 

8th.  —  Acted  Macbeth  with  effort,  not  so  well  as  Monday,  but  I 
think  with  power  and  discrimination.  The  audience  applauded  Miss 
Faucit's  sleeping  scene  much  more  than  anything  else  in  the  whole  play. 

10th.  —  Macbeth. 

12th.  —  Dined  with  Mr.  Rowland  Errington  ;  met  Lady  Wellesley, 
Baring,  Lord  and  Lady  Kinnoul,  Miss  McTavish,  Howard,  etc.  Liked 
very  much  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Errington  ;  a  very  pleasant  evening. 

13th.  — Acted  Hamlet  for  the  most  part  extremely  well ;  the  audi- 
ence were  interested  and  attentive,  but  not  so  excitable  as  usual. 
Bouffe  came  into  my  room  with  Mitchell,  "  pour  faire  ses  compliments." 

l<ith.  —  Chapman  called  on  business;  he  told  us  that  our  receipts 
had  exceeded  those  of  any  theater  in  Paris !  Called  on  De  Fresne  and 
M.  Perrez  with  Catherine.  What  things  he  told  and  read  to  me  of 
"  Egalite"  and  what  treason  on  treason  of  Talleyrand  !  One  most 
amusing  and  interesting  anecdote  of  Napoleon  and  the  Emperor  of 
Russia.  Showed  me  Talleyrand's  letter,  autograph,  urging  the  execu- 
tion of  D'Enghien.  In  the  evening  cut  and  arranged  "  Hamlet "  for 
the  Palace. 

15lh. —  Spoke  to  Mitchell,  who  gave  me  a  letter  from  George  Sand, 
most  eloquent  and  elegant.  Called  with  Catherine  on  De  Fresne. 
We  went  together  to  M.  Pourtales,  and  saw  his  pictures  and  his  gems. 


1845.  PERFORMANCE  AT  THE  TUILERIES.  539 

1 6th.  —'I  drove  to  the  Tuileries.  We  inquired  for  the  concierge, 
M.  Lecomte,  and  having  found  his  bureau  and  presented  the  order 
from  Mr.  Lambert  (which  Mitchell  had  brought  me  with  a  box  for 
Catherine,  admitting  two  persons),  M.  Lecomte  conducted  us  to  the 
second  door  en  face.  By  this  we  entered,  and  passing  through  the 
lobbies  and  galleries  came  upon  the  front  boxes  of  the  theater.  It  was 
most  elegant ;  much  larger  than  I  had  anticipated  from  my  recollection 
of  Fontainebleau  and  some  theaters  in  the  Italian  palaces  ;  but  it  was 
such  a  theater  as  befitted  the  palace  of  the  king  of  a  great  nation.  I 
went  upon  the  stage,  which  was  filled  up  exactly  as  at  the  Ventadour  ; 
even  to  the  round  trap  for  the  Ghost's  descent.  With  much  difficulty, 
after  being  led  where  I  could  not  follow,  I  obtained  a  room  at  a  mod- 
erate height  from  the  stage,  and  having  secured  the  entrance  of  my 
servant  and  self,  on  which  point  there  was  great  jealousy,  I  returned 
to  my  hotel.  I  thought  much  on  what  I  had  to  go  through,  being 
quite  aware  that  there  could  be  little  or  no  applause,  and  fixedly  mak- 
ing up  my  mind  to  occupy  my  thoughts  alone  with  Hamlet ;  to  be 
Hamlet,  and  think  neither  of  King,  or  Court,  or  anything  but  my  per- 
sonation. We  reached  my  room,  and  I  was  tolerably  accommodated. 
The  play  began,  and  I  adhered  to  my  purpose  ;  had  neither  eyes  nor 
thought  for  anything  but'  the  feelings  and  thoughts  and  demeanor  of 
Hamlet.  In  my  mind  I  never  gave  such  a  representation  of  the  part, 
and  without  a  hand  of  applause  ;  but  indeed  there  was  an  attempt  in 
the  first  scene  by  some  one  who,  I  suppose,  became  sensible  of  his 
offense  against  decorum,  and  "  back  recoiled,  he  knew  not  why,  even 
at  the  sound  himself  had  made."  In  the  fourth  act,  where  I  have 
nothing  to  do,  I  did  cast  a  glance  at  the  royal  box  ;  saw  the  white 
fuzz  of  the  Queen's  head  and  the  old  King  on  the  other  side  of  the 
center ;  the  salle  had  altogether  a  very  brilliant  appearance,  the  pit 
was  filled  with  military.  After  the  play  one  of  the  King's  suite  in 
court  uniform  waited  on  me,  and,  with  expressions  of  his  Majesty's 
pleasure,  etc.,  presented  me  with  a  long  packet  or  parcel.  I  hastily 
dressed.  Mitchell  just  spoke  to  me.  Miss  H.  Faucit,  as  I  passed  her, 
said,  "Such  a  pretty  bracelet."  I  hurried  home  to  Catherine,  told  her 
all  the  news,  and  looked  at  the  poignard :  sent  by  the  King. 

17th.  —  Henry  IV. 

18th.  —  Went  to  the  Opera  Comique,  and  saw  the  stage,  etc.,  which 
was  arranged  for  the  scene  of  "  King  Henry  IV."  M.  Henri,  the  sous- 
regisseur,  was  very  civil  in  doing  the  honors  of  his  establishment. 

When  on  the  stage  and  prepared  to  begin,  a  person  came  forward 
and  introduced  me  to  the  manager  of  the  theater.  The  curtain  drew 
up,  and  the  audience  were  deeply  attentive.  One  person  tried  at  the 
commencement  to  disturb  the  performance  by  mimicking  my  voice, 
but  it  was  put  down  instantly,  and  the  act  of  "  King  Henry  IV."  was 
listened  to  with  the  deepest  attention.  Whilst  I  was  undressing,  the 
Committee  of  the  Authors,  etc.,  requested  to  see  me  and,  entering, 

1  The  poignard  given  by  Louis  Philippe  to  Macrcady,  was  bequeathed  by  Lira 
to  his  daughter,  Benvenuta  —  Mrs.  Horstbrd.  —  ED. 


540  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1845. 

presented  me  with  a  letter  and  (as  I  afterwards  found)  a  gold  medal 
inscribed  to  me !  I  thanked  them,  etc.  M.  Halevy  was  the  prin- 
cipal.1 

19*/<. —  Called  on  M.  Leduc,  who  was  in  bed  from  an  accident ;  he 
gave  me  a  very  cordial  reception  ;  told  me  of  the  unanimity  of  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  literary  men  in  Paris  on  my  acting ;  gave  me  George 
Sand's  address,  quite  the  entente  cordiale.  Called  on  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Errington  ;  on  George  Sand. 

Went  with  De  Fresne  to  call  on  Victor  Hugo,  in  the  Place  Royale ; 
the  storm  obliged  our  driver  to  drive  the  carriage  under  the  colonnade. 
The  house,  old  and  cold,  was  quite  a  poet's  mansion.  The  salon,  hung 
round  and  ceilinged  with  tapestry,. had  large  pictures  ;  it  had  a  gloomy 
air,  though  not  dark,  and  looked  like  a  poet's  room.  Victor  Hugo  re- 
ceived me  very  cordially,  and  was  most  earnest  in  his  expressions  of 
admiration  and  respect  to  me.  I  talked  with  several  there,  and  had  a 
circle  of  the  young  men  around  me.  I  saw  his  daughter,  who  was 
pretty.  He  accompanied  me  to  the  door  when  we  left,  and  was  most 
cordial  in  his  adieux  to  me. 

20th.  —  Called  with  Sumner  on  George  Sand ;  saw  her  son  and 
daughter,  a  sweet  interesting  girl ;  talked  much  of  Shakespeare  and 
of  England ;  I  liked  her  very  much.  She  said  she  would  come  to 
England,  if  I  would  act  in  London,  though  she  disliked  the  country  so 
much.  Purchased  a  pendule  for  my  study.  Went  to  Mrs.  Austin's 
early  in  the  evening.  Mr.  Austin  was  in  the  room  when  I  entered, 
but,  after  salutation,  retired,  and  I  saw  him  no  more.  M.  Barbier  was 
present,  and  he  read  part  of  his  translation  of  "Julius  Caesar"  into 
French  prose.  Left  them  to  go  to  the  ambassador's.  The  people 
were  so  crammed  in  the  reception-room  that  I  could  not  approach 
Lady  Cowley,  but  almost  immediately  the  crowd  began  to  move  into 
the  theater,  fitted  up  in  the  ball-room  of  the  hotel  or  palace  ;  our  way 
was  through  a  deliciously  cool  gallery  lined  with  exotics  —  it  might 

1  This  performance  was  given  at  the  request  of  the  Committee  of  the  Society  for 
the  Relief  of  Distressed  Authors,  for  the  benefit  of  their  fund.  The  letter  of  thanks 
was  as  follows  : 

PAKIS,  le  18  Janvier,  1845. 

MONSIEUR,  —  La  Commission  de  la  Societe*  des  Auteurs  Dramatiques  Fran9ais, 
a  bcsoin,  avant  votre  dc'part  pour  1'Angleterre,  de  vous  renouveller  ses  remercie- 
ments.  L'appui,  tout  puissant,  quo  vous  venez  de  preter  a  sa  caisse  de  sccours  n'a 
pu,  augmentera  sans  doute  1'admiration  quo  tout  Paris  professe  pour  votre  grand 
talent ;  mais  il  a  double  1'estime  que  1'on  doit  a  votre  noble  et  ge'ne'reux  caract&re. 

Permettcz  nous,  monsieur,  de  vous  offrir,  comme  un  temoignage  de  cette  haute 
estime,  la  mcdaille  d'or  que  nous  venous  de  faire  frapper  a  votre  nom.  Elle  vous 
rappellera  quelquefois  ce  que  vous  avail  fait  pour  des  infortunes  honorables,  la 
reconnaissance  que  nous  en  conservons,  et  les  liens  indissolubles  que  existent  de'- 
sormais  entre  les  artistes  Anglais  et  Franfais. 

Agreez,  monsieur,  la  nouvelle  assurance  dc  notre  haute  consideration. 

(Signe')      EUGENE  SCRIBE.        VICTOR  HUGO.  ETIEXXE. 

MELESVILLE.  DAI/TON.  (President.) 

(Vice  President.)          F.  HALEVY.  VIENNET. 

Vice-President.) 
A  M.  Macready,  artiste  dramatique.  ED. 


1845.  NEWCASTLE.  541 

have  been  a  conservatory,  but  I  do  not  distinctly  recollect.  I  got  a 
very  good  seat ;  the  ladies  occupied  the  front  benches.  I  sat  near 
Broadwood  and  Errington,  who  introduced  me  to  Lawrence  Peel's 
son  ;  Galignani  was  also  near  me.  The  theater  was  very  prettily  ar- 
ranged, and  some  of  the  beauty  and  plenty  of  the  pride  of  the  Eng- 
lish aristocracy  was  collected  in  it.  The  prologue,  written  by  Lady 
Dufferin,  and  spoken  by  Charles  Sheridan  and  Greville,  was  very 
smart.  The  scandal  scene,  first  scene  of  Sir  Peter  and  Lady  Teazle, 
and  the  screen  scene  of  the  "  School  for  Scandal "  was  the  play  ;  "  The 
Merry  Monarch  "  was  the  farce.  To  me  it  was  all  amusing.  The  star 
of  the  night,  and  really  one  to  shine  on  any  stage,  was  Miss  McTavish 
in  Mary.  I  did  not  think  her  very  pretty  when  I  met  her  at  dinner 
at  Errington's,  but  her  acting  was  naive,  sprightly,  arch,  simple,  and 
beautiful.  Saw  Mrs.  Errington  after  the  play  ;  saw  Palgrave  Simp- 
son ;  also  Lord  Cowley,  to  whom  I  was  presented  by  Mrs.  Errington ; 
talked  some  time  with  me,  complimented  me  upon  my  success  in 
Paris,  etc. 

21st.  —  Called  on  De  Fresne,  and,  although  with  very  great  reluct- 
ance, in  compliance  with  his  particular  wish,  accompanied  him  to  the 
Conservatoire.  Heard  the  pupils  of  Sanson  go  through  their  course 
of  theatrical  instruction.  It  is  an  institution  of  the  Government  to 
train  pupils,  who  are  elected  to  the  school,  for  the  stage.  I  was  inter- 
ested, and  saw  the  inefficacy  of  the  system  clearly ;  it  was  teaching 
conventionalism  —  it  was  perpetuating  the  mannerism  of  the  French 
stage,  which  is  all  mannerism.  Genius  would  be  cramped,  if  not 
maimed  and  distorted,  by  such  a  course.  Saw  Halevy  there,  but  could 
only  exchange  a  few  words  with  him,  as  I  was  in  haste  to  return. 

London,  January  ZSth.  —  A  Mr. ,  a  barrister,  called  on  the 

subject  of  some  dramas  of  about  3,600  lines  each,  which  he  had  made, 
and  put  into  Longman's  hands,  upon  the  reigns  of  the  Plantagenets, 
joining  with  it  a  history  of  the  Church ;  I  backed  out  as  courteously 
as  I  could. 

Newcastle,  February  17th.  —  Acted  Hamlet,  I  think  for  the  most 
part  well,  and  to  the  satisfaction  apd  with  the  interest  of  the  audience. 
Certainly,  my  performance  of  .Hamlet  is  a  very  different  thing  from 
what  it  used  to  be,  it  is  full  of  meaning.  Called  for  and  well  received. 
In  the  first  scene  of  the  play,  when  I  turned  to  ask  Horatio  again, 
"  What,  in  faith,  make  you  from  Wittenberg  ?  "  I  had,  without  any 
pain  or  uncomfortable  sensation,  a  sort  of  swimming  in  the  head  that 
made  me  feel  as  if  about  to  fall.  I  was  at  last,  for  it  endured  some 
time,  obliged  to  rest  on  Horatio's  arm  ;  it  passed  off,  but  I  felt  it  for 
some  time.  Is  this  a  warning  ?  Well,  all  in  God's  good  time.  God 
bless  my  children,  and  His  will  be  done. 

18th.  —  Went  to  rehearsal.  Oh,  how  I  want  some  motive  to  keep 
up  my  excitement  in  this  profession,  to  act  before  provincial  galleries, 
with  provincial  companies,  feeling  how  very  few  there  are  that  do  not 
look  contemptuously  on  my  calling  —  to  feel  this  when  the  power  of 
vindicating  myself  as  something  better  is  past ;  to  see  a  bully  like 


542  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1845. 

and  a  poor  creature  like held  in  honor.     0  God,  what  is 

this  world  for! 

19M.  —  Acted  Virginias  very  fairly,  thanks  to  my  light  dinner. 
Called  for.  Everything  here  makes  me  reflect.  I  see  a  life  gone  in 
an  unworthy,  an  unrequiting  pursuit.  Great  energy,  great  power  of 
mind,  ambition,  and  activity  that,  with  direction,  might  have  done  any- 
thing, now  made  into  a  player. 

2&th.  —  Made  an  extract  of  some  lines  upon  "  Richard  IL,"  and  an 

autograph  for  Margaret  E .     That  play  lives  in  her  mind,  so  does 

it  in  mine,  when  I,  the  first  who  ever  acted  it  since  the  time  of  Shake- 
speare, produced  it  here.  She  was  a  girl  then,  and  I  not  more  than 
a  boy,  with  no  power  to  see  the  course  before  me,  no  hand  to  point 
it  out,  no  mind  to  direct  me  —  my  talent,  energy,  and  youthful  activ- 
ity a  mere  trading  property  in  the  hands  of  a  sordid  possessor.  Alas  ! 
Alas! 

Acted  Shylock  very  unsatisfactorily,  sometimes  feebly,  but  the 
whole  play  was  so  bad,  I  am  not  able  to  tell  how  much  of  the  dull- 
ness is  chargeable  to  me.  Still  I  was  not  good. 

March  3d.  —  On  this  day  I  enter  on  my  fifty-third  year. 
Sheffield,  March  5th.  —  Acted  Hamlet  pretty  well,  taking  the  com- 
pany etc.,  into  account.     Called  for.     "What  a  farce  has  this  absurd 
usage  now  become. 
ftth.  —  Richelieu. 
7th.  —  Othello. 

8^.  —  Saw  a  Mr.  Browuell,  who,  under  the  remembered  name  of 
Fenton,  had  been  a  player  in  my  father's  theaters,  when  I  first  came 
on  public  life.  He  is  now  eighty,  looking  really  more  healthy  than  he 
did  thirty-five  years  ago ;  he  spoke  of  his  son,  now  a  player  in  Aus- 
tralia. 1  was  glad  to  see  the  old  man.  Went  to  St.  Paul's  Church  ; 
inquiring  at  the  sexton's  house,  the  woman  said,  when  I  told  her  I 
wanted  to  go  into  the  chnrch,  "  Mr.  Macready,  is  it  not  ? "  I  told 
her,  "Yes,"  and  she  would  go  with  me.  She  told  me,  the  letters 
on  my  blessed  mother's  slab  wanted  deepening,  which  I  expected  and 
went  to  speak  about.  I  stood  over  her  remains,  and  the  lines  that  re- 
cord her  age  and  death.  My  heart  has  ever,  ever  loved  her  ;  had  she 
lived,  my  fate  might  have  been  different.  How  well  do  I  remember 
her,  in  life,  in  joy,  in  sorrow,  and  in  her  maternal  love  ;  and  in  death, 
so  sweet  and  placid  —  how  well  do  I  recollect  kissing  that  marble 
forehead  as  she  lay  hi  her  serene  ethereal  sleep.  O  God,  bless  her 
beloved  spirit. 

10th. —  Some  grave  and  melancholy  thoughts  occupied  my  mind  in 
thinking  of  the  deep  grief  that  several,  indeed  all  the  elder,  of  my  be- 
loved children  will  feel  in  my  death,  from  seeing  the  servants  of  the 
adjoining  house  gathering  flowers  and  sprigs  from  the  garden,  evi- 
dently to  strew  the  corpse  of  their  master  which  is  to  be  buried  to- 
day. I  know  what  my  wife  and  sister  will  feel,  if  they  should  survive 
me,  but  my  children's  will  be  a  long  sorrow,  and  they  have  a  life  to 
begin.  God  bless  and  protect  them. 


1845.  PROJECT  OF  A  NEW  THEATER.  543 

"Went  to  town  in  cab ;  rehearsed.  Mr.  Sloan,  manager  of  the 
Queen's  Theater  in  Manchester, , came  to  speak  to  me;  he  was  urgent 
that  I  should  play  with  him,  and  agreed  to  my  terms,  viz.,  to  insure 
my  moiety  of  each  house,  £50  at  least,  for  eleven  nights.  I  could 
not  refuse  this  offer,  but  said  I  would  write  my  answer.  I  do  not 
wish  him  to  make  a  sacrifice.  Letter  from  Calcraft  wanting  me  for 
Dublin. 

Acted  Macbeth  with  great  pains,  and  as  well  as  I  could  against  such 
dreadful  accompaniments. 

m/2.  —  Shylock. 

l'2th.  — Virginius. 

14</«. —  Walked  into  town,  quite  luxuriating  in  the  sharp  fine  morn- 
ing. Went  to  the  sexton  of  the  church,  and  with  him  to  my  blessed 
mother's  grave  ;  he  had  done  much  more  than  half  of  the  inscription, 
and  rendered  the  letters  sharp,  deep,  and  clear ;  he  promised  to  try 
to  finish  it  before  the  afternoon.  Found  Mr.  Hall  at  the  theater,  who 
accompanied  me  to  Hatton's,  where  I  saw  the  interesting  process  of 
electric  and  magnetic  plating,  the  voltaic  battery  and  the  magnetic. 
Where  are  the  wonders  of  science  to  cease  ?  Saw  the  cutting  of  forks, 
spoons,  etc.  Returned  to  theater.  Mr.  Hall  gave  me  a  pair  of  scis- 
sors for  Catherine.  Rehearsed. 

Called  at  the  church  again,  and  saw  Beckett,  the  sexton  ;  he  had 
nearly  finished  the  inscription  on  my  beloved  mother's  grave.  My 
heart  blessed  her,  and  prayed  to  God  for  support  and  comfort  in  tak- 
ing my  leave  of  her.  Walked  home. 

Read  over,  despite  of  slumber,  my  part  of  Brutus;  dined  very  mod- 
erately. Acted.  Spoke  with  Mr.  Roberts  on  the  business  of  money, 
he  remitting  £150  for  me  to  Ransom's.  Seeing  the  snow  falling  heav- 
.ily,  as  I  went  to  the  theater,  I  said,  "  How  can  one  help  being  super- 
stitious ?  for  whenever  I  have  anticipated  my  money  the  house  has 
been  bad."  I  anticipated  to-night:  the  house  was  good.  We  should 
work,  and  leave  the  event  contentedly  to  Providence. 

London,  March  16th. —  Heard  the  news  of  poor  dear  old  Miss  Lin- 
wood's  death,  at  a  very  advanced  age  ;  I  had  a  very  great  respect  and 
regard  for  her,  dear  old  lady.  She  was  very  kind  and  attentive  to  my 
sisters  after  their  leaving  her  school,  and  very  cordial  in  her  attentions 
to  me. 

22d. —  Called  on  Forster,  with  whom  I  met  Willmott.  Fox  came 
in  and  we  had  a  long  and  regular  discussion  on  the  project  of  a  new 
theater.  It  was  proposed  and  considered  by  all,  as  looking  like  a  feas- 
ible arrangement,  to  build  one  by  means  of  a  Joint  Stock  Company. 
Willmott  was  commissioned  to  make  inquiries  about  the  ground  in 
Leicester  Square  and  obtain  particulars. 

Manchester,  March  25th.  —  Acted  Cardinal  Richelieu,  I  think,  very 
well.  Called  for,  but  this  becomes  really  nonsense.  Read  the  news- 
paper. Examined  my  prospects.  I  now  see  that,  as  I  cannot  go  to 
Dublin  at  the  other  part  of  the  year,  it  is  of  importance  that  I  should 
have  an  engagement  in  London,  for  means. 


544  MACREADY>S  DIARIES.  1843. 


.  —  Acted  Othello,  really  striving,  laboring  to  act  it  well  ;  par- 
tially, I  think,  I  succeeded;  but  the  labor  is  very  great  when  I  turn  to 
think  that,  with  my  rehearsals,  which  to  me  are  careful,  watchful,  and 
fatiguing  businesses,  and  dressing  and  acting,  etc.,  I  employ  at  least 
nine  hours  a  day  in  the  theater  in  labor,  to  say  nothing  of  my  writing, 
reading,  and  thinking  on  my  business  elsewhere.  My  money  is  not  got 
without  some  equivalent  of  toil.  Thank  God,  that  I  can  work  for  it. 
Called  for,  but  the  audience  seemed  to  me  cold  and  difficult  to  excite, 
very  different  from  those  who  used  to  assemble  in  the  old  theater  —  it 
may  be  raised  prices  depress  their  spirits. 

27th.  —  Acted  Werner  very  fairly.  Called  for  (trash  !).  Spoke  in 
gentle  rebuke  and  kind  expostulation  to  Mr.  G.  V.  Brooke. 

2Sth.  —  Was  kept  long  awake  last  night  in  thinking  on  what  the 
thoughts,  sensations,  and  actions  of  the  convict  Tawell  must  be  during 
such  a  night.  What  a  lottery  is  this  world,  and  what  a  miserable  race 
of  beings  are  crawling  over  it  ?  What  is  our  mission  here  ? 

My  uncertainty  as  to  my  future  means  will  not  allow  me  to  be 
happy.  I  ought  —  I  ought  to  be  —  a  man  of  good  fortune  now,  and 
what  am  I  ?  What  would  illness  make  me,  or  any  reverse  ?  0  God, 
befriend  and  support  me. 

Acted  "  The  Stranger,"  but  indifferently.  It  was  a  great  mistake  of 
the  manager  to  perform  it,  but  he  was  resolute  upon  it. 

3\st.  —  Acted  Macbeth  with  labor;  and  with  much  annoyance  from 
the  inefficiency  of  my  collaborateurs.  Called  for  —  a  custom  which  is 
no  longer  .a  compliment. 

April  1st.  —  Richelieu. 

2rf.  —  Virginius. 

3d.  —  Called  at  Messrs.  Irwin  and  Chester's  architects  of  the  new 
theater,  and  from  their  office  to  the  theater,  where  I  found  Mr.  Ches- 
ter, a  very  courteous,  obliging,  intelligent  man,  who  showed  me  the 
plans,  and  went  with  me  into  the  building.  It  interested  me  very 
much  ;  in  reference  to  our  hope  of'something  similar  in  London. 

4th.  —  Brutus. 

5th.—  Shylock. 

Manchester  to  Carlisle,  April  6th.  —  At  a  very  early  hour,  reached 
the  railway  station,  and  sat  to  await  the  mail  train  for  Lancaster; 
found  Mr.  Ryder  in  the  carriage.  Breakfasted  at  Lancaster  and  just 
got  a  view  of  the  Castle,  which  I  always  look  at  with  a  peculiarly 
painful  interest,  as  the  place  of  my  unlucky  father's  confinement  (for 
debt)  when  the  cares  of  life  were  first  devolved  on  me.  Left  by  mail 
coach  with  three  other  inside  passengers,  one  of  whom,  in  the  course 
of  conversation,  asked  if  he  was  not  in  company  of  Mr.  Macready, 
and,  learning  that  it  was  so,  was  very  complimentary  in  his  expres- 
sions of  satisfaction.  On  my  neighbor  awaking  lie  introduced  my 
name  to  him,  and  he  very  cordially  declared  himself  an  acquaintance 
of  my  father.  We  chatted  through  the  morning  and,  on  reaching 
Carlisle  and  separating,  he  gave  me  his  card  :  the  Lord  Provost  of 
Glasgow.  On  reaching  the  Coffee-house  hotel,  Daly,  the  manager, 


1845.  GLASGOW— CARLISLE.  545 

called,  and  I  settled  -with  him  my  visit  to  this  place,  to  Whitehaven, 
etc.  Wrote  a  letter  to  my  dear  Catherine  ;  and  spent  a  drowsy  after- 
noon, after  arranging  my  accounts,  etc.  Went  early  to  bed. 

Glasgow,  April  9th.  —  Othello. 

10th.  —  Werner. 

12th.  —  Richelieu. 

14th. — Acted  Macbeth  as  well  as  I  could,  with  the  drawbacks  of 
very  bad  assistants.  Called  for  and  well  received.  My  old  school- 
fellow, Monteath,  of  Closeburn,  Dumfries,  came  into  my  room  and  sat 
with  me  a  little  time.  I  was  so  glad  to  see  him,  to  call  back  the  days 
of  boyhood  again. 

1 5th.  —  Virginius. 

17th.  —  Inclosed  Mr.  Milnes's  letter  to  Mr.  R.  Monteith,  of  Carstairs. 
which  now  I  have  no  prospect  of  delivering.  Wrote  to  my  beloved 
sister,  Letitia,  of  whose  health  I  have  great  fear.  God  spare  and 
bless  her.  Wrote  to  Catherine,  inclosing  a  check  for  week's  expenses. 
Mr.  Ryder  called  and  gave  me  the  news  from  Edinburgh,  where  he 
believes  there  is  a  very  considerable  desire  to  see  me. 

18th. —  Hamlet. 

19^.  —  Still  weary;  indeed  almost  worn  out.  A  petition  from  Mr. 
Reynoldson,  a  man  I  never  saw  in  my  life ;  but  it  is  usual  to  make  ap- 
plications to  me.  I  am  so  rich  !  God  help  me  !  I  might  be,  had  I 
retained  all  I  have  given,  and  I  should  be,  but  I  do  not  say  this  in  re- 
pentance of  what  I  have  given  —  not  at  all ;  only  I  could  wish  not  to 
be  annoyed  now  with  importunity  when  really  I  cannot  afford  to  give. 

Saw  Alison  ("  History  of  the  French  Revolution  ").  I  liked  him 
very  much.  He  said  several  striking  things.  Acted  Macbeth. 

21st.  —  Richelieu. 

Glasgow  to  Carlisle,  April  22d.  —  Rose  in  good  time,  though  with 
abated  spirits,  to  finish  what  remained  of  packing  and  prepare  for  my 
departure.  The  result  of  this  engagement  has  a  "little  dashed  my 
spirits ; "  it  is  quite  clear  that  I  am  never  to  look  for  the  chance  of 
great  success.  I  must  be  content  to  realize  the  prospect,  that  my 
doubtful  hope  presents,  of  securing  enough  to  retire  with  comfort  to 
America,  for  I  cannot,  that  is  very  plain,  expect  to  live  — if  I  live  — 
in  England.  I  am,  however,  most  thankful,  truly  thankful,  in  my  in- 
dividual person,  for  myself;  but  these  things  keep  alive  my  fears  and 
distrust. 

Obliged  to  stay  all  night  in  Carlisle.  Read  newspaper.  Walked 
in  the  town,  over  the  bridge,  enjoying  the  heavy  mass  of  shadow  in 
which  the  old  castle  lay,  the  distant  cathedral,  the  Eden,  and  the  gor- 
geous red  moon  that  rose  in  full  red  glory  to  the  left,  like  a  lamp 
above  the  dusky  city.  Old  times  and  old  feelings  —  the  times  and 
feelings  of  youth  —  came  back  upon  me. 

Whitehaven,  April  23d.  —  Came  away  by  coach  to  Whitehaven.     I 
love  the  scenery  of  this  country ;  the  mountains  and  the  sea  are  al- 
ways to  me  full  of  delight.     Reached  Whitehaven.     Mr.  Daly  met 
me,  and  gave  me  promise  of  a  good  house.     Found  at  the  inn,  the 
35 


54G  M.iCREADrS  DIARIES.  1845. 

Black  Lion  —  an  ol J-fashionod  country  inn  —  my  letters  from  Cath- 
erine, Letitia,  Forster,  Miss  Martineau. 

Acted  Hamlet  with  considerable  pains,  but  the  set  around  me  \v<  n- 
enough  to  paralyze  inspiration. 

24th.  —  Walked  on  the  hill  to  the  left  of  the  town  overlooking  the 
harbor  and  the  sea.  There  is  an  excitement  in  the  town  consequent 
on  the  expected  arrival  of  a  new  steamboat,  to  welcome  which  num- 
bers are  crowding  down  to  the  outer  pier.  •  I  enjoyed  in  quickened 
spirits  the  fresh  air  of  the  morning.  What  an  excitable,  susceptible, 
unhappy  being  I  am  !  yet  not  disposed  to  be  so,  but  I  have  made  my- 
self so.  Mr.  Daly  brought  me  the  return  of  last  night.  I  gave  the 
whole  to  him  ;  he  said  it  was  too  much,  more  than  he  had  sacrificed. 
I  gave  it  to  him,  I  thought  it  right. 

Acted  Shylock  as  well  as  I  could  to  a  very,  very  wretched  house. 

25th.  —  Richelieu. 

Belfast,  April  2Vth.  —  Werner.  30th.  —  Virginius.  May  1st. — 
Richelieu.  2d.  —  Macbeth. 

Dumfries.,  May  5th.  —  Hamlet.     Gth. —  Shylock.     7th.—  Richelieu. 

Carlisle,  May  8th  —  A  transit  of  Mercury  over  the  sun.  A  transit 
of  my  unlucky  self  from  Dumfries  to  Carlisle,  from  one  miserably 
paying  town  to  another  ! 

Walked  with  Mr.  Ryder  round  the  Castle.  Acted  Shylock  well  to 
a  very  bad  house,  which  vexed  me  a  little.  Very  much  tired.  Read 
"  Punch."  Shylock. 

Sth.  —  Richelieu. 

London,  May  14th. —  Called  for  Colden ;  went  to  the  Graphic  So- 
ciety. Met  Urwin,  Stone,  Babbage,  Brockedon,  Scharf,  G.  Ward, 
Knight,  T.  Landseer,  etc.  Went  with  Colden  to  Horace  Twiss's.  Saw 
Gurwoods,  Sir  E.  B.  Lytton,  Miss  Herries,  Mrs.  M.  Gibson,  Mrs. 
Kitchener,  Planche,  etc. 

17 'th.  —  Went  to  Babbage's.  Saw  D.  Colden  and  his  friend,  Miss 
Herries,  the  younger,  her  cousin  and  her  husband,  Haworths,  Mrs.  M. 
Gibson,  Harness,  S.  Jervis.  A  lady  accosted  me,  and  asked  me  after 
our  mutual  friend  Dickens.  I  did  not  know  her  ;  returning  home  it 
suddenly  occurred  to  me  it  was  Miss  Coutts.  She  hoped  "  our  ac- 
quaintance might  not  terminate  here."  Met  Sir  R.  Comyn  below,  and 
Bulwer  on  the  stairs. 

24ith.  —  The  Delanes,  the  Chisholm,  M.  Regnier,  Baroness  Eich- 
thal,  Mrs.  Jameson,  Z.  Troughton,  Maclise,  and  Etty  dined  with  us. 

26th.  —  Mr.  Rogers,  Emerson  Tennent,  Tennyson  D'Eyncourt,  Sir 
de  Lacy  Evans,  Sir  John  Wilson,  Eastlake,  Edwin  Landseer,  Monck- 
ton  Mines,  Dr.  Quin,  and  D.  Colden  came  to  dinner.  In  the  even- 
ing several  came :  Fitzgeralds,  the  Chisholm,  Mrs.  Kitchener,  Mrs. 
and  Misses  Stone,  Staudigl,  Miss  M.  Ilawes,  Baroness  Eichthal,  Bab- 
bage, Goldsmids,  Procters,  Troughton,  Mrs.  E.  Tennent  and  Mulhol- 
lands,  Haworths,  Horace  Twisses,  Mrs.  M.  Gibson,  Mrs.  Duncan 
Stewart,  Miss  Rogers,  Miss  Moore,  etc. 

27th.  —  Colden  came  and  went  with  Catherine  and  self  to  take  up 


1845.  7^  THE  PROVINCES.  547 

Regnier  on  our  way  to  Greenwich  ;  the  streets  were  crowded  with  car- 
riages and  spectators  attracted  by  the  Queen's  drawing-room.  "Went 
in  carriage  to  Greenwich.  From  the  Trafalgar  Hotel  went  to  the 
Hospital ;  showed  M.  Regnier  the  hall,  ohapel,  wards ;  we  then  went 
into  the  park  and  enjoyed  the  view  from  the  top  of  the  hill.  The 
Twisses,  Fitzgeralds,  Stanfield,  and  Forster  came  to  dine  with  us. 
Reached  home  about  twelve  o'clock. 

Birmingham,  May  30th.  —  Hamlet. 

Norwich,  June  2d.  —  Hamlet. 

3d.  —  Richelieu. 

5th. — Macbeth.. 

Birmingham,  June  2th.  —  Macbeth. 

Wth.—  Richelieu. 

1  It/i.  —  Virginius. 

12th. —  Brutus. 

I3tk.  —  Lear. 

Worcester,  June  IQth.  —  Hamlet. 

17th.  —  Shylock. 

London,  June  21st.  —  "Went  to  Babbage's,  saw  Rogers,  Brockedon, 
Lyell,  Herries,  Poole,  E.  Teunents,  Procters,  etc.,  Miss  Coutts. 

July  2d.  —  Catherine  and  Willie  both  unwell.  Catherine  could  not 
accompany  me  to  the  Twisses,  where  I  dined  and  met  Bingham  Bar- 
ing, Sir  W.  and  Lady  Molesworth,  Pemberton  Leigh,  Lady  Morgan, 
Lord  Strangford,  Lord  Granville  Somerset,  and  Baron  Alderson.  In 
the  evening  I  saw  the  Misses  Herries,  Mrs.  J.  Delane,  Mrs.  Kitch- 
ener, the  Chisholm,  etc.,  Mrs.  Abel,  the  Miss  Balcombe  of  St. 
Helena,  when  Napoleon  was  there  ;  Sir  E.  Bulwer  Lytton,  Disraeli, 
etc. 

3d.  —  Brewster  called  to  cut  my  hair ;  he  told  me  the  tradesmen 
could  not  get  paid  in  London,  for  all  the  money  was  employed  in  rail- 
roads. "Went  to  Lady  Goldsmid's ;  saw  the  Brockedons,  Hart,  Sir  R. 
"Westmacott,  Ayrton,  Elliotson,  Mrs.  Procter,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bates, 
etc.  The  rooms  were  magnificent. 

4:th.  —  London  to  Ross. 

5th.  —  Went  to  Moumouth  in  chaise.  From  Monmouth  to  The 
Hendre,  where  we  were  received  by  John  Rolls,  etc.,  Edward  and  his 
wife,  and  other  guests.  Walked  in  the  garden. 

7th.  —  Went  to  Monmouth.  Saw  the  castle  where  Henry.  V.  was 
born.  Proceeded  to  Tintern.  The  drive  along  the  banks  of  the  Wye 
was  beautiful.  The  river  was  unluckily  discolored  by  the  fresh  which 
the  rains  had  brought  down  ;  but  the  hills,  fields,  and  trees  were  beau- 
tiful. Passed  the  hill  on  which  is  a  may-pole,  where  the  custom  is 
still  preserved,  of  dancing  round  it  on  the  first  of  May.  Went  to  the 
Wynd  Cliff,  and  from  the  summit  enjoyed  one  of  the  most  extensive 
prospects  in  England. 

10th.  —  Went  in  carriage  to  Monmouth  with  the  whole  party. 
Purchased  tickets,  called  on  Braham  at  the  inn,  saw  him,  now  old 
Braham,  little  changed  except  in  years,  he  was  glad  to  see  me ;  we 


548  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1845. 

talked,  of  course,  of  theaters,  and  he  told  me  the  price  of  the  St. 
James's.  I  saw  his  sons.  Went  to  his  concert ;  heard  him  sing  with 
all  the  energy  of  his  maturity ;  a  slight  deficiency  observable  in  his 
enunciation,  which  is  not  always  quite  clear. 

Colchester,  July  l±th.  —  Hamlet. 

15th.  —  Richelieu. 

Ipswich,  July  16th.  —  Hamlet. 

17th.  —  Richelieu. 

London,  July  30th.  —  Dined  with  Lord  Lansdowne ;  met  Mrs.  Nor- 
ton, Charles  Buller,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Milman,  Bulwer  Lytton,  Sir  James 
Kay  Shuttleworth,  etc.  The  conversation  turned  much  upon  America, 
and  I  liked  the  people  I  met.  I  was  glad  that  I  went  there.  What 
luxury,  what  elegance,  what  wealth  of  art ! 

JZastbourne,  August  4<A.  —  Walked  on  the  beach  with  the  boys,  en- 
joying the  fresh  strong  breeze  and  the  playfulness  of  my  dear  little 
fellows.  The  morning  was  consumed  with  verses  and  Greek ;  and  in 
lessons  of  Italian  and  French  to  Nina  and  Katie. 

Walked  out  with  Catherine  to  Sea  House ;  purchased  book  for 
Willie ;  walked  on  to  top  of  hill  and  down  to  Eastbourne.  In  the 
evening,  read  with  the  children  Wordsworth  and  Thomson.  Read  in 
Bloxam's  "  Gothic  Architecture." 

To  St.  Holier1  s,  Auyust  9th.  —  To  F.  Reynolds. 

llth.  —  Macbeth. 

12th.  —  Continued  my  reading  of  Pope,  with  the  intention  of  pre- 
paring an  edition  for  my  dear  children. 

13th.  —  Othello. 

15th.  —  Acted  Hamlet  with  ease,  but  I  think  I  did  not  begin  it 
with  the  requisite  earnestness  and  reality,  and  that  the  earlier  part 
was  deficient  in  energy.  In  the  play  and  closet  scene  I  thought 
myself  very  successful ;  I  used  the  night  as  one  of  study  and  took 
great  pains,  but,  oh,  what  pains  are  not  required  to  arrive  at  any- 
thing like  a  satisfactory  performance  of  one  of  Shakespeare's  charac- 
ters. 

Southampton,  August  18th.  —  Hamlet. 

Stamford,  August  22d.  —  Lotoked  at  subjects  for  a  letter  to  Nina, 
and  marked  Pope.  I  never  considered  before  how  little  he  wrote 
to  make  so  great  a  reputation,  and  how  tender  he  was  of  it.  Look 
at  authors,  and  then  revile  the  poor  player — the  insect  of  an  hour  — 
for  his  unhappiness  at  the  obscuration  of  his  little  fame  !  Acted 
Cardinal  Richelieu  indifferently  ;  baffled,  plagued,  and  put  out  by  the 
people. 

Peterborough,  August  23d.  —  Hamlet. 

Yarmouth,  August  25th.  —  Hamlet. 

26th.  —  Richelieu. 

28^.  —  Macbeth. 

Norwich,  August  29th.  —  Richelieu. 

30th.  —  Werner. 

London,  September  1st.  —  Forster  informed  me  that  Messrs.  Brad- 


1845.  DEATH  OF  JUSTICE  STORY.  549 

bury  and  Evans  promised  to  print  my  expurgated  Pope's  works 
for  me,  but  added  that,  if  I  would  put  a  preface  to  it  they  would 
publish  it  and  Shakespeare,  Milton,  and  Dryden  on  the  same  plan, 
at  their  own  risk,  giving  me  a  share  of  the  profits.  I  was  pleased 
with  the  idea. 

Birmingham,  September  5th.  —  "  Stranger." 

Birmingham  to  Liverpool,  September  Qth.  —  Rose  very  early  to  get 
my  bath  and  start  from  the  railway  at  six  o'clock,  which  I  did,  for 
Liverpool.  On  my  way  I  read  over  attentively  Bowdler's  version  of 
"  Othello,"  with  which  I  was  (of  course,  having  to  do  another)  not 
satisfied  —  unnecessary  omissions,  and  improper  passages,  I  thought, 
continued ;  but  I  may  be  as  wrong  as  I  suppose  him. 

Liverpool,  September  7th.  —  Finished  the  extraction  of  coarse  pas- 
sages and  expressions  from  "  Othello,"  and  began  the  copy  for  the 
printers. 

8th.  —  It  has  occurred  to  me,  and  is  an  idea  that  I  am  disposed  to 
adopt  as  a  theory,  that  it  is  sufficiently  improbable  to  be  spoken  of  in 
common  parlance  as  an  impossibility  that  any  educated  woman  —  or 
rather,  I  should  say,  any  fashionably  educated  woman,  any  one  brought 
up  with  an  express  view  to  figure  in  society  —  can  ever  become  a  great 
or  good  tragic  actress.  All  they  are  taught  for  their  own  particular 
role  goes  to  extinguish  the  materials  out  of  which  an  actress  is 
formed — acquaintance  with  the  passions  —  the  feelings  common  to 
all,  and  indulged  and  expressed  with  comparative  freedom  in  a  poorer 
condition  of  life,  but  subjugated,  restrained,  and  concealed  by  high-bred 
persons. 

9th.  —  Richelieu. 

IQth. —  Macbeth. 

llth.  —  Virginius. 

12th.  —  Lear. 

15th.  —  Macbeth. 

1 6th.  —  Richelieu. 

17th.  —  Lear. 

18th.  —  Looked  over  —  what  I  could  not  read  —  a  play  on  Cat- 
aline.  Surely  he  has  paid  the  penalty  of  his  conspiracy  and  all  other 
offenses  in  what  he  has  endured  from  authors  —  Croty  has  dealt  with 
him,  etc. 

Acted  Brutus  very  unsatisfactorily ;  I  really  strove,  was  often, 
not  always,  self-possessed,  but  did  not  seem  at  all  in  possession  of 
the  audience.  I  thought  that  my  own  animation  contrasted  with 
the  tameness  of  Cassius,  except  in  the  quarrel  scene,  when  he  was 
very  energetic ;  but  the  house  did  not  seem  to  give  me  their  sympa- 
thy. 

19th.  —  Hamlet. 

.  London,  September  29/A.  —  A  newspaper  from  America,  directed 
by  Charles  Sumner,  which  I  joyfully  opened ;  to  be*  struck  down 
with  anguish  in  reading  at  the  head  of  a  column  "  Funeral  of  Mr. 
Justice  Story"  That  great  and  good  man  —  that  dear  and  revered 


550  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1845. 

and  inestimable  friend  is  taken  from  us  !  God's  will  be  done.  But 
how  the  cords  that  bind  us  to  life  are  rapidly  loosening  —  one  is  here 
snapped. 

Wrote  to  Charles  Sumner  on  dear  Judge  Story's  death —  Vale! 
Amice  dilecte  et  reverende  —  vale!  vale! 

Leicester,  September  30th.  —  Hamlet. 

October  1st.  —  Called  on  Thomas  and  Colin  Macaulay.  Saw  both, 
and  old  Mrs.  M.  They  were  glad  to  see  me.  Acted  Cardinal  Rich- 
elieu tolerably  well ;  obliged  to  go  on  to  the  audience. 

3d.  —  Macbeth. 

London,  October  13th.  —  Acted  Hamlet,  fairly,  but  my  strength 
failed  me,  though  not,  I  think,  to  be  perceived,  in  the  closet  scene. 
The  reception  which  the  audience  gave  me  was  something  quite  of  it- 
self; the  only  instance  to  which  it  can  be  at  all  likened,  though  in  a 
smaller  theater,  was  my  last  night  at  Drury  Lane,  which  was  awful. 
But  this,  both  at  the  entrance  and  upon  the  call,  was  quite  a  thing  by 
itself.  Maddox  came  and  thanked  me.1 

18th.  —  Dined  with  Horace  Twiss;  met  Mrs.  Milner  Gibson,  the 
Holmes,  John  Delanes,  Fonblanque,  Clayton,  Mrs.  Kitchener,  the 
Chisholm.  Spent  a  very  agreeable  day. 

John  Delane  told  me,  that  during  the  last  fortnight,  they  had  re- 
ceived at  "  The  Times  "  office,  an  average  of  about  a  dozen  letters  per 
diem  relative  to  my  return  to  London. 

19th.  —  Forster  came  in  to  tea,  and  informed  us  that  Bradbury  and 
Evans,  with  Paxton,  Duke  of  Devonshire's  agent,  and  another  capital- 
ist, a  Birmingham  man,  had  agreed  on  starting  a  daily  paper  on  a  very 
large  scale,  and  that  Dickens  was  to  be  at  the  head  of  it.  Forster 
was  to  have  some  share  in  it,  and  it  was  instantly  to  be  got  into  train 
for  starting.  I  heard  the  news  with  a  sort  of  dismay,  not  feeling  my- 
self, nor  seeing  in  others,  the  want  of  such  a  thing.  I  fear  the  means 
and  chances  have  not  been  well  enough  considered.  I  hope  and  pray 
all  may  go  well  with  and  for  them. 

21st.  —  Fox,  Dickens,  Maclise,  Stanfield,  Douglas  Jerrold,  Forster, 
Mark  Lemon,  Z.  Troughton,  and  Leech  dined  with  us. 

2Gth. —  Forster  came  to  dinner;  he  urged  upon  me  giving  per- 
mission to  my  family  to  see  me  act.  I  do  not  know ;  I  have  a  feel- 
ing about  their  seeing  me  as  a  player.  Perhaps  I  am  wrong. 

"28th.  —  Brewster  called  about  my  wigs,  etc.  Murray  called  and  ex- 
pressed himself  very  anxious  to  make  an  engagement  with  me  for 
Edinburgh ;  we  made  one,  the  first  fortnight  in  March :  terms,  share 
nine  nights  after  £20,  divide  equally  the  three  best,  twelve  in  all. 

Read  over  again  the  play  of  "  The  King  of  the  Commons,"  liked  it 
much  on  second  perusal.  Wrote  at  length  to  White 2  upon  both. 
Heard  the  children  read  and  play.  Read  "  Othello,"  and  looked  over 
"  King  Lear." 

1  Macrcady  was  now  engaged  at  the  Princess's  Theater  from  this  date  to  the 
21st  November,  1845.  —  ED. 
*  Rev.  James  White,  of  Bonchurch,  Isle  of  Wight.  —  ED. 


1845.  THE  SIDDONS  STATUE.  551 

November  15th.  —  Went  to  the  amateur  play  at  the  St.  James's  Thea- 
ter. As  an  amateur  performance  it  is  exceedingly  good,  but  this  com- 
mendation is  held  of  on  account  with  the  actors,  and  they  desire  to  be 
judged  on  positive  grounds.  Judged  therefore  by  the  poet  and  by  the 
art,  by  what  the  one  affords  the  opportunity  of  being  done,  and  what 
the  other  enables  the  actor  to  do,  the  performance  would  not  be  en- 
dured from  ordinary,  or  rather,  regular  actors  by  a  paying  audience. 
They  seem  to  me  to  be  under  a  perfect  delusion  as  to  their  degrees  of 
skill  and  power  in  this  art,  of  which  they  do  not  know  what  may  be 
called  the  very  rudiments. 

18^. —  Called  on  Campbell,  saw  the  Siddons  statue.  He  wanted 
£500.  I  told  him  I  could  not  say  anything  to  that,  but  that  I  would 
be  responsible  for  the  £400,  and  if  1  could  get  him  more  I  would. 
He  was  satisfied.  Called  on  Holloway  and  ordered  a  framed  print 
of  self  for  Calcraft.  Went  to  Smith's  for  almanacs.  Called  on  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Chitty,  on  John  Birch,  on  Lady  Blessington  ;  heard  from  the 
servant  of  Lady  Canterbury's  death.  Sir  G.  and  Miss  Burgoyne 
called  and  sat  a  little  while.  White  dined  with  us,  and  after  dinner  I 
went  over  the  subject  of  his  "  Feudal  Times,"  unsparingly  laying  open 
to  him  the  defects  of  his  plan,  and  discussing  the  subject  thoroughly. 
1  %th.  —  Lear. 

21st. — Acted  Hamlet  as  well,  or  better,  than  I  ever  did.  Was 
called  for  and  enthusiastically  received;  and  thus  ends  this  brilliant 
engagement. 

Dublin,  November  24th.  —  Hamlet. 
26^.  — Othello. 
27th.  —  Werner. 
2Wi.  —  Lear. 
December  1st.  —  Macbeth. 
2d.  —  Hamlet. 

3d.  —  Acted  Virginius,  in  my  own  opinion,  remarkably  well.     The 
house  was  not  good,  as  I  had  anticipated  ;  the  audience  very  unlike 
the  old  fervent  tumultuous  Dublin  audience  ;  but  they  were,  I  think, 
moved.     I  think  I  never  acted  the  part  so  decidedly  from  strong  in- 
stantaneous feeling.     The  thought  of  my  own  dear  child  was  often 
present  to  me,  and  more  than  once  the  tears  streamed  down  my 
cheeks.     After  the  play  sent  for  Mrs.  Ternan,  and  asked  to  see  her 
little  gifted  girl,  who,  I  saw,  was  in  the  theater  —  a  very  sweet  child. 
4:th.  —  Lear. 
6th.  —  Richelieu. 
8th.  —  Virginius. 
9th.  —  Macbeth. 
10th. — Werner. 
llth.  —  Richelieu. 
12th. — "Stranger." 
13^.  —  Macbeth. 
15th.  —  Brutus. 
Belfast,  December  17th.  —  Werner. 


552  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1846. 

18th.  —  Virginias. 

1 9^.  _«  Stranger." 

Belfast  to  Dublin,  December  20th.  —  Hamlet. 

London,  December  31s/.  —  The  year  ends.  I  am  another  step 
nearer  to  my  grave  ;  many  friends  in  this  year  have  gone  before  me. 
Many  mercies  of  God  have  been  vouchsafed  to  me ;  my  heart  bows 
down  with  gratitude  for  what  is  given,  with  submission  for  what  is 
taken  away.  I  bless  His  name  for  what  is  past,  and  implore  his 
heavenly  aid  and  mercy  to  make  happy  and  holy  my  life  to  come. 
Amen. 


1846. 

January  kth.  —  Arrived  at  Exeter,  and  came  to  the  lodgings  taken 
for  me. 

5th.  —  "Went  to  the  theater,  resolved,  however  bad  the  house  might 
be,  to  act  for  myself  and  as  a  study.  Acted  Macbeth  very  fairly  in 
part. 

6th.  —  Sat  down  to  read  over  what  remained  to  be  done  of  Pope  ; 
read  all  the  essays,  satires,  epistles,  etc.,  and  finished  the  notes  I  had 
to  copy  in.  This  occupied  me  the  entire  day,  which  I  gave  up  to  it ; 
I  have  now  to  make  up  a  fair  copy  book  for  the  printer,  but  the  work 
is  done. 

7th.  —  Hamlet. 

9th.  —  Werner. 

Plymouth,  January  llth.  — Wightwick  called  for  me  and  we  went 
together  to  Colonel  Hamilton  Smith's,  where  we  dined.  We  had  a 
very  delightful  talk,  the  old  colonel  going  into  the  question  of  races, 
dates,  events,  like  a  good-humored  and  most  social  talking  cyclopedia  ; 
after  dinner  he  turned  over  drawings  for  me  of  costume,  etc.,  most 
interesting.1  I  was  pleased  to  see  a  book,  "  Report  of  the  Highland 
Society,"  authenticating  at  least  much,  if  not  all,  of  the  translation 
Macpherson  has  given  to  the  world  as  of  "  Ossian's  Poems." 

12th.  —  Hamlet. 

13th.  —  Richelieu. 

15th.  —  Othello. 

1  Qth.  —  Werner. 

19th.  —  Macbeth. 

21st.  —  Virginius. 

Exeter,  January  22d.  —  Richelieu. 

London,  January  2Gth.  —  Looked  at  "  Daily  News,"  not  liking  the 
leading  article  in  its  abuse  of  PeeL  I  cannot  understand  the  sense  of 
men  who  wish  persons  to  think  and  act  in  a  certain  way,  and  when 
they  do  so  abuse  them  for  it.  Acted  King  Lear  at  Princess's  Theater. 

1  Colonel  Hamilton  Smith  supplied  Macready  with  much  valuable  information 
on  points  of  costume,  heraldry,  history,  and  scenery,  illustrated  by  colored  draw- 
ing taken  from  a  great  variety  of  sources.  —  ED. 


1846.  FORREST'S  HISS  AT  EDINBURGH.  553 

February  25th. — Dined  with  Kenyon.  Met  the  Procters,  Long- 
mans, Mrs.  Jameson,  Babbage,  Eastlake,  Panizzi ;  in  the  evening, 
Boxall,  Scharf. 

27th. —  Acted  Cardinal  Richelieu  well.  Was  warmly  greeted.  Last 
night  of  engagement  at  Princess's  Theater. 

28th.  —  Left  home  for  Edinburgh. 

Edinburgh,  March  2d.  —  Acted  Hamlet  really  with  particular  care, 
energy,  and  discrimination  ;  the  audience  gave  less  applause  to  the 
first  soliloquy  than  I  am  in  the  habit  of  receiving,  but  I  was  bent  on 
acting  the  part,  and  I  felt,  if  I  can  feel  at  all,  that  I  had  strongly 
excited  them,  and  that  their  sympathies  were  cordially,  indeed,  enthu- 
siastically, with  me.  On  reviewing  the  performance  I  can  conscien- 
tiously pronounce  it  one  of  the  very  best  I  have  given  of  Hamlet.  At 
the  waving  of  the  handkerchief  before  the  play,  and  "  I  must  be  idle," 
a  man  on  the  right  side  of  the  stage  —  upper  boxes  or  gallery,  but 
said  to  be  upper  boxes  —  hissed  !  The  audience  took  it  up,  and  I 
waved  the  more,  and  bowed  derisively  and  contemptuously  to  the 
individual.  The  audience  carried  it,  though  he  was  very  stanch  to 
his  purpose.  It  discomposed  me,  and,  alas,  might  have  ruined  many ; 
but  I  bore  it  down.  I  thought  of  speaking  to  the  audience,  if  called 
on,  and  spoke  to  Murray  about  it,  but  he  very  discreetly  dissuaded  me. 
Was  called  for,  and  very  warmly  greeted.  Ryder  came  and  spoke  to 
me,  and  told  me  that  the  hisser  was  observed,  and  said  to  be  a  Mr. 

W ,  who  was  in  company  with  Mr.  Forrest !  The  man  writes  in 

the  "  Journal,"  a  paper,  depreciating  me  and  eulogizing  Mr.  F.,  sent  to 
me  from  this  place. 

3d.  —  Fifty-three  years  have  I  lived,  to-day.  Both  Mr.  Murray  and 
Mr.  Ryder  are  possessed  with  the  belief  that  Mr.  Forrest  was  the  man 
who  hissed  last  night.  I  begin  to  think  he  was  the  man. 

4th.  —  Acted  King  Lear,  to  a  very  middling,  house  (they  will  not 
come  to  see  me  here)  which  was  cold  in  the  extreme ;  there  were  a 
few  persons  that  seemed  to  understand  me,  but  it  is  slaughterous  work 
to  act  these  characters  to  these  audiences. 

6th.  —  Acted  Othello  with  all  the  care  and  energy  I  could  summon 
up.  The  house  of  course  was  bad,  but  I  would  not  give  in.  The  au- 
dience seemed  really  to  yield  themselves  to  full  sympathy  with  the 
performance  from  the  first  to  the  last.  They  called  for  me,  and 
cheered  me  very  enthusiastically. 

7th.  —  Acted  Werner  with  much  care  and  very  fairly.  Was  called 
for,  and  very  warmly  received.  Sir  William  Allan  came  into  my 
room. 

8th.  —  Called  on  Captain  Rutherfurd,  whom,  as  well  as  Mrs.  Ruther- 
furd,  I  like  extremely  ;  they  seem  people  of  heart.  Called  at  Lord 
Jeffrey's ;  sat  with  Mrs.  Jeffrey.  He  came  in,  and  talked  for  some 
time. 

Dined  with  Professor  Napier.  Met  Rutherfurd,  Professor  Wilson, 
Lord  Robertson  (Falstaff  redivivus),  etc. 

$tk.  —  Read   Dickens' s  letter  on  "  Capital  Punishment,"  which  I 


554  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1846. 

thought  very  good  ;  but  the  question  arises  to  me,  is  not  the  mischief 
in  the  publicity  of  the  punishment,  and  not  in  the  punishment  itself? 
Acted  Hamlet. 

10th.  —  Called  and  left  card  at  Cadell's,  on  Major  and  Mrs.  Moir, 
on  McClaren  ;  saw  Hunter,  and  sat  with  him  some  time  ;  he  gave  me 
an  etching  of  Claude's.  Called  and  left  card  on  Dr.  Alison  ;  saw  Lord 
Murray  and  his  family;  sat  with  him  some  time.  Called  and  left 
card  on  Lord  Fullerton,  on  Mayne,  on  Miss  Hunter  Blair,  on  Profes- 
sor and  Miss  Napier ;  called  and  sat  with  Captain  and  Mrs.  Ruther- 
furd,  who  lent  me  the  "  Daily  News,"  with  Dickens's  three  letters. 

Dined  with  Rutherfurd.  Mrs.  R.  and  Mrs.  Captain  R.,  Mrs.  Gor- 
don, Lord  Cockburn,  Gordon,  Professor  Wilson,  and  some  others  were 
there.  I  enjoyed  the  day.  The  chief  subject  was  poetry,  and  Ruther- 
furd asked  me  to  repeat  the  beginning  of  Dryden's  first  ode,  "  From 
Harmony,"  which  I  did.  He  repeated  some  very  striking  lines  of  Mr. 
Lyte's.  I  liked  Lord  Cockburn  extremely  and  Wilson  very  much.  I 
hope  they  may  have  liked  their  afternoon  as  well  as  I  did.  Went 
with  Rutherfurd  to  Lord  Jeffrey's.  Met  there  Lord  Murray,  Lord 
Moncrieff,  some  other  law  Lord,  Lord  Cockburn,  Mr.  Fletcher,  Miss 
Ogle,  Miss  Rigby,  Haydon,  etc.  Mr.  Gordon  gave  me  a  ticket  for  the 
Waverley  Ball,  but  I  could  not  encounter  the  loneliness  of  the  crowd. 
Read  paper. 

llth.  —  Acted  Cardinal  Richelieu  with  all  the  pains  I  could.  Called 
for.  The  house  was  not  any  improvement  on  what  has  been,  and  with 
to-night  my  hopes  of  emendation  die  out. 

Edinburgh  is  lost  to  me  as  a  place  of  income,  a  circumstance  very 
much  to  be  regretted  by  myself,  and  one  I  have  striven  against,  un- 
availingly  it  seems  ;  I  have  not  talent,  or  the  people  have  not  taste  to 
appreciate  me,  it  is  of  little  moment  now  which ;  my  life  is  near  its 
close  —  I  will  not  go  on. 

12th.  —  Acted  King  Lear  in  many  respects  well ;  was  called  for  and 
well  received.  Allan  came  into  my  room,  much  pleased. 

13th.  —  Read  "  The  Times,"  a  paragraph  in  it  mentioning  the  cir- 
cumstance of  my  first  night  here,  quoting  from  "  The  Scotsman,"  and 
adding,  "  the  person  supposed  is  Mr.  Forrest,  an  American  actor ! " 
Acted  Macbeth. 

14th.  —  Called  on  Sir  William  Allan  and  looked  at  his  pictures. 
Kind  and  interesting  old  man. 

Acted  Virginius  as  well  as  I  could,  under  some  embarrassment 
about  my  dress.  The  audience  now  seems  growing  into  enthusiasm. 
Called  for. 

15th.  —  Called  a  little  before  one  o'clock  on  Rutherfurd,  who  took 
me  out  in  his  carriage  to  his  country  seat  of  Lauriston,  a  truly  charm- 
ing place,  built  up  from  and  about  an  old  square  keep  with  corner- 
round  turrets,  standing  in  ground  very  tastefully  laid  out  and  planted, 
and  commanding  a  view  of  the  Firth,  Inchkeith,  the  Ochills,  the 
Lomonds  of  Fife,  and  altogether  presenting  scenes  of  the  richest  beauty 
on  whatever  side  you  turn  ;  the  house  is  most  elegant  and  convenient, 


1846.  HOLYROOD  HOUSE.  555 

with  a  select  —  indeed,  I  should  say,  a  splendid  —  library  ;  it  is  a 
charming  place.  How  happy  the  proprietor,  with  fame,  fortune,  a 
profession,  a  seat  in  his  country's  legislature  —  all  to  make  life  enjoy- 
able !  He  seems  to  use  all  well.  I  looked  over  several  of  his  books ; 
on  our  return  we  walked  into  the  grounds  of  Lord  Jeffrey's  seat,  a 
very  pretty  house,  and  commanding  from  the  high  ground  a  very  fine 
view  of  Edinburgh.  Arrived  at  home  I  read  Dickens's  two  last  letters, 
and  slept  in  my  chair  about  half  an  hour  from  weariness.  Dined  with 
Rutherfurd. 

16th.  —  Acted  Hamlet,  I  should  say  in  a  very  finished  manner,  of 
course  I  mean  comparing  myself  with  myself ;  but  I  was  forcible,  pos- 
sessed of  the  full  poetry  of  the  part,  and  refined  in  manner. 

17th. —  Acted  Macbeth  with  all  the  desire  and  all  the  effort  to  do 
it  well,  but  the  inspiration  was  absent,  and  I  met  with  several  contre- 
temps, my  hair-dresser  drunk  and  impertinent,  and  some  things  of  a 
similar  kind  to  disturb  my  mind,  so  that  I  was  really  not  in  possession 
of  myself.  1  was  very  much  dissatisfied  with  myself;  the  perform- 
ance was  very  unlike  that  of  last  night. 

The  engagement  is  over,  and  for  the  same  number  of  nights,  over  a 
more  extended  period,  it  returns  me  the  same,  or  less  amount,  than  I 
received  here  twenty-one  years  ago  on  much  less  favorable  terms,  and 
under  the  disadvantage  of  very  bad  weather.  I  was  then  abused  and 
attractive  ;  I  am  now  admitted,  at  last,  to  be  a  great  artist,  yet  regardez 
tepreuve. 

18tk. —  Called  on  Captain  Rutherfurd;  wrote  at  his  house  a  letter 
or  note  of  answer  to  Mrs.  Alison.  Went  with  Captain  Rutherfurd  to 
Holyrood  House.  How  I  recollect  the  exciting  disturbing  enthusiasm 
with  which,  thirty-three  years  ago,  I  first  entered  and  walked  through 
the  court  and  rooms  of  this  building ;  I  fancied  the  scenes  as  lately 
acted.  I  saw  the  characters  of  those  sad,  those  highly  tragic  and  romantic 
scenes,  the  needlework  of  Mary,  the  splendor  of  the  bed  (alas!),  the 
armor  of  Darnley,  the  closet,  the  blood,  all  were  real  things  invested 
with  ideas  of  faded  splendor,  of  awe,  and  mystery  to  me,  that  I  well 
recollect  haunted  me  with  thoughts  of  deep  melancholy  the  whole  day 
through.  How  changed  with  years  that  bring  the  philosophic  mind. 
How  light  and  pleasing  the  gentle  interest  I  had  in  walking  through 
those  rooms  to-day,  and  pondering  on  the  same  persons  and  events  ! 

Dined  with  Lord  Robertson ;  met  Colonel  Ogilvie,  Clift,  Lockhart, 
brother  to  J.  G.  L.,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gordon,  Miss  Rigby,  Miss  Sinclair, 
Mr.  Moir,  etc. 

20th.  —  Set  out  for  Arthur's  Seat,  walked  round  the  hill  and  under 
the  crags  of  the  cliff,  passed  the  Chapel  of  St.  Anthony,  taking  in  by 
turns  a  series  of  views,  mountain,  city,  sea,  and  lake  that,  in  so  small 
a  compass  and  so  near  a  large  town,  are  unequaled  perhaps  in  the 
world.  Very  kind  note  from  Professor  Wilson  ;  answered  it.  Dined 
with  Sir  William  Allan.  Met  Lord  Cockburn,  Noel  Paten,  Mr.  Hill, 
Wilson's  brother,  Mrs.  Crowe,  author  of  "  Susan  Hopley,"  Misses 
Rigby,  etc. 


556  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1846. 

21  st.  —  Called  at  theater  and  got  my  money  from  Murray,  £340 
2*.  6rf.  Called  and  lunched  with  Captain  and  Mrs.  Rutherford. 
Called  on  Professor  Napier,  whom  I  saw  and  sat  with  ;  on  Lord  and 
Lady  Murray,  not  at  home  ;  on  Dr.  Alison,  saw  Mrs.  A.,  liked  her ; 
on  Mrs.  Ogle,  took  leave  of  her  and  Miss  Ogle. 

22rf.  —  Letter  from  dearest  Catherine,  inclosing  one  from  dear 
Willie,1  with  an  account  of  the  shipwreck  of  a  Boston  vessel  with 
German  emigrants,  the  ship's  company  and  crew,  130,  bound  to 
Texas.  It  made  my  heart  bleed,  and  my  eyes  overflow  in  even  think- 
ing of  it  I  was  glad  that  he  should  be  a  witness  if  such  scenes  must 
occur,  hoping  the  sight  of  them,  with  the  devotion  of  those  around 
him,  and  the  first  duties  of  humanity,  would  at  once  soften  his  heart 
and  strengthen  his  hands.  God  bless  him. 

Called  on  Rutherfurd,  who  took  me  out  in  an  open  carnage — • 
rather  sharp  work  —  to  Bonally  the  country  seat  of  Lord  Cockburn. 
The  place  is  a  square  tower  or  keep,  built  by  Playfair,  at  the  very 
foot  of  the  Pentland  Hills,  commanding  the  most  charming  view  of 
Edinburgh,  the  Firth,  the  neighboring  hills,  those  of  Fife  and  the 
western  mountains ;  it  is  beautiful.  The  house  is  very  agreeable. 
Mrs.  Cockburn  and  her  three  daughters,  with  a  distant  relation,  a  boy, 
were  our  breakfast  party  and  very  pleasant.  After  breakfast  we 
walked  about  the  grounds  and  the  time  flew  rapidly  to  our  departure. 
Lord  Cockburn  was  most  kind  in  his  wish  that  I  might  return,  and  in 
his  voluntary  promise  to  see  me  in  London.  Our  views  home  were 
charming.  Took  leave  of  the  Rutherfurds.  Found  a  kind  note  from 
Glassford  Bell,  and  presently  saw  himself  on  his  route  to  the  north. 

23d.  —  Rose  very  early  for  my  departure,  paid  all  my  bills,  made 
gratuities,  etc.,  and  set  out  in  the  coach  from  Edinburgh ;  looked  at 
the  beauty  of  the  city  as  I  passed  the  High  Bridge ;  was  very  drowsy 
through  the  morning's  journey.  Reached  Galashiels,  where  1  got  out- 
side another,  the  Chevy  Chase,  which  carried  me  to  Melrose.  The 
country,  particularly  the  Eildon  Hills  and  the  rapid  course  of  the 
Tweed,  interested  me.  Found  myself  in  a  most  uncomfortable  inn 
at  Melrose,  the  people  on  the  point  of  retiring  from  business,  by  which 
I  was  so  disgusted  that  I  decided  on  leaving  it  as  soon  as  I  could. 
Saw  the  Abbey,  the  best  and  richest  specimen  of  the  pointed  Gothic 
I  have  seen  in  Scotland  ;  much  of  the  ornamental  carving  is  of  ex- 
quisite finish :  the  east  window  and  that  of  the  south  transept  are  very 
beautiful.  William  of  Deloraine  and  the  old  monks  were  present  to 
my  mind  as  I  looked  on  the  stone  in  the  corner  with  the  cross,  pointed 
out  as  Michael  Scott's.  I  was  not  in  the  best  sight-seeing  humor,  but 
there  was  a  great  deal  to  interest  and  to  please.  Went  in  an  open 
carriage  to  Dryburgh  Abbey ;  the  different  views  of  the  Eildon  Hills 
are  remarkably  grand  and  beautiful,  particularly  that  looking  up  the 
Tweed,  from  the  bank  of  the  Ferry  on  the  Dryburgh  side ;  at  Dry- 
burgh  the  building  itself  is  so  broken  to  pieces  that  little  idea  can  be 

1  Then  with  a  private  tutor  at  Berryhead,  near  Brixham,  on  the  south  coast  of 
Devonshire.  —  ED. 


1846.  THE  TOY  MERCHANT.  557 

formed  of  its  complete  effect.  The  grave  of  Sir  "Walter  Scott  and  his 
wife,  without  a  stone  over  it,  is  in  a  small  chapel — it  is  Scott's,  and 
therefore  of  deep  interest.  Dined  at  Melrose,  wrote  to  dear  Catherine, 
and  set  out  for  Selkirk,  stopping  at  Abbotsford,  the  most  disagreeable 
exhibition  I  have  almost  ever  seen,  itself  the  suicidal  instrument  of 
his  fate,  and  monument  of  his  vanity  and  indiscretion.  We  must  not, 
least  of  all  must  I,  reproach  any  one  for  extravagance  or  precipitation. 
Everything  seems  as  if  he  had  died  last  week,  and,  in  the  worst  pos- 
sible taste,  they  show  the  clothes  he  last  wore.  Mrs.  Purday  came  out 
to  show  me  her  house,  etc.  Came  on  to  Selkirk ;  placed  in  a  room 
where  for  two  hours  I  could  not  take  off  my  great  coat,  the  drafts 
are  terrible.  Wrote  to  dearest  Nina. 

24th.  —  Paid  my  bill,  and  left  Selkirk  by  the  Edinburgh  coach  for 
Carlisle  ;  passed  through  the  wild  interesting  border-land  of  the  Scotts 
and  Kerrs,  Armstrongs,  Elliots,  etc. ;  had  watched  the  swelling  of  the 
silvery  Tweed  the  day  before,  and  this  afternoon  observed  the  rapid 
rushing  into  strength  and  magnitude  of  the  turbid  Esk;  passed  the 
Branksome  Tower,  Langholm.  Saw  again  Johnnie  Armstrong's 
Tower,  Cannobie  Lea,  etc.,  and  the  beautiful  estate  of  Netherby. 
Who  will  speak  against  luck  in  this  world !  Is  there  no  luck  in 
the  Duke  of  Buccleugh,  Graham,  etc.  —  or  is  it  not  all  luck?  A 
lady  in  the  coach  asked  me  if  she  had  not  the  "  honor  "  of  traveling 
with  Mr.  Macready  ;  I  did  not  know  her. 

25tk.  —  Paid  my  bill  and  left  Carlisle  by  an  early  train  to  Working- 
ton,  where  I  waited  for  the  mail.  In  it  I  found  one  man  and  a  sickly- 
looking  deformed  boy,  with  a  very  gentle  expression  of  countenance, 
who  seemed  very  anxious  to  oblige,  and  was  naturally  polite  in  his 
manner.  He  begged  me  to  put  my  bag  upon  his  oilskin-covered 
basket,  assuring  me,  there  was  "  nothing  to  hurt,  only  a  few  toys." 
The  man  told  me  he  was  "  a  toy  merchant,  and  went  from  one  of  the 
neighboring  towns  to  another  with  his  little  stock  of  merchandise, 
which  people  bought  from  him  to  help  him  on ! "  My  heart  was 
touched  by  the  poor  little  fellow's  appearance  and  manner.  He 
opened  his  little  basket,  from  which  I  took  a  small  wooden  pear, 
a  musical  pear  as  he  explained  and  showed  me.  I  gave  him  half  a 
crown  for  it,  and  he  was  going  to  offer  me  change,  but  I  stopped  him. 
The  man  told  me  an  instance  of  his  honesty,  which  pleased  me  much ; 
he  further  informed  me  that,  when  a  child,  he  had  broken  his  back 
and  was,  in  consequence,  thus  deformed.  I  could  with  difficulty  re- 
strain my  tears  in  looking  at  and  thinking  of  him.  He  told  me  of 
people  who  were  "  very  kind  "  to  him.  The  man  told  me  afterwards 
he  was  nineteen  years  of  age,  not  looking  twelve.  I  gave  him  another 
half  a  crown  as  he  got  out  at  Cockermouth,  and  the  interesting  creature 
shook  hands  with  me  as  he  went.  God  bless  thee,  my  heart  most 
heartily  prayed.  Storms  of  rain  and  hail  through  the  morning ; 
admired  what  I  saw  of  the  lake  scenes,  Bassenthwaite,  Keswick, 
Grasmere,  Rydal,  and  Windermere  ;  they  are  very  beautiful,  but  they 
are  not  equal  to  what  I  have  seen  elsewhere.  Read  David1  (of 
1  Pierre  Jean  David,  an  eminent  French  sculptor,  born  at  Angiers.  —  ED. 


558  AIACREADTS  DIARIES.  1840. 

Angers)  on  Thorwaldsen,  with  whom  (David)  I  do  not  at  all  agree. 
Saw  a  brown-faced  looking  woman  watching  for  the  coach,  thought  I 
knew  the  face,  looked  out  of  window,  it  was  Miss  Martineau.  She 
came  to  the  inn  (a  very,  very  bad  one),  where  we  stopped ;  a  few 
words  passed ;  she  told  me  to  get  my  dinner  at  the  inn,  as  she  had 
but  one  room,  and  then  come  to  her.  I  got  a  very  bad  dinner  and 
set  out  to  her  old  lodgings,  to  which  the  servant  had  misdirected  me ; 
met  her  on  my  return  in  search  of  me,  and  walked  with  her  to  her 
newly-built,  or,  building,  house  —  a  most  commodious,  beautifully 
situated,  and  desirable  residence  in  all  respects.  I  could  not  but  look 
with  wonder  at  the  brown  hue  of  health  upon  her  face  and  see  her 
firm  and  almost  manly  strides  as  she  walked  along  with  me  to  Fox- 
how,  Dr.  Arnold's  place,  from  which  the  family  are  at  present  abroad  ; 
it  is  a  very  enjoyable  home,  and  it  is  easy  to  conceive  how  a  mind  and 
heart  like  that  good  and  great  man's  must  have  felt  the  enjoyment  of 
such  a  retirement.  We  walked  on  to  Rydal  Mount  to  call  on  Words- 
worth, who  was  ill  in  bed  and  had  had  leeches  this  morning.  I  left 
my  regards,  etc.,  took  a  walk  along  his  terraces,  looking  on  Winder- 
mere  and  Rydal,  and,  returning  to  my  inn,  soon  after  rejoined  Miss 
Martineau,  at  Mrs.  Davy's,  with  whom  and  Mr.  Greg  a  I  took  tea  and 
passed  a  very  agreeable  evening.  I  had  received  a  pamphlet  and  long 
letter  from  Professor  Gregory  on  the  subject  of  mesmerism,  on  which 
we  had  talked  a  little  at  Major  Thorn's  on  Saturday  last ;  it  is  a  trans- 
lation of  Richenbach,  and, -with  some  curious  facts  mentioned  by  Miss 
Martineau,  certainly  made  me  pause  in  my  utter  rejection  of  this 
hitherto  inscrutable  and  mysterious  power,  if  power  it  really  be. 

Ambleside,  March  2Gth.  —  Wrote  a  note  to  Wordsworth.  Posted 
my  letters,  and  walked  down  to  Miss  Martineau's  cottage  ;  I  do  enjoy 
the  air,  the  hills  and  streams,  that  are  keeping  up  their  gentle  noise  all 
around  me ;  the  morning  was  one  of  the  best  of  early  spring's.  I 
planted  two  oaks  for  Harriet  Martineau,  which,  with  her  small  spade, 
cost  me  some  strain  of  the  back.  The  more  I  see  of  her  pretty  house 
the  more  I  am  pleased  with  it ;  it  has  not,  that  I  perceive,  one  point 
of  objection,  with  an  infinite  number  of  recommendable  qualities.  We 
walked  to  the  chapel  over  the  Brathay,  took  a  lovely  view  of  Winder- 
mere,  and  walked  home,  talking  hard  the  whole  way.  I  read  to  her 
Willie's  account  of  the  shipwreck :  it  was  to  me  a  very  pleasant  morn- 
ing. 

The  scenery  is  very  pleasing,  and  the  exercise  in  the  fresh  bracing 
air  was  quite  exhilarating.  I  spoke  to  her  of  my  wish  that  Nina  should 
hereafter  spend  some  time  with  her,  which  she  appeared  to  concur  in 
very  heartily.  Paid  my  bill  and  left  Ambleside  by  the  mail,  riding 
outside  to  Kendal  along  the  side  of  Windermere,  to  obtain  views  of  the 
lake,  and  take  my  farewell  look  of  the  mountains  ;  my  eyes  would  not 
serve  me  to  read,  so  the  remainder  of  my  journey  to  Lancaster  was 
"  flat  and  unprofitable."  At  Lancaster  took  the  railway  to  Manchester ; 
on  arriving  there  went  to  the  Albion  Hotel ;  read  the  papers. 

1  Mr.  William  Rathbonc  Crc"  —  ED. 


184G.  REPTON.  559 

Derby,  March  30th.  —  Took  a  small  carriage  and  went  to  Kepton, 
eight  miles  distant,  the  birth-place  of  my  beloved  mother ;  this  little 
journey  has  been  the  object  of  my  thoughts  for  many  years,  a  wish  of 
my  heart  ever  since  that  blessed  parent  pointed  out  to  me  from  the 
window  of  the  chaise  as  we  traveled  from  Birmingham  to  Sheffield  the 
graceful  slender  spire  about  two  miles  distant.  I  have  never  forgotten 
it.  That  must  be  at  least  forty-four  years  ago.  At  last  I  have  visited 
the  church  where  she  was  baptized,  and  looked  upon  the  trees,  the 
fields,  the  river,  and  the  houses  that  her  infant  eyes  looked  on.  And 
she  has  been  long  since  in  her  quiet  grave ;  and  my  darling  Joan  too, 
my  parent  and  my  offspring,  both  in  a  more  exalted  state  of  being,  I 
hope  and  trust.  When  am  I  to  rejoin  them  ?  —  a  solemn  question  ! 
My  heart  blesses  their  beloved  spirits.  I  went  into  the  church,  and 
through  the  church-yard  sought  for  some  memorial  of  my  grandfather, 
Charles  Birch,  but  none  is  there.  I  extracted  the  following  from  the 
register :  —  1765,  August  9th,  Christina  Ann,  daughter  of  Mr.  Charles 
and  Christina  Birch,  his  wife,  baptized."  Then  —  "  1768,  March  20th, 
Mr.  Charles  Birch,  surgeon,  buried."  l  I  descended  to  the  crypt,  a  very 
curious  round-arched  vault,  with  a  sort  of  Doric  or  Etruscan-looking 
pillars,  entwined  with  a  roll,  and  supporting  round  arches,  the  center 
space  seeming  loftier  than  those  at  the  four  angles.  And  she  was  an 
infant  here,  and  here  her  father  died  in  a  state  of  derangement  from 
the  ruin  of  his  property,  through  the  treachery  or  misfortune  of  the 
agent  to  whom  his  savings  were  intrusted,  at  least  thus  I  understood 
from  my  dear  mother.  Blessings  on  her  —  beloved  one !  Saw  the 
school-house,  where  one  might  be  very  industrious  and  very  happy  ; 
poor  Macaulay,2  my  friend,  who  lies  buried  in  the  church,  was,  I  fear, 
too  indolent  and  luxurious  to  be  either. 

April  4th.  —  Forster  showed  me  "  The  Times,"  in  which  is  a  letter 
of  Mr.  Edwin  Forrest,  admitting  that  he  hissed  me  on  my  introduction 
of  a  "  fancy  dance  "  into  Hamlet ;  that  he  had  a  right  to  do  so  ;  that 
he  was  not  solitary  in  the  act ;  and  that  he  often  led  the  applause 
which  he  regretted  others  did  not  follow. 

8fh. —  Mr.  Stirling  called  and  I  signed  the  agreement  for  five  weeks 
at  the  Surrey,  £1,000.  May  God  speed  it  for  good. 

13th.  —  Engagement  at  Princess's  Theater.  Acted  Hamlet.  Mr. 
Maddox  came  into  my  room. 

1  Macready's  mother's  grandfather  was  Jonathan  Birch,  Vicar  of  Bakewell,  in 
the  County  of  Derby,  where  he  died  and  was  buried,  1735.  Her  mother  was 
Christina  Frye,  daughter  of  Edward  Frye,  Governor  of  Montserrat.  The  Rev. 
John  Neville  Birch,  Rector  of  Leasingham,  in  the  County  of  Lincoln  (died  1782) 
and  the  Rev.  Thomas  Birch,  Rector  of  South  Thoresby,  in  the  County  of  Lincoln 
(died  1806),  were  her  paternal  uncles.  The  family  of  Birch  was  originally  settled 
in  Lancashire,  and  it  is  said  that  Macready's  great  great-grandfather  was  disin- 
herited by  his  father  for  taking  the  Royalist  side  in  the  civil  wars  of  Charles 
I.  —  ED. 

a  The  Rev.  John  Heyrick  Macaulay,  eldest  brother  of  Kenneth  Macaulay,  Q.  C., 
and  M.  P.  for  Cambridge,  and  first  cousin  of  Lord  Macaulay,  was  lor  some  time 
head-master  of  Repton  School.  He  was  a  good  scholar,  and  possessed  of  many 
excellent  qualities.  —  ED. 


5  GO  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1846. 

15th. —  Acted  Othello  with  great  care,  but  suffering  much  from 
weakness  and  cold  upon  my  voice  and  head.  Thought  that  I  never 
spoke  the  address  to  the  Senate  so  directly  and  really  as  this  evening, 
much  too  of  the  impassioned  portions.  I  thought  I  acted  as  feeling  it. 
Called  for. 

19th.  —  Began  the  long  and  particular  business  of  correcting,  punc- 
tuating, reading,  and  arranging  White's  new  play  of  "  The  King  of  the 
Commons,"  which  occupied  my  whole  day. 

18th.  —  Dined  with  Lady  Blessington.  Met  Lord  Robertson,  Lis- 
ton,  Quin,  Lord  Chesterfield,  Edwin  Landseer,  Grant,  Forster,  Jerdan, 
Guthrie,  Dickens. 

May  2d.  —  Took  up  Dickens,  and  with  him  went  to  the  Royal 
Academy.  Delighted  with  the  Exhibition,  which  surpasses  in  general 
effect  any  that  I  have  seen.  Saw  Maclise,  Stanfield,  Leslie,  E.  and 
Ch.  Laudseer,  Knight,  Allan,  Danby  (to  whom  I  was  introduced  and 
to  whom  I  introduced  Dickens),  Lane,  Herbert,  Chalon,  Pickersgill, 
Uwins,  Lee,  Jones,  Cockerell,  Etty,  Patten,  Roberts,  Mulready,  Howard, 
Grant,  S.  Cooper  (to  whom  I  was  introduced),  Sir  M.  A.  Shee,  who 
presided  and  went  through  his  hard  day's  work  with  great  taste  and 
feeling.  I  saw  T.  Cooke,  whom  I  accosted  and  spoke  to  with  great 
kindness,  we  shook  hands,  I  have  never  entertained  any  but  kindly 
feelings  for  him ;  Lord  Lansdowne,  Rogers,  Lord  Morpeth.  The 
Duke  was  there  and  spoke,  Sir  R.  Peel,  Graham,  etc.  The  day  was 
very  agreeable  to  me.  Talfourd  was  there,  and  on  breaking  up,  at 
Dickens's  suggestion  (with  no  relish  on  my  part)  Rogers,  Edwin  Land- 
seer,  Stanfield,  Dickens,  Talfourd,  and  myself  went  to  the  Lyceum  to 
see  General  Tom  Thumb. 

1th.  —  Count  D'Orsay,  Lord  Robertson,  the  Chisholm,  the  Dick- 
enses,  Procters,  Sir  William  Allan,  Liston,  Swinfen  Jervis,  Edwin 
Landseer,  Mrs.  Kitchener,  came  to  dinner.  Lord  Robertson  gave  his 
after-dinner  speeches,  his  Italian  songs,  and  his  Gaelic  sermon  with 
great  effect. 

9//<.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rutherfurd,  Sir  De  Lacy  and  Lady  Evans, 
Fonblanque,  Miss  Twiss,  Alfred  Tennyson,  Dyce,  and  Kenyon  came 
to  dinner. 

10th.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  E.  Goldsmid,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brockedon,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  J.  Delane,  Stanfield,  Jerdan,  Dr.  Elliotson,  C.  Kemble,  Oxen- 
ford,  and  Raymond  came  to  dinner. 

1 4th.  —  Sir  John  Wilson,  Babbage,  Sir  J.  Lyon  Goldsmid,  and  Miss 
G.,  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Alb.  Goldsmid,  Sir  John  and  Lady  Burgoyne, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stone,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Campbell,  and  Wheatstone  dined 
with  us. 

16th.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  M.  Gibson,  Mr.  and  Miss  Mackinnon,  Lydia 
Bucknill,  Mrs.  Jameson,  Panizzi,  Sir  R.  Comyn,  Thorburn,  Hayward, 
Harness,  and  Thackeray  dined  with  us. 

20th.  —  Acted  King  James,  in  Mr.  White's  play  of  "  The  King  of 
the  Commons"  very  fairly,  considering  all  things.  Was  called  and 
very  warmly  received. 


1846.  MISS  MACIRONE.  561 

30th.  —  Dined  with  Lord  Lansdowne.  Met  Lord  Shelburne,  T. 
Moore,  Panizzi,  Eastlake,  Sir  A.  Gordon,  Elliot,  Jerrold,  Mrs.  Nor- 
ton, Mrs.  Elliot. 

June  $th.  —  Bezzi,  Eastlake,  Maclise,  Mulready,  Knox,  Procter, 
Forster,  came  to  dinner. 

IQth.  —  My  engagement  at  the  Princess's  closed.  Acted  King 
James  in  "  The  King  of  the  Commons."  Mr.  Maddox  came  to  my 
room  and  took  leave  of  me,  emphatically  thanking  me. 

22d.  —  Mr.  Meadows,  the  artist  of  the  Surrey  Theater,  called,  and 
I  went  over  with  him  the  scenes  of  "  Hamlet,"  writing  out  a  plot  for 
him. 

23d.  —  Mr.  Aubrey  de  Vere  called  with  an  introduction,  at  Lord 
Monteagle's  request,  from  Talfourd.  He  sat  long,  and  I  am  delighted 
with  him. 

2Qth.  —  Went  to  Miss  Macirone's  concert.  Pleased  with  Thillon, 
Pischek,  and  herself.  Was  interested  particularly  at  the  concert  in 
watching  the  expression  of  the  different  artists.  Pischek  struck  me 
as  an  enthusiast,  but  one  who,  by  dint  of  cultivation  and  discipline, 
could  repose  upon  the  conciousness  of  his  power.  He  knew  what  he 
was  going  to  do,  whilst  he  let  himself  go  free  upon  the  current  of  his 
feelings.  Miss  Macirone  I  sympathized  with,  in  all  her  little  busy, 
nervous  fidgettings  and  innocent  affectations  —  it  was  an  event,  per- 
haps the  event  of  her  life,  poor  girl,  and  I  rejoiced  in  her  triumph. 
How  little  could  the  crowd  around  know  of  the  years  of  toil,  perhaps 
suffering  and  disappointment  —  years  in  the  sense  of  quantity  of  pain 
—  she  may  have  undergone  to  bring  herself  up  to  this  point. 

27th.  — -  Went  to  Colnaghi's  and  saw  De  la  Roche's  picture  of  Na- 
poleon at  Fontainebleau,  1814.  The  history  of  the  man's  life  is  con- 
densed into  that  small  piece  of  canvas ;  it  is  to  me  a  picture  of  great 
power,  great  pathos,  and  great  intellect.  Went  to  the  College  of 
Physicians,  where  I  saw  Elliotson,  Spurgin,  Parris,  Dean  of  West- 
minster, etc. ;  heard  Elliotson's  oration  in  Latin,  which  was  not  well 
delivered,  but  in  many  parts  very  interesting.  I  was  amazed  to  hear 
him  declare  the  power  of  mesmerism,  and  insist  upon  its  truth.  Read 
"  Consuelo "  on  my  route.  Dined  with  Kenyon,  meeting  Panizzi, 
.  Procter,  Forster,  etc.  Went  to  Sir  J.  Rennie's,  saw  Manby,  C.  Land- 
seer,  Stone,  Knight,  etc.  Saw  a  most  curious  machine  for  making 
tubes  to  hold  artists'  colors.  We  have  great  discoveries  yet  to  make. 

30th.  —  Read  the  paper,  not  losing  one  word  of  Sir  R.  Peel's  inter- 
esting speech.  His  laying  down  office  was  a  proud  minute,  far  prouder 
than  its  assumption.  With  Sterne,  one  might  say,  "  Oh,  how  I  envied 
him  his  feelings  !  "  Attended  to  the  children,  who  engross  my  time. 
Made  payments  by  note  to  B.  Smith.  Paving  rate,  etc.  Heard  the 
dear  children  read.  Read  the  two  first  scenes  of  "  Hamlet "  to  them. 
Read  in  "  Consuelo." 

July  2d.  —  Went  to  breakfast  with  Rogers.     Met  Lyon,  Aubrey  de 
Vere,  and,  to  my  great  delight,  Henry  Taylor,  author  of  "  Philip  Van 
Artevelde."     He  talked  much,  and  talked  well ;  his  knowledge  of  our 
36 


5G2  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1846. 

poets  is  very  extensive  indeed  ;  he  quoted  much  and  excellently  well. 
Rogers  was  in  very  good  spirits.     Came  home,  reading  "  Consuelo." 

5^.  —  Went  out  to  Mortlake  to  lunch  with  Henry  Taylor.  Met 
there,  with  some  one  I  did  not  know,  Captain  Elliot,  whom  I  was  very 
glad  to  meet.  Was  very  much  pleased  with  Mrs.  H.  Taylor,  whom  I 
thought  most  intelligent,  pleasing,  and  attached,  quite  as  a  poet's  wife 
should  be,  to  her  husband.  Taylor  took  me  into  the  drawing-room, 
where  we  talked  on  art  and  various  things,  until,  on  Mrs.  Taylor's 
entrance,  after  a  grand  storm  of  rain  and  thunder  had  passed  away,  he 
mentioned  the  comedy  he  was  upon,  and  wished  to  read  his  first  act  to 
me.  It  was  in  language  very  beautiful ;  I  was  delighted  with  it,  but 
I  criticised  its  construction,  and  in  my  observations  was  gratified  to  see 
that  I  imparted  some  truths  he  had  not  been  aware  of,  with  the 
knowledge  of  which  he  seemed  very  much  pleased.  I  remained  long, 
leaving  them  at  a  little  past  five.  Returned,  reading  my  delightful 
"  Consuelo." 

S(h.  —  Read ;  finished  "  Consuelo."  It  is  long  since  I  have  been  so 
deeply  penetrated  by  a  book.  I  shall  never,  during  at  least  the  few 
years  left  to  me  of  life  (and,  do  I  wish  them  to  be  many.  God  guide 
me),  forget  this  book.  It  is  full  of  genius.  My  soul  has  been  ele- 
vated by  its  perusal. 

Let  no  one  say  it  is  useless  or  even  weak  to  suffer  and  to  grieve  for 
fictitious  distress  ;  it  humanizes,  softens,  and  purifies  the  soul. 

13th.  —  Went  to  Kensal  Green  Cemetery  to  visit  the  resting-place 
of  my  blessed  Joan ;  the  dear  creature.  My  heart  blessed  her  and 
prayed  for  our  reunion. 

Saw  Rachel  in  "  The  Horaces."  Her  acting  in  Camille  was  very 
good,  but  there  was  a  deficiency  of  physical  force  and,  in  consequence, 
her  vehemence  was  too  scolding,  too  cat-like  in  the  spitting  out  of  her 
reproaches.  Saw  Lord  Beaumont,  the  Goldsmids,  Lady  Blessington. 

20th.  —  London  to  Torquay. 

Jersey,  St.  Heller's  July  21st.  —  Came  on  shore  in  boat.  Drove  up 
to  Fred.  Reynolds.  After  breakfast  sent  for  Mr.  Harvey.  Arranged 
with  him  for  the  engagement,  to  act  five  nights  here  and  three  at 
Guernsey. 

St.  Heller's,  July  22d. —  Acted  Richelieu. 

24th.  —  Werner. 

21th.  —  Hamlet. 

30th.  —  Shylock. 

31s/.  —  Virginius. 

St.  Heller's  to  Guernsey,  August  1st.  —  Went  on  board  the  Ariadne 
steamboat.  The  company  of  Mr.  Harvey  was  on  board.  Arrived  in 
Guernsey. 

Guernsey,  August  3d.  —  Acted  Hamlet. 

4/A.  —  Richelieu. 

5th.  —  Werner. 

London,  August  20tk.  —  Birth  of  a  daughter.  [The  day's  entry  is 
headed  Benvenuta.'] 


1846.  ENGAGEMENT  AT  SURREY  THEATER.  563 

23d.  —  Arrived  at  Manchester  ;  I  had  my  usual  nervousness  upon 
me,  which  is  most  extraordinary,  most  ridiculous  ;  but  so  it  is,  the  en- 
tering into  a  town  where  I  am  going  to  act,  the  sight  of  my  name  in 
the  play-bills  on  the  walls  affects  me  most  unpleasantly.  How 
strange  ! 

Manchester,  August  24th.  —  Tried  my  utmost  to  act  Hamlet,  but  the 
audience  were  so  peculiar  that  they  surprised  and  in  some  degree  dis- 
tressed me ;  they  would  not  allow  of  any  ebullition  of  applause,  but 
applauded  at  the  end  of  the  scene.  I  wish  it  were  always  so,  but  not 
being  used  to  it,  it  disconcerted  me  at  first.  Called  and  well  received. 

26th.  —  Eichelieu. 

28th.  —  Othello. 

29th.  —  Werner. 

September  1st.  —  Macbeth. 

3d.  —  Richelieu. 

4:th.  —  Virginius. 

London,  September  7th.  —  Went  to  Surrey  Theater.1  Rehearsed 
with  care.  Dined,  rested ;  acted  with  great  pains,  very  finely ;  I  think 
I  did  act  well.  Spoke  to  Mr.  Stirling.  Returned  home. 

2Qth.  —  To  Warrington,  to  give  a  gratuitous  reading  of  Macbeth  to 
the  Mechanic's  Institute. 

London,  October  9th.  —  Completed  my  first  Surrey  engagement. 
Acted  Hamlet. 

13th.  —  Dined  with  Forster.  Met  A'JBeckett,  White,  Kenyon,  Lord 
Nugent,  Talfourd,  and  Douglas  Jerrold. 

24th.  —  Went  over  Macbeth,  which  indeed  occupied  me  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day,  correcting  Collier's  execrable  text,  and  writing 
notes  for  the  omitted  scenes,  etc. 

Proceeded  to  the  Marylebone  Literary  and  Scientific  Institution. 
The  room  was  tolerably  filled.  I  read  with  great  care  and,  I  thought, 
well,  but  Shakespeare  is  to  be  acted ;  there  was  much  applause,  and  I 
finished  by  ten  o'clock.  A  long  time  for  one  voice  and  one  person  to 
stand  before  an  audience  on  matter  not  personally  interesting  them. 

November  7th.  —  Last  night  of  Surrey  engagement.  Acted  Virgin- 
ius. Called  for  and  most  enthusiastically  greeted. 

Manchester,  November  10th.  —  Reading  of  Macbeth  at  Mechanic's 
Institute. 

London,  November  19th.  —  Mr.  and  Miss  Fox,  Mr.  Tom  Taylor, 
Mr.  A'Beckett,  Charles  Eddy,  Stanfield,  Maclise,  King,  Thackeray, 
and  Forster  dined  with  us.  A'Beckett  and  Taylor  are  both  agreeable 
men.  Taylor  a  man  of  extensive  information,  I  like  him  much. 

Plymouth,  November  23d.  —  Acted  Hamlet** 

2ith.  —  Virginius. 

26th.  —  Lear. 

27th.  —  "  King  of  the  Commons." 

28th.  —  Wightwick  called  with  Mrs.  W.  for  me,  and  took  me  in  a 

1  The  engagement  at  the  Surrey  Theater  continued  from  7th  September  to  9th 
October,  and  again  from  12th  October  to  7th  November.  —  ED. 


564  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1847. 

carriage  to  Flete,  the  seat  of  Lady  Elizabeth  Bulteel.  I  was  intro- 
duced to  her,  admired  her ;  really,  a  most  engaging  woman,  elegant, 
simple,  or  rather  simple  and  elegant  for  the  one  quality  must  be  the 
foundation  of  the  other  —  a  very  sweet  woman.  Lady  Morley  was 
with  her,  and  Mr.  Courtenay  also.  We  lunched.  I  went  over  the 
house,  which  is  a  monument  of  the  feeling,  taste,  and  talent  of  the  de- 
ceased proprietor  and  builder. 

BOth.  —  Acted  Richelieu. 

December  1st.  —  Lear. 

3d.  —  "  King  of  the  Commons." 

4th.—  Shylock. 

London  December  18th.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft  (American  Min- 
ister), Sir  de  Lacy  and  Lady  Evans,  Carlyle  and  Miss  "Welch,  Fon- 
blanque,  Babbage,  and  Knox  dined  with  us. 

19th.  —  The  Milner  Gibsons,  Horace  Twisses,  Delanes,  Dillon,  and 
Dyce  dined  with  us. 

21st.  —  Hardwick,  Quin,  Dickens,  Troughton,  Elliotson,  Mark 
Lemon,  Leech,  Forster,  Swinfen  Jervis,  Raymond  dined  with  us. 

Canterbury,  December  3Qtk.  —  Acted  Hamlet. 

31st.  —  Werner. 

1847. 

[Sentences  at  commencement :] 

Whatever  yon  do,  get  rid  of  anxiety  ;  it  hurts  the  stomach  more  than  arsenic,  it 
generates  only  fresh  cause  for  anxiety  by  producing  inaction  and  loss  of  time. 


Ea  liberalitate  utendum,  qua?  amicis  prosit,  obsit  nemini.1  —  Cic.  De  Off.  I.  43. 


Alia  alium  delectant.  Ego  vero  prudenti  consilio  et  modicis  cupiditatibus 
deleo.tor.  Sit  mihi  mens  sana,  et  bene  temperata :  ingenium  quod  neque  hom- 
inibus,  neque  vitae  eventibus  irascitur,  iis  contra  animo  assentitur;  omnia  probe' 
sestimat,  iisque  recte  utitur.2 

London  to  JZxeter,  January  3d.  —  Rose  in  tolerably  good  time,  and 
busily  employed  myself  in  packing  up  my  clothes,  etc.,  which  occupied 
me  some  hours.  On  coming  down-stairs  I  read  prayers  to  my  dear 
family.  Came  by  railway  to  Exeter,  reading  by  the  way  the  "  Ex- 
aminer" and  No.  4  of"  Dombey  and  Son,"  which  I  think  most  pow- 
erfully written. 

• 

1  Be  generous,  but  so  as  to  be  of  use  to  your  friends  without  injuring  any  one. 
—  ED.  TRANS. 

2  There  are  differences  in  what  gives  content  to  different  persons.    For  my  part, 
I  place  my  delight  in  prudent  determination  and  moderate  desires.    I  would  have 
a  sound  and  well-regulated  mind,  and  a  disposition  not  apt  to  be  angered  either 
by  men,  or  by  the  accidents  of  life,  but  which,  on  the  contrary,  accepts  them  with 
a  good -will,  takes  a  just  view  of  all  things,  and  turns  them  to  good  account.  — 
ED.  TRANS. 


1847.  EXETER— GLASGOW.  565 

Exeter,  January  4th.  —  Othello. 

6th.  —  "  King  of  the  Commons." 

8th.  —  Richelieu. 

Bristol,  January  llth. —  Hamlet. 

Bristol  to  Bath,  January  1 2th.  —  Came  on  to  Bath  reading  "  Ex- 
aminer." Went  from  White  Heart  to  the  theater,  walked  the  stage 
to  make  myself  at  home  upon  it  —  my  usual  practice.  Thoughts  of 
past  days  crowd  on  me  here,  my  first  agitated  experiment,  my  success, 
my  friends,  my  youthful  vanities,  and  real  and  fancied  loves,  alas  !  how 
many  in  the  grave,  how  past  are  all  these  dreams  of  boyishness  ! 

Bristol,  January  13th.  —  Lear. 

Bath,  January  14th.  —  Lear.  [To  26th  January,  performing  alter- 
nately at  Bath  and  Bristol.] 

Dublin,  February  1st.  —  Acted  Macbeth  well,  yes,  well,  to  an  in- 
different house.  Called.  Stapleton,  poor  old  fellow,  a  thirty-two 
years'  acquaintance,  came  in  to  speak  to  me.  I  never  acted  Macbeth 
better,  and  learned  much  in  this  night's  performance.  Hear  this  and 
understand  it,  if  you  can,  you  "  great "  young  actors  ! 

Dublin,  February  2d.  —  Virginius. 

3d.  —  Lear. 

4th.  —  Werner. 

5th.  —  Acted  Othello.  Went  on  the  stage  desponding,  despairing 
of  any  power  to  act  at  all,  but  thinking  to  myself  I  would  take  time, 
having  the  clear  idea  of  every  word  I  uttered  in  my  mind,  and  make 
the  performance  a  study.  I  pursued  the  plan,  kindling  into  energy, 
and  acted  the  part  most  effectively,  indeed  well.  The  house  was  bet- 
ter than  we  could  have  calculated  on,  and  the  audience  quite  laid  hold 
on  by  the  acting.  Called  for. 

9th.  —  Went  to  station.  Left  Dublin  by  train  for  Drogheda.  Came 
on  by  mail  to  Belfast. 

Belfast,  February  10th.  —  Acted  Macbeth.  Never  was  more  dis- 
tressed ;  the  murderer  in  the  banquet  scene  laid  his  hand  familiarly 
on  my  arm,  and  other  things  nearly  as  bad. 

11^.  — Werner. 

1.2th.  —  Virginius. 

13^.  — To  Glasgow. 

15th.  —  To  Edinburgh. 

20th.  —  Edinburgh  to  Glasgow. 

Glasgow,  February  22d.  —  Acted  Hamlet  really  well,  but  under 
strange  feelings  of  fretfulness  and  mortification.  I  sent  for  Mr.  Heald, 
the  acting  manager,  and  asked  him  what  the  house  was ;  he  told  me, 
"  But  middling  yet."  I  was  quite  cast  down.  I  do  not  know  when  I 
have,  in  my  professional  life,  suffered  so  much  from  mortification.  I 
tried  to  rally,  and  acted  as  well  as  I  could ;  I  thought  the  audience 
felt  much  of  the  performances.  Mr.  Miller  came  and  paid  me  £50  for 
to-morrow  night. 

23d.  —  Lear.  24th.  —  Werner.  25th  —  "  King  of  the  Commons." 
2Gth.  —  Richelieu.  27th.  —  Macbeth. 


566  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1847. 

March  1st.  —  "  King  of  the  Commons." 

Greenock,  March  2d.  —  Started  iu  good  time  to  Greenock.  De- 
lighted with  the  sight  once  more  of  those  beautiful  hills,  and  the  vari- 
ous views  upon  this  lovely  river.  Spent  all  my  time  before  rehearsal 
in  clearing  off  debts  of  correspondence.  Posted  my  letters  and  went 
to  rehearsal.  Acted  Hamlet ;  murdered  in  some  scenes  by  the  actors. 

3d.  —  Richelieu. 

Glasgow,  March  5th.  —  Richelieu.    Gth.  —  Lear. 

London,  March  14th.  —  Thought  again  upon  my  fate  and  my  condi- 
tion, and  at  last  saw  my  way  to  the  decision  of  preparing,  if  needful, 
to  leave  the  English  stage,  and  of  going  to  live  with  my  dear  family  in 
America,  which,  if  we  did  not  like,  we  should  still  be  able  to  leave. 
This  decision  had  an  immediate  effect  on  my  spirits  ;  and  I  went  for- 
ward with  what  I  was  occupied  on  with  double  alacrity. 

2§th.  —  Theatrical  Fund  Dinner.  —  Went  to  the  London  Tavern, 
thinking  over  what  I  had  to  do.  I  was  received  as  some  extraordinary 
person.  In  the  Vice-President's  room  I  found  Horace  Twiss,  Buck- 
stone,  Brewster,  and  most  of  the  committee ;  waited  some  time  for 
Dickens,  who  at  last  arrived  with  Forster.  Where  were  Stanfield  and 
Maclise,  etc.  ?  Ate  very  little,  drank  very  little  port  and  water,  was 
made  to  take  wine  with  the  two  sides  of  the  room  —  "a  custom  more 
honored  in  the  breach,"  etc.  Gave  out  my  toasts  with  perfect  self-pos- 
session, and,  on  the  announcement  of  the  Queen's  donation,  which 
started  the  evening,  the  cheering  was  great.  My  speech  was  heard 
with  the  deepest  attention  and  interest,  and  with  much  applause. 
Buckstone  followed  as  "  a  farce."  Dickens  was  very  powerful.  Twiss 
spoke  excellently  and  Porster  too.  The  collection  was  £401.  I  cut 
the  business  short  at  about  eleven,  and,  having  sent  Letitia,  who  was 
there,  to  the  carriage  before  me,  left  the  place,  having  toasted  "  the 
Ladies."  Delighted  to  escape,  and  attended  with  the  grateful  homage 
of  the  committee  and  much  applauded  by  the  guests  as  I  passed 
through  them. 

[April  5th  to  May  1st.  —  Engagement  at  Liverpool,  with  a  few 
nights  at  Manchester.] 

Manchester,  April  2Gth.  —  Acted  Hamlet,  taking  especial  pains,  and, 
as  I  thought,  really  acting  well;  generally  in  the  very  spirit  and  feel- 
ing of  the  distracted,  sensitive  young  man  ;  but  I  did  not  feel  that  the 
audience  responded  to  me ;  I  did  not  on  that  account  give  way,  but 
the  inspiration  is  lost,  the  perfect  abandon,  under  which  one  goes  out 
of  one's  self,  is  impossible  unless  you  enjoy  the  perfect  sympathy  of 
an  audience ;  if  they  do  not  abandon  themselves  to  the  actor's  powers 
his  magic  becomes  ineffectual. 

London,  May  Qth.  —  Dined  with  Forster.  Met  Regnier,  Madame 
R.,  and  their  little  girl,  Dickens  and  Georgina,  Stanfield,  and  Maclise. 
Dickens's  children  came  in  in  the  evening.  Stanfield  went  home  with 
me,  and  we  talked  of  Maclise  on  our  way,  lamenting  his  want  of 
energy  in  remaining  here,  where  his  style  is  growing  and  hardening 
into  a  manner,  instead  of  starting  off  to  Italy  and  studying  and  paint- 
ing at  Venice  and  at  Rome. 


1847.  JENNY  LIND.  567 

10th. —  Called  on  secretary  of  Literary  Fund,  and  paid  him  £5  as 
my  annual  subscription,  or  rather  donation.  Requested  him  to  say  to 
Chevalier  Bunsen  (Chairman  of  Anniversary  Dinner)  that  I  would 
have  dined  there  if  I  could. 

13^.  —  White  came  and  dined  with  us,  and  we  went  together  to 
the  amateur  play  at  the  St.  James's  Theater.  Saw  there  Landon,  Mrs. 
M.  Gibson,  Lord  Ellesmere,  Lady  Essex  and  Miss  Johnstone,  Sher- 
idan Knowles.  The  play  "  Hernani,"  translated  by  Lord  Ellesmere, 
was  in  truth  an  amateur  performance.  Greville  and  Craven  were 
very  good  amateurs  —  but,  tragedy  by  amateurs  ! 

14ith.  —  Jenny  Lind  called.  Buried  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in 
preparing  the  copy  of  English  for  Latin  verses. 

loth.  —  White,  Savage  Landor,  Forster,  Maclise,  C.  Eddy,  Mon- 
sieur and  Madame  Regnier,  came  to  dinner. 

23d.  —  Made  out  a  computation  of  the  various  results,  pecuniary, 
of  my  different  courses  of  proceeding  to  the  end  of  my  professional 
life.  Dined  with  H.  Twiss,  met  there  Delanes,  Rogers,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
German  Reed,  Lord  De  Lisle  and  Miss  Villiers,  Miss  Courtenay, 
Lord  Charleville,  Colonel  Sharp,  etc.  Rogers  was  out  of  humor  with 
the  extreme  heat,  and  abused  everything  and  everybody. 

24:th. —  Looked  at  paper,  saw  the  death  of  O'Connell.  "  There 's  a 
great  spirit  gone!"  but  not  a  good  one,  nor  great  in  the  qualities 
which  constitute  true  .greatness.  How  thick  the  shafts  are  flying ! 
The  angel  of  death  is  unsually  busy  with  great  names,  leaving  them 
only  names.  Acted  Hamlet  at  Princess's  Theater.1 

25th.  —  Forster  and  Bulwer  Lytton  came  to  dine.  Talked  over 
the  subjects  of  plays  the  whole  evening,  and  at  last  we  seemed  to  set- 
tle down  upon  that  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole  as  the  best  that  could  be 
devised  for  a  mixed  play. 

27th.  —  Went  to  the  opera  in  low  spirits.  Saw  "  La  Figlia  del 
Reggimento,"  and  Jenny  Lind  —  the  most  charming  singer  and  actress 
I  have  ever  in  my  life  seen.  Her  energy,  vivacity,  archness,  humor, 
passion,  and  pathos'  are  equally  true.  Her  face  is  not  handsome  in 
feature,  but  beautiful  in  its  expression,  varied  as  it  is.  I  was  en- 
chanted with  her. 

30^.  —  The  Lord  Advocate  and  Mrs.  Rutherford,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Dickens,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carlyle,  Panizzi,  Eastlake,  Rogers,  Miss 
Jewsbury,  Edwin  Landseer,  and  Jenny  Lind  came  to  dinner.  The 
day  was  very  pleasant,  and  the  party  seemed  to  find  it  so.  In  the 
evening  Mr.  D'Eyncourt,  C.  Hals,  Delanes,  Horace  Twisses,  Baroness 
Eichthal,  Staudigl,  Maclise,  Forster,  White,  Babbage,  Wheatstone, 
Sir  J.  Rennie,  Spurgins,  Procters,  Mulready,  Leslies,  Jerrold,  Dyce, 
Wilkie,  Mazzini,  Bezzi,  Sir  E.  Bulwer  Lytton,  Charles  Buller,  Misses 
Herries,  Le  Roy,  etc.,  came.  All  was  lively  and  agreeable,  and  there 
was  but  one  expression,  and  that  was  delight  with  Jenny  Lind. 

June  1st.  —  Babbage,  Dyce,  Mulready,  A'Beckett,  White,  Douglas 

i  This  engagement  at  the  Princess's  Theater  was  from  24th  May  to  18th  June. 

—ED. 


5G8  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1847. 

Jerrold,  Benedict,  Hardwick,  came  to  dinner.  Staudigl  sent  an  ex- 
cuse at  the  last  moment.  We  had  a  very  pleasant  day.  In  the  even- 
ing Catherine,  whom  I  had  dissuaded  from  coming  down  to  dinner, 
received  a  good  many  of  our  neighbor  friends  with  music  —  E.  Gold- 
smid,  Bishops,  Popes,  Thrupps,  Miss  Sturch,  Thorburns,  Brockedons, 
Baxendales,  Ainsworths,  Baroness  Eichthal,  Reeds,  Miss  Rainforth, 
Miss  Morrison,  Stanfields,  Hills,  Schwabes,  etc.  All  went  off  very 
agreeably  and  cheerfully. 

5th.  —  The  Delanes,  Hetta  Skerrett,  Fanny  Howarth,  Quin,  the 
Chisholra,  Thackeray,  Lyon,  Troughton,  Travers,  Knox,  dined  with 
us. 

8th. —  Mr.  and  Miss  D'Eyncourt,  Mr.  and  Miss  Mackinnon,  Mr. 
and  Miss  Swynfen  Jervis,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.  Twiss,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  E. 
Goldsmid,  Le  Roy,  and  Forster  dined  with  us. 

10th.  —  Baron  and  Miss  Goldsmid,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Schwabe,  Sir 
John  Wilson,  II.  Smith,  Professor  Tom  Taylor,  Doctor  Spurgin, 
dined  with  us. 

16th.  —  Went  to  Brompton,  reading  "  Scribe  "  by  the  way.  Called 
on  Jenny  Lind.  I  saw  her  and  she  was  apparently  pleased  to  see  me. 
She  was  in  costume  of  "  La  Figlia"  etc.,  to  sit  for  a  statuette.  She 
was  hearing  someone  from  "  la  Oour"  who  came  for  an  opinion,  or 
instruction,  " qu i  ne  pent  pas  chanter  du  tout"  as  she  said.  I  waited 
till  she  was  free,  then  saw  her  again,  and  made  an  appointment  for 
Monday  for  Edwin  Landseer  with  her.  Called  on  Mrs.  C.  Hall,  ad- 
mired her  beautiful  cottage,  beautifully  and  tastefully  furnished. 

18/A.  —  Acted  King  Lear  with  much  care  and  power,  and  was  re- 
ceived by  a  most  kind  and  sympathetic  and  enthusiastic  audience. 
Jenny  Lind  was  in  one  of  the  stage-boxes  and,  after  the  play,  there 
was  a  great  excitement  to  see  her.  1  was  called  on,  the  audience 
tried  to  make  me  come  on  after  the  first  act,  but  of  course  I  would 
not  think  of  such  a  thing.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  audience  on  my 
taking  leave  was  very  great 

24th. —  Anniversary  of  wedding  day.  Darling  baby  was  christ- 
ened Cecilia  Benvenuta.1  The  Smiths,  H.  Skerrett,  Mrs.  Dickens, 
Wightwick,  Troughton,  Forster,  Kenyon,  Bezzi,  Oxenford,  Maclise, 
dined  with  us.  We  received  a  very  kind  excuse  from  Staudigl,  who 
could  not  sing  if  he  dined.  A  very  cheerful  dinner.  Sir  W.  Allan 
and  Staudigl  came  into  the  dining-room  before  the  evening.  We  had 
a  very  charming  concert  by  Staudigl,  Miss  M.  Hawes,  Miss  Rainforth, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Reed  (Miss  P.  Horton),  the  Misses  Williams,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  T.  Cooke.  The  Eddys,  Bishops,  Goldsmid,  Rundts,  Revds. 
Reed  and  Sturch,  Horace  Twiss,  Delane,  Howarth,  Walker,  Thor- 
burns, etc.  We  had  a  happy  day. 

June  28th  to  July  8th.  —  Excursion  in  Belgium  and  Holland, 
Bruges,  Malines,  Antwerp,  Rotterdam,  the  Hague. 

9/A.  —  Went  with  Edward  to  see  Rachel  in  "  Phedre."  It  was  a 
very  striking  performance,  all  intensity ;  all  in  a  spirit  of  vehemence 

1  Now  Mrs.  Horsford.  —  ED. 


1847.  "PHILIP  VAN  ARTEVELDE."  569 

and  fury,  that  made  me  feel  a  want  of  keeping :  I  could  have  fancied  a 
more  self-contained  performance,  more  passionate  fondness  — not  fury 
—  in  her  love,  and  more  pathos.  I  could  imagine  a  performance  ex- 
citing more  pity  for  the  character  than  she  inspired,  and  equal  effect  in 
the  scenes  of  rage  and  despair. 

Eastbourne,  August  1st.  —  Looked  at  the  papers ;  very  much  de- 
lighted to  see  that  Fox  had  come  in  for  Oldham.  Looked  through 
and  read  over  the  poems  of  Wotton  and  Raleigh.  Heard  the  children 
repeat  their  hymns.  Went  with  the  children  and  Catherine  to  church. 
Mr.  Davids  called  to  inquire  about  my  performing  at  Drury  Lane  for 
Shakespeare's  house.  I  told  him  I  had  not  the  power,  being  under 
engagements. 

September  7th.  —  Occupied  in  preparing  the  arrangement  of  "  Philip 
Van  Artevelde." 

lllh. —  Children  read  their  usual  morning  pages  of  Charles  XII. 
Letters  from  Mary  Bucknill,  from  Henry  Smith,  from  Fourrier.  Les- 
sons from  nine  till  half-past  one.  Lushington1  called,  whom  I  like  very 
much.  Walked  with  Catherine  and  Katie,  a  very  pleasant  ramble. 
Prepared  lesson  for  Monday,  giving  Willie  some  Alcaic  verses  to  do. 
Looked  over  the  English  verses  of  the  children.  Looked  out  sermon, 
looked  out  verses. 

12th.  —  Called  on  Lushington,  saw  his  brother,  and  Mrs.  Lushing- 
ton, Tennyson's  sister. 

London,  October  llth.  —  Acted  Macbeth  (at  Princess's  Theater)2 
with  great  power.  Called  and  led  on  Miss  Cushman. 

1 6th.  —  Fox,  Forster  and  Maddox  came  to  hear  "  Van  Artevelde  " 
read.  Fox  and  Forster  were  greatly  excited  by  the  play  ;  Maddox 
reiterated  his  agreement  to  get  it  up. 

17th.  —  Went  out  with  Catherine  to  Mortlake  to  call  on  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Henry  Taylor ;  proposed  to  him  to  have  "  Philip  Van  Arte- 
velde "  acted.  He  seemed  pleased  with  the  idea  and  would  consider 
it.  He  appointed  to  come  to  me  with  Mrs.  Taylor  on  Tuesday  at 
seven  to  hear  the  play  read. 

19^. —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Taylor,  Elliot,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spring  Rice, 
Dickens,  Stanfield,  White  and  Forster  came  to  the  reading.  Nina 
and  Katie  were  present.  The  effect  was  very  great.  Taylor  said  he 
had  no  idea  of  such  theatrical  power  being  in  the  work.  He  assented 
readily  to  its  performance.  All  were  delighted. 

Dickens,  Forster,  Stanfield,  and  White  stayed  supper.  Let  me  be- 
lieve this  a  good  omen, 

21  st.  —  Began  the  day  with  the  business,  which  I  expected  to  last 
for  two  or  three  hours,  of  preparing  a  copy  of  "  Philip  Van  Artevelde  " 
for  the  theater.  I  was  busily,  very  busily,  employed  in  it  the  whole 
day,  and  it  is  not  nearly  finished.  H.  Taylor  called  in  the  morning, 
and  gave  me  some  altered  lines.  He  also  read  me  his  idea  in  which 
the  second  Stadt  House  scene  should  be  played. 

1  Professor  of  Greek  in  the  University  of  Glasgow.  —  ED. 

2  This  engagement  at  the  Princess's  Theater  continued  to  7th  December.  —  ED. 


570  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1847. 

23d.  —  Continued  at  work  on  "  Van  Artevelde."  "Went  to  Prin- 
cess's Theater.  Met  Taylor,  who  left  us  immediately,  Spedding, 
Moxon,  Willmott,  and  Forster.  Read  "Philip  Van  Artevelde"  to 
them  and  the  company  of  players.  I  refused  peremptorily  to  say  one 
word  about  the  disposition  of  the  two  characters,  Van  Den  Bosch  and 
Occo  :  Mr.  Maddox,  cast  them. 

24th.  —  Going  up  to  dress  for  the  evening,  or  undress,  found  on 
coming  down  Fonblanque  in  the  study.  He  sat  long.  Foster  came 
in.  He  told  us  afterwards  that  Fonblanque  had  got  an  office  —  Sta- 
tistical Secretary  to  the  Board  of  Trade  with  promise  of  preferment. 
He  deserves  it  and  much  more.  But  alas,  for  the  pleasure  of  reading 
his  articles  in  the  "  Examiner." 

November  22d.  —  Production  of  "  Van  Artevelde."  Attended  to 
business,  did  my  best,  worked  my  hardest.  Went  to  rehearsal.  Acted 
Philip  Van  Artevelde.  Failed  ;  I  cannot  think  it  my  fault.  Called 
for,  of  course.  Forster,  Dickens,  Stanfield,  Maclise,  Spring  Rice,  and 
his  brother  came  to  my  room.  I  am  very  unhappy  ;  my  toil  and  life 
is  thrown  away.  I  certainly  labored  more  than  my  due  in  regard  to 
the  whole  play,  and  much  of  my  own  part  of  Van  Artevelde  I  acted 
well ;  but  the  play  was  so  under-acted  by  the  people  engaged  in  it, 
that  it  broke  down  under  their  weight.1 

December  1th.  —  Acted  King  Henry  IV.  In  thinking  on  the  differ- 
ence of  my  own  management  and  that  of  others,  the  critics  might 
have  seen  that  the  difference  was  great,  and  the  cause  of  this :  that  I 
thought  for  and  acted  to  myself  every  character  and  every  supernu- 
merary figure,  and  taught  them  to  act  as  I  would  have  done  had  I 
been  cast  in  their  places.  Thus  there  was  the  mind  of  a  first  actor 
moving  and  harmonizing  the  action  of  the  mass  : 

"  Mens  agitat  molem  et  mngno  se  corpora  miscet." 

llth.  —  Note  from  Elliotson,  inclosing  one  from  Barlow,  of  the 
Royal  Institution,  inviting  me  to  give  a  lecture  on  the  literature  of  a 
given  period  in  the  course  of  the  ensuing  season. 

15th.  —  As  I  was  going  to  bed,  Mr.  Anderson  sent  in  his  card  as 
from  Osborne  House.  I  did  not  recollect  what  Osborne  House  was ; 
he  came,  and  I  recognized,  on  explanation,  the  husband  of  Mrs.  An- 
derson, the  pianiste.  His  message  was  (as  he  said)  to  convey  Her 
Majesty's  wish,  that  I  would  read  the  words  (translated  from  Sopho- 
cles into  German  and  from  German  into  English)  of  "  Antigone  " 
before  Her  Majesty,  accompanied  by  Mendelssohn's  music  on  the  1st 
of  January.  I  questioned  him  very  strictly  to  ascertain  if  his  message 
was  a  direct  command  or  no.  He  was  evasive  but  very  civil,  and 
after  a-very  long  interview,  in  which  I  told  him,  if  it  was  Her  Majesty's 
command,  I  would  come  from  Exeter,  where  I  should  act  on  the 
Friday,  read  at  Windsor  on  Saturday,  and  return  to  Bristol  on  Sun- 
day ;  but  if  not  Her  Majesty's  own  wish,  then  I  excused  myself.  I 

1  The  play  was  acted  again  on  29th  November  and  1st  December.  —  ED. 


1848.  SENTENCES.  571 

wrote  to  Marianne1  that  she  might  explain  my  position  to  Her 
Majesty. 

20th.  —Went  to  the  Westminster  Play,  "The  Adelphi."  Mr. 
Liddell  welcomed  me  very  kindly.  Met  Carteret  Ellis,  in  his  draw- 
ing-room. Saw  Bourne  at  a  distance,  Hawes,  Mr.  King,  Milman, 
who  asked  us  to  go  to  tea  in  the  evening.  I  went  and  found  Lords 
Lansdowne  and  Morpeth,  Dean  of  Westminster,  Talfourd,  and  others. 
Saw  Willie  2  coming  out  from  the  play. 

27th. — In  the  evening  a  party,  chiefly  of  young  people,  friends  of 
mine,  Willie  and  Katie,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brookfield,  Elliotson, 
Kenyon,  Misses  Goldsmid,  Walter  H.  Smith,  Horace  Twiss,  Miss 
Cockburn,  etc.  The  evening  was  very  cheerful,  and  many  seemed 
very  happy.  I  was  greatly  pleased  with  Mrs.  Brookfield.  Slipped 
off  to  bed  about  half-past  twelve. 

JZxeter,  December  20th.  —  Hamlet. 


1848. 

[These  additional  sentences  are  placed  at  the  commencement  of  the 
Diary  for  1848 :] 

When  thou  prayest,  rather  let  thy  heart  be  without  words  than  thy  words  with- 
out heart. 


A  patient  man  will  bear  for  a  time,  and  afterwards  joy  shall  spring  up  to  him. 


Silence  is  the  safest  response  for  all  the  contradiction  that  arises  from  imperti- 
nence, vulgarity,  or  envy. 


We  are  as  safe  at  sea,  safer  in  the  storm  which  God  sends  us,  than  in  a  calm, 
when  we  are  befriended  by  the  world. 


If  any  one  tells  you  that  you  can  become  rich  otherwise  than  by  labor  and 
economy,  do  not  listen  to  him,  he  is  a  liar  and  poisoner. 

[The  following  notes  of  prospects  and  plans,  are  written  on  a  sepa- 
rate piece  of  paper,  placed  in  the  Diary  for  1848  :] 

To  leave  the  stage  in  May,  1849,  with  the  office  of  Reader,  and  teacher  of  elocu- 
tion, might  give  me  an  income  of  £1,800  in  England. 

To  leave  the  English  stage  in  May,  1849,  and  the  American  stage,  November, 

1  Miss  Skerrett,  who  held  for  many  years  a  confidential  position  in  attendance 
upon  the  Queen.  —  ED. 

2  Macready's  son,  then  at  Westminster  School.  —  ED. 


572  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1848. 

1850,  might  give  me  an  income  independent  of  £1,400  in  America,  with  power  to 
add  to  it. 

To  remain  on  the  stage  till  I  am  sixty  years  old  (1853)  might,  though  I  think  it 
more  doubtful  than  either  of  the  other  choices,  leave  me  with  an  income  of  £1,200. 

Query:  In  April,  1848,  ascertain  if  I  can  obtain  this  office  in  that  year,  and  by 
that  decide  my  course. 

In  the  mean  time, 
WORK, 

WORK   CHEERFULLY 

and 
WELL. 

[The  early  part  of  the  year  1848,  up  to  the  21st  of  February,  when 
an  engagement  continuing  to  the  14th  of  April,  commenced  at  the 
Princess's  Theater,  was  mostly  occupied  by  provincial  engagements  at 
Bath,  Bristol,  Sheffield,  Wolverhampton,  Manchester,  Hull,  and  New- 
castle, varied  by  a  short  visit  of  pleasure  to  his  brother,  Major  Ma- 
cready,  and  his  wife,  at  Cheltenham.] 

January  18th. —  Sat  down  to  ruminate  thoroughly  on  the  plays  to 
be  done  at  the  Princess's.  Thought  over  the  scenes  of  "  Penrud- 
dock,"  and  those  of  Sir  Edward  Mortimer ;  did  not  see  in  either 
enough  to  sustain  me  or  to  lift  me.  Turned  to  Shakespeare,  consid- 
ered "  Timon,"  suggested  by  Forster,  which  could  not  be  made  inter- 
esting on  the  stage,  in  my  opinion.  Thought  of  "  King  Richard  II." 
went  over  the  part,  thought  it  promised  the  best  of  all.  My  age  is 
an  objection  that  I  must  encounter,  and  may  overcome,  by  truth  and 
passion.  Read  the  play,  and  became  confirmed  in  my  opinion  and 
settled  in  resolution,  if  Mr.  Maddox  will  do  anything  for  it.  Acted 
Hamlet. 

London,  February  21  st.  —  At  Princess's  Theater,  Macbeth.  Mrs. 
Butler  as  Lady  Macbeth. 

23d.  —  Wolsey.     Mrs.  Butler  as  Queen  Katharine. 

25th.  —  Othello.     Mrs.  Butler  as  Desdemona. 

March  3d.  —  Birthday,  aet.  fifty-five.  Acted  King  Lear  in  my  best 
manner,  which  was  appreciated  by  the  audience.  Called  for,  led  on 
Mrs  Butler,  warmly  received. 

April  4th.  —  Reading  of  Hamlet  at  Maidstone. 

London,  April  5th.  —  Acted  Brutus  in  a  very  masterly  manner.  I 
do  not  think  I  ever  acted  it  with  the  same  feeling,  force,  and  reality. 
Called. 

London,  April  22d.  —  Waited  till  seven  o'clock,  and  went  with 
Catherine  and  Letitia  into  the'  drawing-room  to  see  the  children 
"  act."  A  humorous  play-bill  was  placed  on  the  table,  announcing 
Andromaque,  Racine,  Achilles  and  Agamemnon,  Ilias,  and  Horace's 
satire,  "  Ibam  forte  via  sacra,"  dramatically  arranged.  The  acting 


1848.  VISITING  AND  DINING.  573 

was  very  clever  :  there  was  an  excellent  understanding  and  an  ardent 
feeling  of  their  respective  parts.  If  I  had  not  the  means  of  educating 
and  of  leaving  some  little  means  to  them,  I  should  be  apprehensive 
that  the  possession  of  this  talent,  which  seems  like  an  inheritance, 
might  lead  them  to  this  worst  exercise  of  a  man's  intellect.  Their 
dresses  were  ingeniously  made  up,  and  the  whole  proceeding  was 
most  interesting.  Dear  blessed  beings  !  May  their  hearts  ever  be  as 
light  and  pure  and  as  happy,  at  least,  as  now.  God  bless  them. 

27th.  —  Acted  Macbeth  at  Marylebone  Theater. 

28th.  —  Lear. 

29^. —  Went  with  Dickens  to  Royal  Academy  dinner.  Much 
pleased  with  works  of  Herbert,  Danby,  Webster,  E.  Landseer,  Cres- 
wick,  Stanfield,  Lee  and  Cooper,  Cope,  Hughes.  Saw  many  friends 
—  Bishop  of  Norwich  had  forgotten  me  ;  so  had  Denman.  The  day 
was  not  so  lively  as  usual ;  there  was  a  want  of  management  and  the 
music  was  bad.  Brougham  was  making  himself  absurdly  conspicuous. 
The  Duke  spoke  as  unmeaningly  as  usual,  and  Lord  Lansdowne, 
whom  I  had  never  heard  speak  in  public  before,  greatly  disappointed 
me. 

May  <ith.  —  Acted  King  Henry  and  Oakley  to  a  very  bad  house  for 
the  Siddons  monument.  Called ;  led  on  Mrs.  Warner. 

5th.  —  Came  with  Catherine  by  railway  to  Bedford,  reading  by  the 
way  Forster's  "  Oliver  Goldsmith."  Arrived,  we  walked  through  the 
town  ;  but  I  was  struck  as  flat  as  the  country  or  place  itself  by  its 
uniformly  dull  country.  I  felt  as  if  my  spirits  and  energy  would  go 
if  fixed  there.  I  do  not  feel  at  present  as  if  I  could  encounter  it. 
Saw  the  school,  etc.  Walked  in  the  garden  and  into  the  other  part  of 
the  town. 

[$th  to  18th.  —  Provincial  engagements  at  Bath,  Bristol,  Plymouth, 
York,  Preston,  and  Chester,  acting  Henry  IV.,  Mr.  Oakley,  Hamlet, 
and  Richelieu. 

London,  May  24^. —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bates,  Baron  and  Baroness 
Goldsmid,  Mrs.  Procter,  Knox,  Kenyon,  Brookfield,  Eastlake,  Lumley, 
dined  with  us.  The  Dickenses,  the  Herrieses,  Ainsworths,  Twisses, 
Howarth,  Campbell,  Denvilles,  Rogers,  Babbage,  Wheatstone,  etc., 
came  in  the  evening. 

June  5th.  —  Mrs.  Rutherfurd,  who  brought  an  excuse  from  the  Lord 
Advocate,  detained  in  the  House  of  Commons,  Sir  J.  Wilson,  Sir  R. 
Comyn,  Panizzi,  Thackeray,  E.  Landseer,  Lyon,  Mrs.  Murray,  came 
to  dinner  ;  a  pleasant  day,  but  a  little  gloomed  by  the  empty  chair  of 
the  Lord  Advocate.  The  Bancrofts,  Mrs.  Thomas  and  her  daughters, 
Mrs.  Procter  and  Adelaide,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Campbell,  Schwabe,  Otto 
Goldsmidt,  Carlyle  and  Mrs.  Carlyle,  Mrs.  and  Miss  Nicholson,  Mad- 
ame D'Eichthal,  came  in  the  evening. 

7th.  —  Dined  with  Brookfield.  Mrs.  Brookfield  not  well  enough  to 
come  down  from  the  drawing-room.  Met  Hallam,  Sir  C.  Elton,  Sir 
A.  and  Lady  Gordon,  Hallam,  junior,  Mr.  Greave,  Miss  Elton.  In 
the  evening  saw  the  Procters,  Miss  Wynne,  Miss  Thompson,  etc. ;  an 
agreeable  evening ;  met  Thackeray  going  out. 


574  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1848. 

8(h. —  C.  Jones  came  as  secretary  to  the  (Siddons  monument)  com- 
mittee ;  dear  Stanfield  came ;  and  very  kindly  Lord  Lansdowne. 
After  waiting  as  long  as  we  could,  I  read  the  Report,  and  we  con- 
cluded, without  the  formalities  of  a  meeting,  that  it  would  be  best  to 
print  the  Report  and  inclose  it  with  a  letter  from  the  secretary  to  such 
persons  as  would  be  likely  to  take  an  interest  in  such  a  measure,  or 
who  ought  to  do  so.  Jones  and  myself,  when  Lord  Lansdowne  had 
gone,  made  out  the  letter,  and  he  took  it  to  get  the  paper  printed. 

Sth.  —  Went  with  Edward  and  Patty  to  Sir  John  Soane's  house  or 
museum,  a  quaint  piece  of  coxcombry  and  gimcrackery,  absurd  I  think 
to  be  left  as  it  is,  alone,  for  it  is  scarcely  worth  the  trouble  of  going  to 
see. 

The  sarcophagus  of  Belzoni  ought  to  be  in  the  British  Museum ; 
the  Ilogarths,  Canalettis,  the  Sir  Joshua,  and  Lawrence's  portrait  of 
Soane  should  be  in  the  National  Gallery.  Walked  on  to  Campbell's ; 
saw  the  statue  of  Mrs.  Siddons. 

llth.  —  C.  Jones  called,  and  I  corrected  the  Report  to  be  printed 
for  circulation,  looked  out  list  of  names,  etc.  Adelaide  and  Agnes 
Procter  called.  Catherine  set  us  down  in  Hyde  Park.  Willie  and 
myself  called  on  Lady  Blessington,  who  kept  us  talking  long ;  on 
Sheil,  from  home ;  on  Hallams,  from  home ;  Mr.  Murray,  same ; 
Elliotson,  same  ;  Hillard,  whom  we  found  within,  and  where  Bancroft 
called.  In  Grosvenor  Place  we  met  Richard  Jones,  who  must  be  sev- 
enty, but  whom  Willie  thought  not  more  than  fifty.  We  talked  of  the 
old  actors,  our  contemporaries,  of  whom  so  few  are  left.  Edward  and 
Patty  and  Ellen  came  to  dinner. 

12th.  —  Thought  upon  the  constant  subject,  my  change  of  home. 
The  consideration  of  the  purpose  of  life,  as  given  by  God,  and  the 
comparative  power  of  discharging  our  duty  in  it,  pressed  strongly  upon 
me.  My  own  degraded  position  as  being  proscribed  from  the  priv- 
ileges common  to  my  many  associates,  viz.,  that  of  going  to  court  —  a 
matter  worthless  in  itself,  but  made  a  brand  and  an  insult  by  being 
denied  to  me,  as  one  of  a  class. 

Edward,  Patty,  and  Ellen  dined.  Talked  with  Edward,  and  pushed 
him  home  upon  the  question  of  America..  His  opinion  was  that  it 
would  be  his  choice  with  my  large  family,  to  live  in  England  upon 
however  contracted  a  scale,  relinquishing  all  but  mere  living,  of  course 
giving  up  society,  and  getting  on  in  some  country  town  as  well  as  I 
could  till  I  saw  what  chances  my  sons  had  and  how  things  might  turn 
up.  As  to  my  daughters  losing  all  the  advantages  of  society,  he 
thought  nothing  of  that ;  in  fact,  the  amount  of  reasoning  was  this :  "  I 
would  stay  in  England  under  whatever  circumstances,  though  I  cannot 
deny  the  advantages  which  appear  in  the  United  States."  This,  I  may 
say,  determines  me  for  America.  God  prosper  us. 

13^. —  Looked  at  the  paper;  sorry  and  ashamed  to  read  the 
account  of  the  outrage  offered  to  the  French  actors  last  night  at  Drury 
Lane  Theater.  Asked  for  the  manager  and  was  shown  to  his  room, 
the  first  time  I  have  entered  the  stage-door  since  I  quitted  it.  The 


1848.    .  FRENCH  ACTORS  IN  LONDON.  575 

manager  seemed  alarmed  at  my  presence.  I  told  him  in  French  I  had 
called  to  express  my  concern  and  indignation  at  the  outrage  offered 
them  last  night,  etc.  They  were  very  grateful,  and  asked,  if  I  had  not 
been  content  with  my  reception  at  Paris.  I  told  them  how  gratefully 
I  remembered  it,  and  ever  should.  They  asked  if  I  would  write  a  line  • 
to  that  effect.  I  sat  down,  and  in  the  midst  of  their  hurried  conver- 
sation wrote  a  note  to  M.  Hostein,  the  director.  They  were  profuse 
in  their  acknowledgments,  Jullien  observing  two  or  three  times, "  C'est 
digne  de  votre  caractere."  M.  Hostein  in  great  joy  introduced  me  to 
two  actors,  as  I  passed,  who  were  very  grateful  and  respectful.  Called 
on  Henry  Taylor,  Mrs.  H.  T.  very  unwell.  Coming  home  wrote  a 
corrected  note  to  M.  Hostein,  requesting  him  in  French  to  substitute 
it  for  that  which  I  had  left  with  him.  The  Dickenses  and  Hillard 
dined  with  us.  Answer  from  M.  Hostein. 

14th. —  Wrote  to  Marianne  Skerrett  with  the  Siddons  papers  for 
the  Queen,  to  G.  Anson  for  Prince  Albert,  and  to  Lord  Howe  for  the 
Queen  Dowager. 

London  to  Jfereford,  June  loth.  —  Read  the  "  Times,"  in  which  my 
letter1  to  M.  Hostein  appeared,  and  a  further  condemnation  of  the 
"  dull  brutality  "  of  the  wretched  ruffians  who  so  disgraced  themselves 
in  last  night's  disturbance  at  the  theater.  At  Swindon  saw  Wilson, 
the  Scotch  melodist ;  he  was  open-mouthed  about  those  vile  rascals. 
Talked  with  dear  Katie,  who  is  a  most  engaging  child.  God  bless  her. 
At  Gloucester  I  took  her  to  see  the  cathedral ;  we  could  only  take  a 
hasty  glance  at  it ;  saw  another  church ;  showed  her  the  view  from 
the  terrace  at  Ross.  Reached  Hereford  at  five,  and  came  to  our  ex- 
cellent friends  the  Twisses ;  found  them  in  good  spirits  ;  found  Arthur 
and  Godfrey  here.  Spent  a  very  cheerful  evening. 

Leeds,  June  17th.  —  Found  at  my  lodgings  letters  from  Messrs. 
Hodgson  and  Burton,  I  presume  solicitors,  "  inquiring  of  me  in  the 
names  of  Messrs.  Webster,  C.  Kean,  C.  Mathews,  Farren,  Harley, 
Buckstone,  Wright,  Meadows,  Granby,  P.  Bedford,  F.  Mathews,  Leigh 
Murray,  R.  Roxley,  Hughes,  O.  Smith,  Lambert,  Worrett,  Creswick, 
Howe,  and  numerous  other  members  of  the  profession  who  do  not  con- 
cur in  the  course  you  have  adopted,  etc.,  whether  the  words  used  by 
you  to  M.  Hostein  were  actually  uttered  by  me,  and  the  names  of  the 
members  of  the  profession  who  authorized  me  to  protest,"  etc.  Occu- 
pied during  the  evening  in  making  a  copy  of  a  reply  to  these  persons. 
Letters  from  Poole  about  the  English  players.  Read  in  paper  of  poor 
Tom  Steele's  death.  I  wish  I  had  seen  him  as  I  intended.  His  fate 
was  unhappy,  but  not  altogether  attributable  to  the  causes  assigned  by 
the  papers.  He  had  spent  his  fortune  before  he  joined  O'Connell. 

[June  18th  to  23d.  —  Engagement  at  Leeds.] 

London,  June  28th.  —  Carlyle  and  Mrs.  Carlyle,  Sir  A.  and  Lady 
Gordon,  Sheil,  Charles  Buller,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jay,  Lady  Morgan, 

1  The  letter  referred  gratefully  to  the  kind  reception  he  had  three  times  enjoyed 
when  acting  in  Paris,  and  regretted  that  similar  courtesy  was  not  shown  to  the 
French  company  in  London.  —  ED. 


576  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1848. 

Hillanl,  Comte  D'Orsay,  and  Brookfield  dined  with  us ;  Procters  and 
Howarths  came  in  the  evening. 

\_July  6th  to  8th.  —  Three  nights  at  Birmingham.] 

London,  July  10th.  —  Special  performance  at  Drury  Lane.  Occu* 
pied  with  affairs  for  the  evening  and  taking  my  dresses.  Called  for 
Dickens,  with  whom  I  went  down  in  the  carriage  to  Drury  Lane 
Theater.  Saw  Miss  Cushman,  with  whom  was  Miss  Mcllays.  I  talked 
with  them  some  time.  Dickens  was  very  active  all  day,  answered  let- 
ters for  me,  and  took  on  himself  various  arrangements.  He  was  the 
acting  manager  ;  the  play  was  very  respectably  set  upon  the  stage.  I 
lent  Mr.  Phelps  my  dress  for  King  Henry  VIII.  Rehearsed  two 
pieces ;  saw  Braham,  Knowles.  On  going  on  the  stage,  indeed,  as  it 
appeared  from  the  beginning  of  the  anthem,  an  organized  disturbance, 
similar  to  that  got  up  for  the  expulsion  of  the  French  actors,  was 
violently  persisted  in  by  a  few  persons  in  the  pit  and  the  galleries. 
My  reception  was  very  great,  and  the  house,  with  Her  Majesty  and 
the  Prince  in  state,  was  most  brilliant.  The  noise  continued  through 
the  scene,  and  in  the  next,  wishing  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  the  dis- 
turbance, I  sent  to  ask  leave  to  address  the  audience.  The  Queen 
granted  it,  and  I  told  the  galleries  that,  understanding  they  were  in- 
commoded for  want  of  room,  I  had  to  assure  them  that,  happy  as  I  had 
been  in  receiving  favors  from  them  for  many  years,  they  would  now 
add  to  my  obligations  by  receiving  their  money  and  leaving  the  theater. 
Applause,  but  not  tranquillity,  ensued,  and  it  was  only  in  the  banquet 
scene  that  the  play  began  to  be  heard.  I  took  great  pains,  both  in 
Cardinal  Wolsey  and  in  Mr.  Oakley.  The  Queen  left  at  the  end  of 
"  The  Jealous  Wife,"  and  I  was  called  on  and  most  warmly  greeted.1 

15th.  —  Note  from  Ransom,  informing  me  that  £489  3s.  Grf.  had 
been  paid  to  my  account  by  my  committee. 

18^.  —  Dined  with  Thackeray  ;  met  the  Gordons,  Kenyons,  Proc- 
ters, Reeve,  Villiers,  Evans,  Stanfield,  and  saw  Mrs.  Sartoris  and  S., 
C.  Dance,  White,  H.  Goldsmid  in  the  evening. 

23d.  —  Dickens  called  ;  he  told  me  the  receipts  at  Drury  Lane,  be- 
fore the  people  took  back  their  money,  was  above  £1,200  —  above  £90 
was  returned. 

2ith.  —  Silliman,  Hillard,  and  White  came.     We  started  in  the  car- 

1  This  night's  performance  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre  was  given  by  the  special 
command  of  the  Queen,  and  for  Macready's  benefit,  on  the  occasion  of  his  ap- 
proaching departure  for  America.  The  Queen  Dowager,  the  Duchesses  of  Kent 
and  Cambridge,  and  other  members  of  the  royal  family  were  present,  together 
with  many  representatives  of  political  life,  of  art,  and  of  literature.  He  w:i<  -up- 
ported  by  the  friendly  services  of  Mrs.  Nisbett,  Mrs.  Warner,  Miss  Rainforth,  Mins 
P.  Horton,  Mrs.  Stirling,  of  Mr.  Phelps,  Mr.  Hudson,  Mr.  Ryder,  Mr.  Mellon, 
and  Miss  Forster.  He  was  also,  for  assistance,  or  offers  of  assistance,  indebted  to 
Mr.  Braham,  who  came  from  his  retirement  for  this  purpose,  to  Miss  Cushman,  to 
the  Misses  Williams,  Mrs.  Jane  Mordaunt,  and  Mrs.  Whitworth,  to  Mr.  Leigh 
Murray,  Mr.  A.  Wigan,  to  Mrs.  Brougham,  Mr.  A.  Younge,  and  Mr.  Norton,  to 
Mr.  Benedict  (now  Sir  Julius),  and  Mr.  Willmott,  to  all  of  whom  he  expressed 
his  thanks  in  print  by  a  "  card,"  dated  from  5  Clarence  Terrace,  Regent's  Park, 
July  12th,  1848. —ED. 


1848.  VISIT  TO  BELVEDERE.  577 

riage,  called  and  took  up  Kenyon  and  pursued,  our  way,  Silliman 
(whom  I  found  a  very  agreeable  man  and  had  met  at  dinner  in  New 
York)  and  myself  on  the  dickey.  He  was  delighted  with  and  curious 
about  all  he  saw.  We  went  to  Belvedere,  but  found  the  gates  closed 
—  Sir  Culling  Eardley  Smith,  the  present  owner  —  and  no  represen- 
tations could  make  the  woman  at  the  lodge  permit  more  than  myself 
to  pass  and  go  up  to  the  house.  This  I  did,  leaving  my  companions 
to  wait  my  return.  Reaching  the  house,  I  wrote  on  my  card  my 
dilemma,  asking  leave  to  show  the  grounds  to  my  American  friends, 
if  it  were  inconvenient  to  see  the  pictures.  Sir  C.  E.  Smith,  on  receiv- 
ing the  card,  sent  to  ask  me  in,  and  received  me  very  courteously,  ask- 
ing if  I  was  Mr.  Macready.  I  explained  with  due  apologies  the  cause 
of  my  trespass,  to  which  he  very  obligingly  said,  if  we  would  walk 
round  the  grounds  first,  the  butler  on  our  return  should  show  us  the 
house.  He  was  most  courteous,  and  a  thoroughly-bred  gentleman.  I 
returned  to  my  delighted  friends,  and  conveyed  them  through  those 
lovely  scenes.  On  returning  to  the  house,  we  inscribed  our  names,  and 
I  received  on  my  card  an  intimation,  that  Mr.  Ogg,  Sir  C.  E.  Smith's 
clerk,  should  show  us  the  house  himself.  This,  as  I  afterwards  found, 
was  a  delicate  way  of  preventing  our  giving  fees.  The  young  man 
came,  and  conducted  us  into  the  study.  Here  Sir  C.  E.  Smith  came 
to  us,  and  received  us  very  politely,  observing  to  me,  that  a  very  large 
debt  was  clue  to  me  for  the  efforts  I  had  made  to  reform  the  theaters, 
asking  me  if  I  had  not  been  unsuccessful  in  my  endeavors,  etc.  I  told 
him  No,  not  as  related  to  the  public ;  that  any  obstruction  was  in  the 
proprietary  of  each  theater.  I  presented  my  American  friends,  of 
whom  he  made  some  inquiries  respecting  some  clerical  characters  in 
New  York,  advanced  and  shook  hands  with  me  and  left  us  to  continue 
our  inspection.  Hillard  above  all,  though  all  were  charmed,  was  enrapt- 
ured with  the  "  Assumption  "  of  Murillo.  We  retired  much  pleased  ; 
the  clerk  declined  all  gratuity ;  I  gave  two  shillings  to  the  porteress 
at  the  lodge.  We  lunched  at  the  little  inn,  and  went  back  to  Green- 
wich. I  remained  at  the  Trafalgar,  reading  the  paper,  while  my  com- 
panions went  over  the  Hospital.  Stanfield,  Maclise,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Horace  Twiss,  arrived  ;  then  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dickens,  Miss  Hogarth  and 
Catherine  and  Troughton,  and  we  sat  down  to  one  of  those  peculiar 
English  banquets,  a  whitebait-dinner.  We  were  all  very  cheerful  — 
very  gay ;  all  unbent,  and  without  ever  forgetting  the  respect  due  to 
each  other ;  all  was  mirth  unrestrained  and  delighted  gayety.  Songs 
were  sung  in  rapid  succession,  and  jests  flung  about  from  each  part  of 
the  table.  Choruses  broke  out,  and  the  reins  were  flung  over  the 
necks  of  the  merry  set.  After  "  Auld  Lang  Syne  "  sung  by  all,  Cath- 
erine giving  the  solos,  we  returned  home  in  our  hired  carriage,  and  an 
omnibus,  hired  for  the  nonce,  Kenyon  and  I  on  the  box  of  the  carriage. 
A  very  happy  day. 

29th.  —  Mr.  Evans  called,  and  I  showed  him  the  edition  of  Pope 
which  I  had  prepared,  inquiring  the  feasibility  of  the  plan  to  make  it 
a  students'  edition,  the  price,  etc.     He  seemed  to  enter  into  my  views, 
37 


578  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1848. 

viz.,  of  printing  it  for  private  circulation,  and,  if  demanded,  to  publish 
it  at  a  price  which  would  pay  its  own  costs  —  with  which  I  was  ex- 
tremely well  satisfied.1 

[July  30lh  to  14th  August.  —  Engagements  at  Swansea,  Bristol, 
Birmingham,  Hull.] 

August  loth.  —  Visit  to  Mrs.  Forshaw  at  Nantwich. 

London,  August  31st. —  Wrote  to  the  Master  of  Baliol  College, 
Oxford,  to  enter  Willie.  Went  to  Equitable  Insurance  Office.  I  saw 
Mr.  Morgan,  and  he  agreed  to  my  taking  the  whole  range  of  the 
United  States,  etc.,  per  license  for  £105,  for  which  I  gave  him  a  check 
and  received  a  receipt. 

September  1st.  —  Went  with  Catherine  and  four  eldest  children  to 
Elstree  ;  enjoyed  the  ride  with  them,  the  beauty  of  the  country,  the 
recollection  of  every  house  and  tree,  the  wandering  over  and  through 
our  old  house,  Elm  Place,  where  so  many  of  our  children  were  born  ; 
walked  through  the  neglected  grounds  and  marked  the  shrubs  and 
trees,  now  grown  very  high,  that  I  had  planted.  How  many  happy 
hours  have  I  spent  there,  and  it  is  consecrated  by  its  sorrows  too.  I 
have  suffered  as  well  as  enjoyed.  Walked  down  to  the  reservoir ; 
every  step  was  a  memory.  Went  to  Mr.  Howprth's  ;  dined  there. 

[Liverpool,  September  7th.  —  Acted  Wolsey,  Oakley.] 

9M.  —  Start  for  America. 

Boston,  September  24th.  —  Thanks  to  Almighty  God,  I  reached 
the  pier  at  East  Boston  this  morning  at  about  five  o'clock.  My  night 
had  been  short,  but  not  so  bad  as  many  of  the  preceding  ones.  Dressed 
with  all  speed  and  arranged  my  packages,  which,  with  my  dispatches, 
were  all  ready.  A  messenger  for  the  dispatches  came  on  board,  and 
gave  me  directions  how  to  manage  to  get  instantly  on  shore  and  pass 
the  Customs.  All  was  smooth  for  me,  and,  after  the  mails  had  been 
carried  out,  I  went ;  my  luggage  was  most  courteously  passed  with 
only  opening  one  trunk,  and  in  a  cab  I  set  out  for  the  Tremont. 
Reached  the  hotel  and  found  my  rooms  comfortably  ready.  Charles 
Sumner  called,  whom  I  was  delighted  to  see. 

25th.  —  Went  to  Cambridge,  to  Felton  ;  met  his  wife.  Longfellow, 
to  whom  I  gave  Forster's  book.  We  dined ;  I  was  unwell  after  din- 
ner. Called  on  Everett ;  gave  him  H.  Taylor's  book  ;  sat  some  time. 
Called  at  Mr.  Norton's,  at  Sir.  Palfrey's,  at  Bowen's,  giving  him  Fors- 
ter's book.  Went  to  Longfellow's;  saw  his  lovely  wife  —  sweet 
woman  —  and  her  sister,  Mrs.  Mackintosh  ;  took  tea  with  them. 

26^.  —  Felton  called  and,  soon  after,  Longfellow.  They  walked 
out  with  me  ;  met  Mr.  Quincy,  ex-President  of  Harvard  College.  Left 
H.  Taylor's  book,  with  my  card,  at  Ticknor's.  Called  on  A.  Law- 
rence, on  the  Carys  and  saw  Miss  Eliza  —  a  very  intelligent  and 
agreeable  girl  —  left  card  at  Colonel  Perkins's.  Called  on  Mrs.  Story; 
saw  an  excellent  likeness  in  plaster  of  the  dear  old  Judge  by  W. 

1  "  The  Poetical  Works  of  Alexander  Poj)e,  revised  and  arranged  expressly  for 
Younp  People,"  by  William  Charles  Macready,  in  one  vol.  small  8vo ,  was  pub- 
lished by  Bradbury  and  Evans,  in  1849.  — ED!^ 


1848.  BOSTON— NEW  YORK.  579 

Story ;  sat  and  talked  with  her  some  time.  Longfellow  had  left  us. 
Left  Kenyon's  note  and  my  card  at  Winthrop's.  Met  Dana  and 
talked  with  him  ;  left  Kenyon's  note  and  my  card  at  Prescott's. 

Note  from  Charles  Norton,  who  had  called  to  invite  me  from  his 
father  to  dine  some  day  this  week.  I  answered,  declining,  under  ex- 
pectations to  go  to  New  York.  Head.  H.  Taylor's  second  essay  on 
Wordsworth's  sonnets,  etc.  Head  through,  for  selection,  Dryden's 
Prologues  and  Epilogues ;  for  the  same  purpose,  his  Translation  from 
Theocritus,  from  Lucretius,  from  Horace.  Read  his  "  Mac  Fleck- 
noe  ;  "  marking  it.  Looked  at  my  edition  of  Pope,  with  which  Felton 
had  expressed  himself  well  pleased. 

27th.  —  Charles  Norton  called,  whom  I  like  extremely.  Winthrop 
called,  whom  I  like  too.  Mr.  Ayling,  of  the  Howard  Athenaeum, 
called.  Drove  out  to  Cambridge  and  called  on  Felton,  intending  to 
go  to  New  York  to-morrow  morning.  He  was  out,  and  Mrs.  F. 
directed  me  to  catch  him  at  the  Worcester  station  ;  induced  him  to  re- 
turn with  me.  Began  to  read  and  rested ;  read  in  Dryden.  Went 
to  George  Curtis ;  met  Dr.  Hey  wood,  very  intelligent  man ;  Dr. 
Holmes,  a  very  delightful  one,  he  walked  home  with  me.  Read  some 
pages  of  "  The  Hind  and  Panther." 

28th  —  Mr.  Hackett  came  and  promised  everything  I  asked.  I 
pondered  all  matters :  these  positive  assurances  ;  Gould's  instances ; 
the  importance  of  saving  time,  and  the  little  real  difference  there  could 
be  in  any  of  these  theaters ;  the  dollar  price  so  ungrudgingly  placed 
and  admitted  at  the  Opera  House,  and  possibly  made  a  ground  of  ex- 
ception at  either  of  the  other  theaters :  these  considerations  weighed 
with  me,  and  I  decided.  We  signed  agreements,  which  I  pray  God 
may  be  for  good. 

New  York,  October  2d.  —  In  my  ruminations  this  morning  on  my 
contemplated  change  of  country  (dear  England  !)  I  detected  most  un- 
equivocally considerations  of  vanity  brought  into  the  balance  that  I 
am  endeavoring  to  adjust  between  the  pro  and  con  arguments  upon 
the  subject.  Why  should  I  hesitate  to  note  down  in  so  many  words 
the  particular  littleness,  which  I  found  had  place  in  my  mind  in  its  at- 
tempt to  reason  out  this  important  question  ?  Arranging  in  imagina- 
tion our  house  with  its  little  pretty  furniture,  small  objects  of  art,  etc., 
at  Cambridge,  a  sort  of  apprehension  came  across  my  mind,  how  few 
there  will  there  be  to  see  or  know  anything  of  it ;  in  other  words, 
how  little  admiration  from  others  it  will  receive  !  I  thank  God,  this 
weakness  has  been  made  palpable  to  me,  that  I  may  have  my  defense 
against  its  evil  influence.  Busy  with  weekly  affairs.  Looked  over 
"  Macbeth."  Wrote  and  closed  my  letter  to  my  beloved  Catherine. 
Looked  at  paper  ;  the  American  news  gives  me  little  interest.  Went 
to  theater.  Found  the  players,  as  I  thought !  disposed  to  be  "  peery," 
to  quote  an  old  theatrical  word,  but  they  seemed  to  grow  amenable ; 
I  hope  I  may  find  them  so.  Rehearsed  "  Macbeth." 

3d.  —  Judge  Kent  called  —  a  very  charming  person  —  he  talked 
much  about  Cambridge,  which  he  thinks  unsuited  to  us,  and  which  he 


580  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1848. 

wishes  me  to  hear  Mrs.  Kent  speak  of.  Looked  at  paper.  Rugbies 
looked  in.  Looked  over  "  Macbeth."  Continued  my  perusal  of  that 
dullest  poem,  "The  Hind  and  Panther."  Burton  called.  Copii  il 
some  of  my  Katie's  lines.  Went  to  Ruggles's.  Saw  Curtis,  Major 
Foussin,  Sedgwick,  Mrs.  Gibbs,  Major  Scott,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brookes, 
whom  I  like  more  the  more  1  know  her.  In  what  does  the  society  I 
met  to-night  differ  from  good  English  society,  or  what  more  is  needed 
in  society  ? 

4th.  —  Acted  Macbeth  with  more  spirit-realizing  thought  and  in- 
tensity of  personification  than  I  have  usually  done.  It  was  one  of  my 
nights  of  Macbeth.  I  was  called  on  at  the  end  of  first  act,  but  would 
not  go  forward.  Called  at  the  end,  and,  on  the  audience  suspending 
their  applause,  which  gave  occasion  to  one  person  to  hiss  and  another 
to  cry  "  Turn  him  out,"  I  addressed  them,  to  the  effect  that  I  did  not 
usually  address  my  audiences,  but  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  ex- 
press the  pleasure  I  had  in  their  approval ;  first,  for  the  gratification 
it  afforded  me  as  an  evidence  of  their  appreciation  of  me  and  as  a 
contradiction  to  some  journalists  who  had  welcomed  me  with  the  as- 
sertion that  I  was  superannuated  and  incapable  of  representing  the 
creations  of  Shakespeare.  I  opposed  their  judgment  to  my  unknown 
accuser. 

5th.  —  "Went  to  theater.  Rehearsed  "  Othello."  David  Colden 
called.  Hackett  paid  me  $610.50.  Sent  check  to  the  bank ;  found 
note  from  D.  Colden.  Rusgles  called  for  me ;  went  with  him,  E. 
Curtis,  and  Fqrtesque  to  the  Croton  reservoirs  and  thence  to  the 
aqueduct,  which  is  situated  very  beautifully ;  the  rocks  and  trees,  the 
sky  and  sunset,  touched  me  more  than  these  noble  works  of  a  willing 
people,  who  individually  voted  to  tax  themselves  for  this  great  bene- 
fit. The  citizens  gave  their  undivided  votes  upon  the  subject,  voting 
by  five  and  by  six  to  one  on  the  different  questions. 

G^.  _  Othello. 

1th.  —  Gould  called,  and  from  him  I  collected  that  the  performance 
of  last  night  had  made  a  powerful  impression,  which  was  satisfactory 
after  the  comparatively  little  applause  of  the  audience.  Went  with 
Colden  to  the  Century  Club ;  sat  and  talked  some  time  ;  met  Mr. 
Seymour  there,  etc.  The  fire-bell  again  going  to-night,  and  the 
voices  of  the  firemen  with  their  engines  in  the  streets.  This  is  of 
frequent  occurrence.  Alas,  for  the  sufferers. 

New  York,  October  8th.  —  Read  a  very  scurrilous  attack  on  myself, 
so  very  abusive  and  full  of  falsehood  that  it  did  not  in  the  least  annoy 
or  disconcert  me,  in  a  Boston  penny  paper.  There  was  a  good  deal 
of  vulgar  humor  in  it,  and  it  was  not  unentertaining. 

9/A.  —  Macbeth. 

Wth.  —  Bryant  called,  whom  I  was  delighted  to  see.  I  took  occa- 
sion to  tell  him  and  explain  to  him  that  there  were  "  no  passages  be- 
tween Mr.  Forrest  and  myself;  "  that  I  had  been  passive  throughout 
all  that  had  occurred  in  which  his  name  was  mentioned,  and  had 
shown  him  all  due  attention. 


1848.  DEATH  OF  BROTHER  — PHILADELPHIA.  581 

llth. — Acted  King  Lear  as  well  as  I  could  with  several  contre- 
temps and  a  cold  audience.  Called. 

12th.  — Acted  Hamlet,  not  without  some  uncertainty  as  to  whether 
some  friends  of  Forrest  might  not  be  in  the  theater  on  purpose  to  give 
color  by  their  disapprobation  to  the  "  justice  "  of  his  outrageous  con- 
duct in  hissing  me  for  my  illustration  of  the  "  idle  "  1  assumption  of 
Hamlet  on  the  King's  approach,  but  there  was  spontaneous  applause, 
and  after  a  short  interval,  as  if  it  were  remembered  that  this  must  have 
been  the  point  of  Mr.  Forrest's  exception,  another  confirmatory  round. 
I  was  very  much  cut  up  in  the  play,  but  made  the  best  fight  I  could. 
Called  at  the  end. 

Idth.  —  News  brought  me  of  the  death  of  my  dear  friend  and  rela- 
tive, Jonathan  Birch,  one  of  the  best,  the  best,  of  men,  whom  I  loved 
most  fervently ;  and  he  is  gone,  leaving  not  many  like  him  behind 
him.  Acted  Hamlet. 

Hoston,  October  30th.  —  Macbeth. 

November  1st.  —  Richelieu. 

2d.  —  Othello. 

3d.  —  Werner. 

4:th.  —  On  this  day,  henceforward  marked  as  one  of  my  most  sad 
anniversaries,  my  beloved  brother,  the  playfellow  of  my  boyhood,  the 
cherished  protege  and  pupil  of  my  youth,  the  friend  of  my«life,  Edward 
Neville  Macready,  died.  Blessed,  blessed,  be  his  spirit.  Amen. 

6th.  —  Rehearsed  ;  was  struck  at  the  grave  scene  with  the  extraor- 
dinary weight  of  the  skull  which  was  given  to  me.  I  thought  it  was 
loaded ;  then  it  occurred  to  me  it  might  be  filled  with  earth  —  but  no. 
Mr.  Ayling  observed  to  me  it  might  be  a  negro's  skull ;  looking  at  the 
receding  forehead  I  perceived  it  was  so.  But,  directly,  this  circum- 
stance seemed  to  confirm  to  me  Agassiz's  theory,  that  the  brain  did  not 
develop  itself  after  childhood  ;  the  brain  does  not  grow,  but  the  bone 
does.  The  weight  of  this  skull  went  in  confirmation  of  this  ingenious 
theory.  Rested.  Acted  Hamlet. 

Philadelphia,  November  20th.  —  Acted  Macbeth.  Before  the  play 
Mr.  Ryder  came  to  inform  me  there  would  be  a  disturbance.  I  would 
take  no  stimulant ;  had  fortunately  eaten  a  light  dinner,  conscious  of 
having  done  nothing  even  questionable.  I  was  prepared.  I  heard 
great  shouting  at  Mr.  Ryder,  who  was  evidently  mistaken  by  the  de- 
puted rioters  for  myself.  Went  on,  and  applause,  with  the  hissing, 
coarse  noises,  etc.,  of  the  ruffians  there,  attended  my  entry.  I  received 
it  unmoved,  and  went  on  braving  it.  It  continued  growing  more  and 
more  faint  through  the  scenes,  the  rioters,  sometimes  well-informed, 
trying  to  interrupt  the  more  effective  parts  of  the  performance,  but 
becoming  gradually  subdued  until  applause  aroused  them  again.  They 
were  sufficiently  quiet  before  the  end  of  the  first  act.  They  heard  the 
dagger  soliloquy,  manifestly  enrapt,  and  the  applause  was  a  genuine 
burst,  but  of  course  again  a  signal  for  the  ruffian  blackguards  as- 

1  "  They  are  coming  to  the  play ;  I  must  be  idle."  —  Hamlet,  Act  iii.  Scene  2.  — 
ED. 


582  MACREADyS  DIARIES.  1848. 

sembled.  The  murder  went  triumphantly,  and  the  second  act  ended 
as  having  stilled  them.  I  went  through  cheerily  and  defyingly,  point- 
ing at  the  scoundrels  such  passages  as  "I  dare  do  all,"  etc.  The  third 
act  also  had  evidently  a  strong  hold  upon  them  ;  in  the  early  part  a 
copper  cent  was  thrown  at  me,  missing  me,  which  particularly  excited 
the  indignation  of  the  audience,  and  when  I  went  on  a  bouquet  was 
thrown  to  me.  I  mention  all  I  can  recollect.  The  fourth  act  passed 
smoothly  after  my  entrance.  In  the  fifth  act,  as  if  the  scoundrels  were 
aware  that  it  was  a  strong  point  for  me,  they  began  with  more  than 
their  primary  violence  of  noise  and  outrage.  A  rotten  egg  was  thrown 
on  the  stage.  I  went  in  active  and  cheerful  defiance  through  it,  though 
injured  in  the  more  touching  and  delicate  effects,  and  in  the  last  scene 
threw  all  my  heart  into  the  contest,  and  wound  up  with  great  effect. 

The  majority  —  the  large  majority  —  of  the  audience  were  enthu- 
siastic in  their  demonstrations  of  sympathy  with  me,  and  of  indignation 
against  these  ruffians.  I  was  called,  and  I  went  on  —  of  course  the 
tumult  of  applause,  and  of  the  attempts  of  those  wretches  was  very 
great  —  I  stood  to  be  heard,  and  that  for  a  long  time,  touched  and 
moved  at  first  by  the  genial  and  generous  warmth  of  the  bulk  of  the 
audience.  Obtaining  at  last  silence,  I  observed  that  at  New  York  and 
at  Boston  I  had  been  warned  of  an  organized  opposition  to  be  in  force 
against  me,  but  there,  as  here,  I  had  expressed  my  perfect  confidence 
in  the  good-feeling  of  an  American  public,  and  I  was  happy  and  grate- 
ful to  find  I  was  not  disappointed.  I  had  had  long  acquaintance  with, 
and  I  might  say  I  had  studied,  the  American  character,  and  was  con- 
vinced it  was  incapable  of  sanctioning  such  gross  injustice.  There  was 
much  difficulty  in  proceeding,  and  I  had  to  wait  long  for  intervals  of 
silence,  during  which  they  gave  "  Nine  cheers  for  Macready,"  which 
were  carried  out,  and  three  or  four  feeble  "  cheers  for  Forrest."  I  ob- 
served that,  in  my  country,  it  was  an  invariable  principle  of  justice  not 
to  condemn  a  man  unheard,  and  that  their  laws  were  similar  to  our 
own.  There  had  been  an  impression  widely  and  most  industriously 
disseminated  that  I  had  shown  hostility  in  my  own  country  to  an 
American  actor.  I  declared  upon  my  "  sacred  honor  "  that,  not  only 
were  the  assertions  so  made  false  in  the  aggregate,  but  that  in  all  the 
circumstances  carefully  compiled  there  was  not  for  a  single  one  the 
smallest  shadow  of  foundation.  That  I  had  been  hissed  iu  a  public 
theater  by  an  American  actor,  an  act  which  I  believed  no  other  Amer- 
ican would  have  committed,  and  which  I  was  certain  no  European 
actor  would  have  been  guilty  of.  That  up  to  that  period  I  had  shown 
none  but  kindly  feelings  towards  that  person,  and  had  never  since  then 
publicly  expressed  an  unkind  one. 

I  begged  to  observe  that,  in  my  own  country,  some  players  had  or- 
ganized a  similar  outrage  to  the  present  against  some  French  per- 
formers, and  that  the  leading  European  journal  had  designated  them 
as  "  ruffians  and  blockheads  disgracing  their  country  in  the  eyes  of 
Europe  ; "  that  these  people  I  was  sure  in  the  opinion  of  the  audience 
would  be  considered  as  disgracing  themselves  in  the  eyes  of  Americans 


1848.         OUTRAGE  AT  THE  ARCH  STREET  THEATER.         583 

as  well  as  Europeans.  Under  such  unheard-of  outrages  as  these,  so 
unworthy  of  a  civilized  community  (pointing  to  the  filthy  remains  of 
the  egg  which  lay  upon  the  stage)  I  could  not  but  feel  grateful  for  the 
sense  of  the  indignation  which  they  had  shown  ;  that  I  should  always 
remember  the  spirit  in  which  they  had  resisted  such  proceedings,  and 
in  speaking  of  them  should  testify  my  gratitude  for  their  generous 
sympathy  ;  that  I  was  perfectly  ready  if  they  desired  to  relinquish  my 
engagement  from  that  night  (No,  No,  No)  ;  and  that,  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, I  should  recollect  with  satisfaction  and  pride  the  support 
they  had  so  cordially  rendered. 

Again  and  again  I  thanked  them  and  retired.1  The  applause  was 
most  fervent.  An  English  gentleman,  a  Manchester  man,  wished  to 
see  me.  He  came  to  express  his  sympathy,  and  to  notice  some  evi- 
dences that  he  had  witnessed  of  the  cabal.  Colonel  Lee,  the  Re- 
corder, wished  to  be  introduced  to  me,  and  was  most  ardent  in  the 
same  spirit.  He  did  not  wish  me  to  go  home  alone.  I  had  told  Bur- 
ton and  Ryder  that  one  of  them  must  walk  home  with  me  in  case  of 
assault  to  be  witness  for  me,  as  alone  my  testimony  would  be  compar- 
atively valueless.  Colonel  Lee  said  he  would  go,  and  that  they  would 
not  dare  attempt  anything,  knowing  him.  I  went  with  him  to  his 
house  to  get  his  overcoat.  He  gave  me  a  cigar,  and  together  we 
went,  but  not  the  slightest  indication  of  out-of-door  hostility.  He  ac- 
companied me  to  my  hotel,  and  took  his  whisky  toddy,  whilst  I  took 
my  tea  ;  afterwards  we  smoked  cigars,  talking  on  the  democratic  pol- 
icy, which,  as  he  described  it,  approached  very  nearly  to  my  own  ;  he 
mentioned  to  me,  in  reference  to  my  objection  to  the  territorial  exten- 
sion of  the  democrats,  Calhoun's  expression  of  "  masterly  inactivity," 
as  the  means,  the  best  means,  of  letting  the  race  extend  itself  over 
this  continent.  I  quite  agree  with  it,  and  think  it  must  be  successful 
if  acted  on.  We  parted  late. 

22d.  —  Othello. 

23d.  —  Werner. 

25th.  —  Richelieu. 

27th.  —  Lear. 
.  —  Straner. 


1  A  "card,"  or  letter,  signed  Edwin  Forrest,  appeared  in  print,  dated  Philadel- 
phia, November  21st,  1848,  which  contained  the  following  passages:  "Mr.  Ma- 
cready, in  his  speech  last  night  to  the  audience  at  the  Arch  Street  Theater,  made 
allusion,  I  understand,  to  '  an  American  actor  '  who  had  the  temerity  on  one  occa- 
sion, '  openly  to  hiss  him.'  This  is  true,  and,  by  the  way,  the  only  truth  which  I 
have  been  enabled  to  gather  from  the  whole  scope  of  his  address.  But  why  say 
'  an  American  actor  ?  '  Why  not  openly  charge  me  with  the  act  ?  for  I  did  it,  and 
publicly  avowed  it  in  The  Times  newspaper  of  London,  and  at  the  same  time  have 
asserted  my  right  to  do  so."  The  rest  of  the  letter  accused  Macready  of  suborn- 
ing the  English  press  against  him,  instigated  by  feelings  of  envy  and  jealousy  of 
his  rivalry  as  an  actor,  and  that  he  had,  in  consequence,  been  himself  hissed  upon 
the  stage  in  London  before  the  occurrence  of  his  own  hissing  of  Macready  in 
"  Hamlet"  at  Edinburgh.  He  went  on  to  deny  having  assisted  in  getting  up  "  an 
organized  opposition  "  to  Macready  in  America,  and  to  state  that,  on  the  contrary, 
his  advice  had  been  to  do  nothing  and  "  let  the  superannuated  driveler  alone."  — 
ED. 


581  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1848. 

26M.  —  Virginius. 

30th.  —  Record  of  anguish  and  the  deepest  grief.  The  friend  of 
my  life,  my  dearest  only  brother  is  gone,  before  me.  His  death-  was 
sudden,  instantaneous,  and  without  suffering.  For  that,  thank  God. 
But  he,  the  youngest  of  us,  gone,  gone  !  In  our  childhood  he  was  my 
playmate,  in  my  youth  I  tried  to  form  his  mind  and  advance  his  pros- 
pects, and  in  manhood  we  were  bound  by  love  which,  though  some- 
times shaken  and  disturbed,  sometimes  violently,  yet  still  existed  to 
knit  again  in  closer  bonds  which  have  not  been  broken,  only  elon- 
gated, by  death.  Beloved  Edward,  if  thy  spirit  is  conscious  and  has 
insight  into  the  world  of  mind  still  moving  here,  thou  wilt  know  how 
fondly  and  tenderly  my  heart  reverts  to  all  that  was  sweet  and  pre- 
cious in  the  affection  of  our  lives,  and  how  bitterly  it  sorrows  for  thy 
loss.  Blessed,  blessed  be  thy  dear  spirit.  Amen. 

December  2d. —  Acted  Hamlet  with  care  and  energy  ;  took  especial 
pains  to  make  the  meaning  of"  I  must  be  idle"  clear,  which  was  fol- 
lowed by  cheers  on  cheers  after  the  first  applause,  when  it  was  under- 
stood by  the  house  that  this  was  Mr.  Forrest's  "fancy  dance"  Oh, 
lie,  fie  !  The  play  went  off  triumphantly.  Was  called,  and  enthusi- 
astically received.  I  said,  "  Ladies  and  Gentlemen.  My  words  to  you 
shall  be  very  few,  for  to  whatever  length  I  might  extend  them,  they 
would  fail  to  satisfy  in  conveying  to  you  the  deeply  grateful  sense  I 
entertain  of  the  liberal  support  you  have  afforded  me.  The  remem- 
brance of  my  visit  here  will  always  be  accompanied  with  the  ready  tes- 
timony of  my  gratitude  for  the  truly  noble  and  generous  earnestness, 
with  which  you  have  defended  me,  a  stranger,  from  the  grossest  out- 
rage, the  grossest  injustice.  I  have  spoken  and  written  of  it  as  I  shall 
ever  do,  with  admiration  and  fervent  thankfulness.  I  regret  I  cannot 
embody  in  more  expressive  language  all  I  feel,  but  the  attempt  is  vain : 
I  must  therefore  only  again  and  again  thank  you,  in  taking  my  respect- 
ful leave  of  you."  The  reception  of  this  short  address  was  all  I  could 
desire,  and  the  impression  left  on  the  Philadelphia!!  audience  seems 
what  I  could  most  have  wished. 

Baltimore,  December  10th.  —  Read  over  the  last  three  or  four  letters 
of  dearest  Catherine,  of  Letitia,  again,  of  dearest  Edward's  death,  and 
I  feel  as  if  I  had  seen  it  all.  Blessed  spirit,  farewell.  May  the  suffer- 
ing I  have  endured  for  thy  dear  loss  make  gentler  my  heart,  and  give 
me  patience  and  wisdom  to  make  my  remaining  days  or  years  more 
holy  in  God's  sight.  This  year,  poor  Susan,  my  sister-in-law  ;  my  dear 
friend  and  tutor  and  relative,  William  Birch ;  my  friend  and  cousin, 
Johnathan  Birch  ;  and  dearest  far  of  all,  my  beloved  brother  Edward, 
lost  in  this  world  to  me. 

llth.  —  Acted  Macbeth.  Called  ;  was  going  off,  when  a  person  in 
the  stage  box  called  out,  "  Say  something."  What  was  I  to  say  ?  I 
told  the  audience  that,  as  the  attempt  had  been  made  to  associate  the 
country  with  the  outrage  and  persecution  I  had  endured,  that  they  had 
vindicated  it  from  so  unworthy  an  insinuation,  and  I  thanked  them 
earnestly  and  gratefully. 


1848.  RICHMOND  — BALTIMORE.  585 

12th.  —  Looked  at  the  Baltimore  papers,  speaking  of  the  perform- 
ances last  night  in  terms  of  equal  general  praise,  or  perhaps  implying 
the  superiority  of  Mr.  Forrest.  People  here  —  my  friends  —  talk  of 
the  victory  I  have  obtained,  the  triumph  I  have  won  !  Victory  !  over 
what  or  whom  ?  A  large  portion  of  the  American  public,  the  more  in- 
telligent and  gentleman-like,  have  been  shocked  and  ashamed  at  Mr. 
Forrest's  "  card,"  written  in  the  worst  taste,  and  convicting  himself  of 
falsehood  in  one  or  two  particulars  —  and  they  believe  that  I  am  true, 
or  for  the  most  part  so.  A  large  portion  —  the  democrat  party  — 
crowd  to  see  him  at  the  theater,  cheer  him  in  the  most  tumultuous  and 
pointed  manner,  calling  forth  his  thanks  for  their  "  support,"  etc.,  and 
the  papers  speak  of  him  in  the  same  admiration  and  respect  that  they 
would  of  a  real  artist,  and  a  real  gentleman  !  And  I  am  to  live  in  this 
country!  Rested.  Acted  Cardinal  Richelieu  with  pains  and  effect. 
A  rascal  in  the  pit  set  up  a  yell  at  the  end  of  the  loud  applause  in  first 
act,  and  there  was  some  disturbance  with  him  in  the  third  —  they  said 
he  was  removed.  Was  called,  and  some  person  proposed  three  cheers, 
which  they  gave.  I  am  grown  insensible.  Ryder  brought  me  the  re- 
turns of  the  house. 

1 3th.  —  Shylock.     1 4th.  —  Werner.     1 5th.  —  Hamlet. 

Richmond,  December  13th.  —  Acted  Macbeth.     19th  —  Richelieu. 

20th.  —  Acted  Hamlet  —  taking  much  pains,  and,  as  I  thought,  act- 
ing well ;  but  the  audience  testified  neither  sensibility  nor  enthusiasm, 
and  I  suppose  it  is  either  not  good,  or  "  caviare  to  the  general."  They 
gave  me  the  skull,  for  Yorick's,  of  a  negro  who  was  hung  two  years 
ago  for  cutting  down  his  overseer. 

21st.  —  Charles  Buller  is  dead.  I  held  him  in  great  regard,  and 
had  a  very  high  opinion  of  his  talent  and  of  his  political  honesty.  He 
liked  me,  I  am  sure.  Another  friend,  for  such  I  am  sure  he  would 
have  proved  himself  to  me,  is  struck  away  —  the  lesson  of  dying  is 
being  taught  to  me  very  earnestly.  "  The  friends  of  my  youth,  where 
are  they  ?  " 

22d.  — Acted  Werner. 

Baltimore,  December  2itk.  —  Burned  my  yule  log,  and  thought  on 
my  dear  home.  Looked  over  "  Hamlet." 

25th.  —  Acted  Hamlet. 

2Gth.  —  (Nina's  and  Lillie's  birthday.)  To  God  I  lift  up  my  heart 
and  voice  in  prayer  for  His  best  blessings  of  virtue,  wisdom,  and  health, 
with  many  years  to  enjoy  the  happiness  they  must  bring,  upon  my  be- 
loved Nina  and  Lillie  — :  dear,  dear  children.  God  bless  them.  Be- 
fore I  rose,  this  prayer  was  in  my  mind  and  uttered  by  me,  and  through 
the  day,  as  at  my  quiet  table,  the  wish  of  "  Many,  many  happy  returns 
of  the  day  "  was  frequently  on  my  lips.  Thinking  of  dear  Nina's  birth 
eighteen  years  ago,  my  dear  Edward's  presence,  then  preparing  for  his 
voyage  to  Ceylon,  what  a  dream  it  seems  !  how  life  becomes  to  one's 
thoughts  no  more  than  o-Ktas  ovap.  Acted  Stranger. 

2Sth.  —  Werner. 
.  —  Richelieu. 


58G  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1849. 

Washington,  December  31st.  —  A  year  of  awful,  stirring,  fearful  and 
afflicting  events  is  this  day  brought  to  a  close.  Many  friends,  some 
most  dear,  and  one  among  the  very  dearest,  have  been  taken  from 
earth,  and  I  have  been  taught  to  feel  the  truth  of  my  own  mortality. 
The  income  granted  to  me  has  been  very  great,  but  the  expense  of  the 
year  has  been  great  in  proportion,  and  I  have  not  added  so  large  an 
amount  to  my  capital  as  I  could  have  wished.  For  all,  however,  I  am 
most  thankful,  most  grateful,  O  God,  and  bow  down  my  heart  in  ear- 
nest and  devout  acknowledgment  of  Thy  mercy  to  me. 


1849. 

Richmond,  January  4th. — Left  Richmond  with  a  most  delightful 
recollection  of  all  attaching  to  it.  Vivent !  Thought  much  through 
the  day  and  night  on  life,  the  dream  it  is.  For  the  first  time  I  saw  in 
the  glass  to-day  that  I  really  am  an  old  man.  My  mind  does  not  feel 
old ;  and  it  is  with  a  sort  of  wonder  mixed  with  melancholy  heart- 
regret,  that  I  see  almost  all  those  endeared  to  me  by  boyish  affection 
and  associated  with  the  memories  of  my  youth,  lost  to  me.  But  I  do 
not  mistake  the  warning  :  I  am  fully  aware  of  my  mortality,  and 
though  I  would  not  wish  to  die  here,  nor  without  seeing  my  beloved 
ones  again,  nor,  indeed,  until  I  had  done  all  I  really  should  have  the 
power  of  doing  to  actually  advance  them,  yet  still  I  am  not  disposed  to 
murmur,  whenever  God  may  send  the  dark  angel  for  my  spirit :  the 
violent  deaths  of  this  land  I  would  avoid,  but  to  die  as  my  dear  brother 
did,  or  dear  and  revered  Jonathan  Birch,  either  would  be  a  happy 
quittance,  after  beholding  my  blessed  ones  on  a  promising  course  of 
active  life. 

"  Life  !  we  've  been  long  together 
Through  pleasant  and  through  cloudy  weather ; 
'T  is  hard  to  part  when  friends  arc  dear  ; 
Perhaps  't  will  cost  a  sigh,  a  tear  ; 
Then  steal  away,  give  little  warning, 

Choose  thine  own  time  ; 

Say  not '  Good-night,'  but  in  some  brighter  clime 
IBid  me  '  Good-morning.'  "  1 

5th.  —  Richmond  to  Charleston. 

The  log-hut  in  the  open  spaces  with  the  neat-looking  country-house 
at  a  little  distance  frequently  appeared  to  teach  the  lesson  of  energy, 
and  frugality,  and  patience  —  the  certain  means  of  wealth  and  independ- 
ence — which  this  remarkable  people  practice.  Reached  Wilmington 
in  time  to  save  the  boat,  despite  the  dilatoriness  and  sang-froid  of  car 

1  These  beautiful  lines  of  Mrs.  Barbnuld's  were  spoken  by  the  Rev.  James 
Fleming  (his  friend,  and  one  of  his  executors),  who  officiated  at  Macready's  inter- 
ment at  Kensal  Green,  in  the  course  of  the  touching  and  eloquent  address  he 
delivered  at  the  conclusion  of  the  funeral  service  over  the  coffin,  as  it  descended 
from  the  chapel  to  the  vaults  below.  He  well  knew  Macready's  fondness  for 
them.  —  ED. 


1849.  ON  THE  MISSISSIPPI.  587 

captain  and  mail  agent,  who  would  have  breakfast  and  would  take 
their  time  in  stopping,  regardless  of  our  remonstrances.  Went  on 
board  a  dirty  boat,  Governor  Dudley,  and  after  being  aground  whilst 
we  ate  a  nasty-looking  dinner,  ham  and  rice  being  mine,  went  down 
Cape  Fear  River.  Lovely  sunset.  Moon  and  stars  in  all  their  bright- 
ness. Are  we  to  know  so  much  only  to  know  no  more. 

[January  8th  to  January  30th.  —  Engagement  at  Charleston.] 
[February  9th  to  March  10th.  —  Engagement  at  New  Orleans.] 
New    Orleans,  March  3d.  —  Kept  my  birthday   (set.  fifty-six)   in 
sympathy  with  the  dear  ones  at  home,  and  drank  their  healths  in  a 
small  glass  of  hock,  full  to  "  the  highest  top,  sparkle."     God  bless 
them.     Acted  Henry  IV.,  Joseph  Surface,  very  fairly. 

New  Orleans,  March  1 2th.  —  Calculated  the  chances  of  my  different 
routes,  and  at  once  decided  on  the  river  course. 

22d.  —  Walked  to  the  steamboat.  What  a  sight  is  that  Levee ! 
The  steamboats,  those  monster  masses,  drawn  up  in  rows  and  crowd- 
ing for  place,  while  the  whole  shore  swarms  with  the  busy  crowds 
that,  with  merchandise,  horses,  carriages,  luggage,  etc.,  are  landing  or 
embarking.  My  wonder  seems  never  to  diminish.  Each  time  I  scale 
the  stairs  of  these  immense  fabrics,  I  look  down  the  length  of  the  saloon 
in  astonishment  at  its  vastness.  As  night  came  on,  the  numerous  lights 
in  the  vessels  and  along  the  streets  on  either  shore  and  darting  across 
the  distance,  the  fire  baskets  with  their  blazing  pine,  and  the  deep  blue 
sky  studded  with  stars,  some  larger  and  higher  than  they  look  to  us  in 
England,  gave  ample  occupation  to  the  eye  and  mind.  Mr.  Polk  and 
suite  were  passengers  in  the  neighbor  boat,  and  being  escorted  by  a 
large  crowd  and  many  of  the  citizens  who  had  entertained  him  at  a 
public  dinner  to-day,  amid  blazing  pine  torches  and  shouts  of  the  mul- 
titude, the  scene  was  more  animated  than  usual.  He  came  down  un- 
der a  salute  of  artillery,  and  shortly  after  he  went  on  board  we  left  our 
moorings  and  sped  up  the  stream.  The  negroes  sang  their  wild  fan- 
tastic, yet  harmonious  chorus,  which,  in  the  night,  passing  the  various 
lights  from  shore  and  boats,  had  a  very  pleasing  effect. 

23d.  —  Rose  in  good  time  to  look  upon  a  most  beautiful  morning, 
and  went  upon  the  upper  deck  to  gaze  upon  and  wonder  at,  again  and 
again,  with  never-ceasing  wonder,  this  mighty  river,  and  note  the  alter- 
nate wildness  and  cultivation  of  its  banks.  Here  are  plantations,  with 
the  villa  in  its  garden  of  orange  walks,  its  hamlet  near  of  negro  huts, 
the  broad  high  chimney  of  its  sugar-house,  and  its  fields  of  cane 
stretched  out  to  different  extent  about  it.  Sometimes  repelling  the 
river  by  its  well-constructed  levee,  others  less  fortunate  in  a  wide 
stretched  lake,  with  boats  passing  to  and  fro.  Here  again  the  cypress 
lifting  itself  majestically  from  the  rank  swamp ;  the  sycamore,  white 
and  ghastly  with  its  mourning  vesture  of  gray  moss  hanging  from  its 
outstretched  branches  ;  here,  long  sweeps  of  cane  ;  beyond,  the  cotton- 
wood  ;  sometimes  a  small  live-oak :  to  me  it  is  all  variety.  The  tor- 
tuous course  of  the  stream  ;  the  vast  reaches  of  its  bends  ;  the  islands 
round  which  it  drives  or  hurls  its  eddies  along ;  the  steamboats  that 


588  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1849. 

we  meet  or  pass,  full  of  life  and  activity,  plying  their  eager  course  ; 
the  flat-boats,  long  boxes  of  70  or  80  feet  length  and  about  15  broad, 
with  two  long  sweeps  of  oars,  and  with  a  crew  of  four,  five,  or  six, 
filled  with  goods  of  various  kinds,  their  produce,  hams,  corn,  etc., 
trusted  to  the  stream  by  these  hardy  fellows  :  to  me  it  is  most  inter- 
esting. Stopped  at  Baton  Rouge. 

Read  through  the  day  Macaulay's  history.  Much  pleased.  Sat 
under  the  wheel,  reading  and  enjoying  the  scene. 

24th.  —  Were  stopped  and,  as  the  captain  told  me,  had  lost  our 
way  ;  could  see  neither  bank  for  the  density  of  the  fog,  which  cleared 
away  before  the  sun,  and  was  very  beautiful  in  its  gradual  dispersion, 
lying  in  thick  lines  along  the  river  shores.  Mr.  Clay,  or  Henry  Clay 
as  he  is  called,  came  on  board  last  night  at  Natchez,  but  was  not  at  the 
breakfast-table.  I  went  to  my  old  study  under  the  wheel,  and  saw 
the  shores,  the  boats,  the  flat-boats,  and  all  the  life  of  this  great  watery 
world,  as  I  raised  my  eyes  occasionally  from  the  interesting  life  of  that 
master  of  stupidity  and  crime,  King  James  II.  Passed  the  small 
town  of  Great  Gulf;  noticed  the  crevasse  as  they  call  it  at  Bayou 
Sara,  where  we  took  in  and  discharged  some  passengers,  yesterday,  I 
think.  But  these  crevasses  and  inundations  are  frequent,  almost  con- 
stant, all  up  the  stream :  the  damage  must  be  very  great.  Mr.  Clay 
came  to  the  upper  deck,  and  sat  with  me  some  time.  He  is  much, 
much  older,  than  five  years  ago.  Came  to  Vicksburg,  a  town  pushing 
itself  into  life  and  note.  Some  of  the  inhabitants,  rustic-looking  men, 
came  on  board  to  pay  their  respects  to  Mr.  Clay,  and  some  guns  were 
fired  on  shore  in  compliment  to  him. 

25th.  —  Walked  on  upper  deck,  enjoying  exercise  and  view.  It  is 
interesting  to  see  the  wooding.  The  bell  of  the  boat  hails  the  wood 
station  ;  if  at  night,  a  light  answers  it ;  the  captain  asks  the  price,  and, 
if  accepted,  takes  one  or  two  of  those  long  boxes  full  of  wood  in  tow, 
lashed  to  either  side  of  his  vessel,  and  speeds  away,  the  crew  or  wood- 
men emptying  the  boats  or  boxes  into  the  lower  deck  of  the  Peytona. 
Walked  and  talked  with  Clay  till  he  was  tired.  Read  and  finished 
second  volume  of  Macaulay's  history,  with  which  I  have  been  greatly 
pleased  and  interested.  My  bedroom  was  changed,  to  my  great  com- 
fort, to  the  ladies'  cabin.  Walked  in  the  evening  again.  Looked  at 
the  beauty  of  the  sunset,  and  thought  of  dear,  dear  home :  are  they 
thinking  of  me  ?  How  much  I  wished  I  could  show  the  wonder  of 
this  mighty  stream  to  my  dear  children  ;  it  never  loses  its  interest  to 
me  ;  the  large  islands  it  encircles,  the  huge  trees  that  come  down  float- 
ing on  its  surface,  those  fierce  wolf-looking  snags  that  poke  their  sharp 
heads  out  of  the  stream,  as  if  peering  for  their  prey,  all  add  to  the  ex- 
citing effect  it  has  on  me.  The  thin  line  of  moon  as  the  sun  went 
down  in  its  golden  and  orange  flood  of  light  was  most  beautiful. 
Looked  over  the  pages  of  Macaulay. 

'2\'<tlt.  —  Rose  in  good  time  to  see  the  city  —  all  towns  are  cities 
here  —  of  Memphis;  like  all  the  rest  of.  these  spick-and-span  new 
places,  industry  and  energy  observable  everywhere.  White  \vood 


1849.  LA  BELLE  RIVIERE.  589 

houses,  large  hotels,  etc.  Mitchell  is  better,  of  which  I  am  very 
glad.  Walked  on  upper-deck,  pleased  with  the  pink  blossom  of  the 
red-bud,  profusely  growing  in  some  of  the  woods.  Tracked  in  the 
maps  the  passage  we  have  made.  Had  a  little  conversation  with  Mr. 
Clay.  The  morning  was  very  cold,  I  felt  it  so  even  under  my  blan- 
kets, which  I  last  night  resumed.  Occupied  myself  determinedly  in 
entering  arrears  of  record  which,  as  my  writing  shows,  is  not,  with 
the  motion  of  the  engine,  a  very  easy  task.  I  ought  not  to  forget 
the  graceful  drapery  of  the  wild  vine  in  the  woods,  which  contrasts  so 
beautifully  with  the  sad  and  gloomy  shrouding  of  the  gray  moss.  The 
relief  of  this  red-bud,  to  the  bright  spring-green  of  the  woods,"  is  very 
lively.  Entered  arrears  of  record  some  days  due.  Walked,  watching 
the  passing  steamboats,  Mohawk,  Duchess,  Buckeye,  etc.  The  flat- 
boats,  which  are  from  70  to  100  feet  long,  and  from  17  to  20  in  width, 
are  broken  up  for  lumber  at  New  Orleans,  the  good  passage'  to  which 
is  about  seventeen  days.  Saw  the  log-huts  standing  in  the  water, 
quite  insulated,  children,  women,  etc.,  within.  Bead  through  in  the 
afternoon  Haliburton's  book  of  the  "  Old  Judge,"  the  first  of  his  I 
have  read,  but  which  seemed  to  me  like  the  rinsings  of  his  ingenuity 
and  memory;  he  has  humor  and  descriptive  power,  but  his  style 
is  sometimes  too  ambitious.  Went  early  to  bed.  Watched  in  the 
morning  the  flocks  of  wild  geese  flying  in  their  letter  or  figure  form. 

27th.  —  Rose  at  my  usual  hour  and  regretted  to  learn  that  I  had 
missed  seeing  the  conflux  of  the  Mississippi  and  Ohio,  we  having 
entered  the  Ohio  at  about  three  or  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  and 
being  now  forty  miles  up  the  stream.  Passed  the  towns  of  Paducah 
and  Smithland,  the  entrance  of  Cumberland  River.  Began  letter  to 
dear  Catherine.  Tried  to  read  Gould's  abridged  edition  of  "  Alison's 
Europe."  Oh,  my  dear  Gould,  I  might  as  well  try  to  read  the  abridged 
"  Gazettes  "  from  1789  to  the  present  time.  Began  letter  to  dear 
Nina.  Pleased  with  the  river,  the  rafts,  flat-boats,  and  several  steam- 
ers passing  down.  Looked  for  books  in  the  steamboat  collection  ; 
selected  Head's  "  Bubbles  of  the  Brunnens ; "  found  in  it  much  hu- 
mor, good  description,  philanthropic  and  philosophic  observations, 
alloyed  by  not  a  little  coxcombry  and  one-sidedness.  Mr.  Clay 
introduced  me  to  another  Louisville  gentleman,  who  showed  me  a 
paragraph  in  a  paper  stating  that  Mr.  Forrest  had  come  out  with 
another,  not  card,  but  letter,  "  weak  and  poor."  Dickens  may  well 
say,  I  have  given  him  money  to  attack  me.  Read  "  Brunnens,"  till 
late. 

Louisville,  March  28th.  —  The  banks  of  the  river  are  beautiful, 
constantly  varying  in  form  and  surface,  alternating  rock,  wood,  hill, 
and  meadow  ground  in  beautiful  combinations.  This  is  called,  or 
was,  "  La  Belle  Riviere,"  and  is  justly  entitled  to  the  name.  Our 
voyage  ends  to-day.  Oh,  God,  for  how  much  have  I  not  cause  to 
be  grateful !  rescued  from  sickness,  pestilence,  and  death,  and  blessed 
with  peculiar  favor,  my  heart  rises  in  humble  gratitude  to  Thee, 
the  giver  of  all  —  of  all.  Blessed  by  thy  name,  ever  and  ever. 
Amen. 


590  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1849. 

Walked  before  breakfast.  Read  in  "  Brunnens."  Entered  arrears 
of  record.  Read  and  finished  the  "  Brunnens,"  an  amusing  book 
with  some  good  thoughts,  good  writing,  and  much  conceit  of  thought 
and  style  occasionally.  Wrote  to  dearest  Catherine,  and  to  my  Nina. 
Reached  a  place  on  the  river,  where  uptorn  trees,  others  broke  short 
in  two,  of  vast  size,  gave  signs  of  a  most  fearful  hurricane.  Reached 
Louisville.  Mr.  Clay  offered  to  convey  me  to  the  hotel,  but  he  was 
so  surrounded  by  friends  and  admirers  that  I  got  out  of  the  crowd 
and  came  up  alone.  Met  Mr.  Ryder  at  the  hotel,  Gait  House.  Re- 
ceived telegraph  from  Mr.  Bates,  giving  terms  asked,  so  I  am  booked 
for  Cincinnati  and  Louisville.  Walked  to  the  post-office  and  tele- 
graph ;  telegraphed  to  Bates.  Walked,  attended  to  business,  looked 
at  papers.  Spoke  with  Ryder  on  my  engagements,  which  I  tried  to 
arrange.  Wrote  to  Barry,  wrote  to  Halty.  Peylona  steamboat : 
length,  2G5  feet ;  breadth  of  beam,  34£  feet ;  depth  of  hold,  8  feet  3 
inches;  diameter  of  wheel,  36  feet;  length  of  paddle,  18  feet;  ex- 
treme breadth,  72  feet ;  length  of  cabin,  224  feet ;  fifty  state  rooms, 
8X9  feet. 

29<A.  —  Before  leaving  Louisville,  the  time  for  embarking  having 
arrived,  I  asked  to  see  Mr.  Clay,  and  the  hotel-keeper,  Major  Throg- 
morton,  showed  me  to  his  room.  I  took  a  very  cordial  leave  of  him 
as  he  of  me  ;  he  enjoined  me  to  tell  Lord  Carlisle  how  much  he  felt 
obliged  to  him  for  his  attention  to  his  friends,  and  told  me  how  glad 
he  should  be  to  see  any  friends  of  mine,  which  I  reciprocated,  and  left 
him  never  to  meet  again  in  this  world.  Went  on  board  the  steamboat 
Benjamin  Franklin,  a  very  large  handsome  boat,  the  interior  decorated 
in  Gothic  arches  the  whole  length  of  the  boat  and  very  elegantly 
arranged,  but  more  cramped  than  the  Peytona  and  much  more  unpleas- 
ant motion.  Met  several  of  my  Peytona  fellow-passengers  on  board.  It 
seems  the  captain  of  the  Bostona  had  said  that,  in  his  next  voyage  up 
the  river,  he  will  "  either  come  into  Louisville  before  the  Peytona,  or 
with  his  feet  foremost."  Thus  the  lives  of  passengers  are  endangered 
for  this  poor  ambition  of  a  steamboat  captain  !  Walked  on  deck  for 
some  time. 

Walked,  not  being  able  to  see  by  the  lamplight.  Went  early  to  bed, 
but  something  in  the  machinery  had  given  way,  and  after  blundering 
and  botching  and  creeping  along  and  stopping,  we  at  last  made  a  wait 
of  about  three  hours  at  Madison.  I  was  awoke  by  the  jerking  of  the 
engine  as  we  resumed  our  course,  and  getting  up,  half-dressed,  lay  down 
again,  but  to  a  very  uncomfortable  night. 

Cincinnati,  March  30th.  —  Continued  our  course  up  the  beautiful 
Ohio  to  Cincinnati,  where  we  landed,  and  I,  having  seen  my  landlord 
on  board,  a  fellow-passenger,  went  up  to  the  Broadway  Hotel,  and 
found  my  rooms  ready  for  me.  Posted  my  letters  for  England.  So 
tired  when  I  returned  that  I  dropped  asleep  as  I  sat  on  the  sofa.  Mr. 
Bates  and  his  stage-manager  called  and  ratified  the  engagement,  wish- 
ing two  nights  thrown  in,  which  I  could  not  accede  to. 

20th.  —  Entertained  at  a  public  dinner. 


1849.  DISTURBANCE  IN  THEATER,  NEW  YORK.  591 

[  April  2d  to  April  14th.  —  Engagement  at  Cincinnati.] 
Cincinnati  April  2d.  —  "Went  to  rehearsal.  Found  a  most  disgrace- 
fully imperfect  Horatio,  who  had  rehearsed  on  Saturday  and  now 
knew  nothing  of  words  or  business,  one  of  those  wretches  who  take  to 
the  stage  as  an  escape  from  labor,  and  for  whom  the  treadmill  would 
be  a  fitting  punishment.  Rested.  Acted  Hamlet  to  a  rather  ricketty 
audience,  but  I  tried  my  utmost,  and  engaged  the  attention  of  at  least 
the  greater  part  of  the  auditory.  In  the  scene  after  the  play  with 
Rosencrantz  and  Guildensteme,  an  occurrence  took  place  that,  for  dis- 
gusting brutality,  indecent  outrage,  and  malevolent  barbarism,  must 
be  without  parallel  in  the  theater  of  any  civilized  community.  Whilst 
speaking  to  them  about  "  the  pipe,"  a  ruffian  from  the  left  side  gallery 
threw  into  the  middle  of  the  stage,  the  half  of  the  raw  carcass  of  a 
sheep  !  Of  course,  there  is  no  commenting  on  such  sheer  brutality. 
The  audience  were,  of  course,  indignant,  and  when  I  came  on  in  the 
closet  scene,  quite  stopped  the  play  with  their  prolonged  and  vehement 
applause.  I  felt  for  them ;  and  I  feel  for  humanity  in  the  degrading 
circumstances.  Was  called  and  went  on  and,  bowing,  came  off. 
\_April  16th  to  April  21st.  —  Engagement  at  Louisville.] 
21st  —  Virginius.  Rested;  acted  Virginius  very  well.  Called; 
was  going  off  in  silence,  but  the  sort  of  consternation  of  the  audience 
induced  me  to  return  and  observe  that  it  was  evident  they  expected  me 
to  address  them.  "  Of  course,"  called  out  a  person  in  second  tier. 
"  Not  at  all,  '  of  course,'  "  I  rejoined  ;  and  then,  making  a  few  obser- 
vations upon  the  absurd  custom  of  a  player  obtruding  his  egotism  or 
flatteries  upon  his  audience,  took  leave  with  wishes  for  the  prosperity 
and  advancement  of  their  flourishing  city  and  noble  state.  Ryder 
came  into  my  room  and  smoked  his  cigar. 

New  York  May  7th.  —  Rehearsed  with  much  care.  Looked  at  some 
papers  (N.  Y.)  sent  to  me.  Received  note  from  Silliman,  which 
I  answered.  Rested.  Went  to  theater,  dressed.  My  hair-dresser 
told  me  there  would  be  a  good  house,  for  there  was  —  an  unusual 
sight  —  a  great  crowd  outside.  My  call  came  ;  I  had  heard  immense 
applause  and  three  cheers  for  Mr.  Clarke  in  Macduff.  I  smiled  and 
said  to  myself,  "  They  mistake  him  for  me."  I  went  on,  the  greatest 
applause,  as  it  seemed,  from  the  whole  house.  I  bowed  respectfully, 
repeatedly.  It  still  kept  on.  I  bowed  as  it  were  emphatically  (to 
coin  an  expression  for  a  bow),  rather  significantly,  that  I  was  touched 
by  such  a  demonstration  ;  it  continued.  I  thought,  "  This  is  becoming 
too  much."  It  did  not  cease,  and  I  began  to  distinguish  bowlings  from 
the  right  corner  of  the  parquette.  Still,  I  thought,  it  is  only  like  the 
Western  shriek  —  a  climax  of  their  applause.  At  length  I  became 
sensible  there  was  opposition,  and  that  the  prolongation  of  the  applause 
was  the  struggle  against  it ;  I  then  waited  for  its  subsidence,  but  no 
cessation  ;  I  at  last  walked  forward  to  address  them,  intending  to  say 
—  "I  felt  pain  and  shame,  which  the  intelligent  and  respectable  must 
feel  for  their  country's  reputation,  and  that  I  would  instantly  resign 
my  engagement  rather  than  encounter  such  disgraceful  conduct." 


592  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1849. 

They  would  not  let  me  speak.  They  hung  out  placards  —  "  You 
have  been  proved  a  liar,"  etc. ;  flung  a  rotten  egg  close  to  me.  I 
pointed  it  to  the  audience  and  smiled  with  contempt,  persisting  in  my 
endeavor  to  be  heard.  I  could  not  have  been  less  than  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  on  the  stage  altogether,  with  perfect  sangfroid  and  good  hu- 
mor, reposing  in  the  consciousness  of  my  own  truth.  At  last  there 
was  nothing  for  it,  and  I  said  "  Go  on,"  and  the  play, "  Macbeth,"  pro- 
ceeded in  dumb  show,  I  hurrying  the  players  on.  Copper  cents  were 
thrown,  some  struck  me,  four  or  five  eggs,  a  great  many  apples, 
nearly  —  if  not  quite  —  a  peck  of  potatoes,  lemons,  pieces  of  wood,  a 
bottle  of  asafoetida  which  splashed  my  own  dress,  smelling,  of  course, 
most  horribly.  The  first  act,  at  least  in  my  scenes,  with  these  accom- 
paniments, passed  in  dumb  show  ;  I  looking  directly  at  these  men  as 
they  committed  these  outrages,  and  no  way  moved  by  them.  Behind 
the  scenes  some  attempted  to  exhibit  sympathy,  which  I  received  very 
loftily,  observing,  "  My  concern  was  for  the  disgrace  such  people  in- 
flicted on  the  character  of  the  country."  The  second  act  closed  ex- 
actly in  the  same  way.  I  dressed  for  the  third  and  went  on  ;  the  tu- 
mult the  same,  the  missiles  growing  thicker.  At  last  a  chair  was 
thrown  from  the  gallery  on  the  stage,  something  heavy  was  thrown 
into  the  orchestra  (a  chair)  which  made  the  remaining  musicians  move 
out.  Another  chair  was  hurled  by  the  same  man,  whom  I  saw  delib- 
erately throw  it,  then  wrench  up  another,  and  throw  it  too  —  I  bowed 
to  the  audience,  and  going  up  to  Mr.  Chippendale,  observed  that  I 
thought  "  I  had  quite  fulfilled  my  obligation  to  Messrs.  Niblo  and 
Hackett,  and  that  I  should  now  remain  no  longer." 

I  accordingly  went  down  and  undressed ;  Golden  was  there  and 
•  seemed  to  apprehend  danger  out  of  doors ;  I  did  not.  However,  I 
took  my  dirk,  but  thinking  it  unworthy  to  carry  it,  threw  it  down 
again.  Golden  (who  made  too  much  of  it),  Tallmadge,  and  Emmett 
walked  home  with  me  ;  there  was  no  sign  of  any  attempt  in  the  back 
street,  but  there  was  a  crowd  at  the  front  door,  which  Golden  had  not 
been  able  to  penetrate,  and  which,  the  Chief  of  the  Police  informed 
me  afterwards,  made  the  strongest  efforts  to  break  into  the  house. 
Golden  was  with  me  and  Ruggleston  came  and  joined  us.  I  was  in 
the  best  spirits,  and  we  talked  over  what  was  to  be  done.  Several 
things  proposed,  rejected,  and  certain  things  decided  on,  but  so  hastily 
that  when  they  were  gone  I  perceived  the  course  was  yet  to  be  fixed 
on.  A  Mr.  Bennett  —  stranger  —  came,  as  he  said,  from  young  As- 
tor  and  other  names  of  the  first,  he  said,  to  say  that  this  should  be 
resisted,  and  to  convey  to  me  the  expression  of  their  regret,  etc.  I 
was  not  quite  sure  of  my  man.  Gould  came,  when  they  were  gone, 
in  great  distress,  having  heard  all  from  Duyckinck.  Our  conversa- 
tion overturned  the  decision  with  Ruggles  and  Golden.  He  gone,  Mr. 
Monnitt,  my  landlord,  and  one  of  the  heads  of  the  police  called,  to 
show  me  a  deposition  taken  from  one  of  the  rioters  who  had  been 
captured,  and  who,  because  he  cried  very  much  was  set  at  liberty. 
I  asked  leave  to  copy  the  deposition  and  I  am  about  to  do  it,  and  I 


1849.  REQUISITION  TO  ACT  AGAIN.  593 

suppose  shall  have  a  long  night's  writing.  And  this  is  my  treatment ! 
Being  left  alone,  I  begin  to  feel  more  seriously  the  indignities  put  on 
me,  and  entertain  ideas  of  not  going  on  the  stage  again.  Pray  God 
I  may  do  what  is  right.  I  will  try  to  do  so.  1  thank  His  goodness 
that  I  am  safe  and  unharmed.  Wrote  to  dearest  Catherine. 

8^.  —  Rose  in  good  time  with  headache.  Look  at  papers.  "  New 
York  Herald,"  which  gave  a  semi-facetious,  insidious,  and,  as  regards 
myself,  incorrect  account  of  the  brutality  of  last  night.  Saw  other 
papers,  "  Courier,"  "  Enquirer,"  and  the  "  Express  " —  good  notices. 
Wrote  to  dear  Catherine.  Sent  Michell  to  inquire  about  berth  in  the 
America  for  to-morrow  week.  Gould  called,  Duyckihck,  Hacketts, 
father  and  son,  Crowder,  Golden,  Judge  Kent,  Ruggles.  They  talked 
much  on  what  was  to  be  done  —  I  resolved  not  to  act  to-night,  and 
am  disinclined  to  appear  again,  but  they  are  gone  to  collect  names  in 
requisition  to  me  to  continue  my  engagement.  It  was  thought  by  me 
that  if  I  did  appear,  it  should  not  be  before  Friday.  Ruggles  came 
in  again ;  he  told  me  that  Theod.  Sedgwick  had  declined  to  sign  the 
requisition  to  me  ;  his  only  plea,  that  he  was  Forrest's  counsel. 

9th.  —  Duyckinck  called,  R.  Emmett,  Golden,  Hackett,  and  Niblo. 
On  deliberating  and  canvassing  the  matter,  originally  intending  to 
begin  on  Friday,  I  decided  on  acting  upon  Thursday,  whilst  "  the  ex- 
citement was  strong  in  favor  of  order."  Note  from  Gould,  intimating 
the  necessity  of  my  publishing  an  answer  to  the  requisition  to  me.  Set 
about  it.  Gould  came ;  he  is  indefatigable ;  he  is  a  true  friend. 
Hackett  paid  me.  Wrote  answers  to  requisition.  Dined  with  Starr 
Miller  ;  a  very  elegant  entertainment  indeed. 

New  York,  May  10th.  —  Read  the  papers  with  much  satisfaction  ; 
"  Courier,"  "  Express,"  taking  a  just  and  good  tone.  The  Recorder 
called,  Mr.  Tallmadge,  and  assured  me  that  every  measure  should  be 
taken  to  insure  the  tranquillity  of  the  house  to-night,  etc. ;  I  told  him 
of  the  deposition  before  Justice  Mumford,  and  he  was  displeased  that 
the  matter  had  not  been  communicated  officially  to  him.  He  left  me 
very  cordially  and  with  great  confidence.  Bates  (of  Portland  Place, 
London),  called  with  a  friend  just  to  shake  hands.  I  was  going  to  the 
theater  to  rehearsal ;  went  there ;  saw  the  performers,  all  in  good 
spirits  ;  ran  through  the  scenes  of  "  Macbeth  "  for  fear  the  excitement 
of  Monday  night  might  have  put  the  business  from  their  memories. 
Spoke  with  Messrs.  Sefton  and  Chippendale,  expressing  my  own  opin- 
ion that  there  would  not  be  the  slightest  demonstration  of  opposition. 
They  thought  there  might  be  a  hiss  or  perhaps  two  at  the  beginning, 
but  that  it  could  be  instantly  silenced.  Mr.  Clarke  apologized  and  ex- 
plained to  me  what  he  had  said  to  the  audience  on  the  previous  Mon- 
day. Was  inconvenienced  by  the  smell  of  the  asafcetida  in  the  green 
cloth  at  the  side  of  the  stage,  and  gave  directions  that  it  should  not  be 
used  to-night.  Returned  to  hotel. 

Letter  from  Sumner ;  very  indignant.  Sent  check  and  book  to 
bank.  Golden  called  and  chatted ;  talked  of  last  night ;  all  in  the 
best  spirit.  Entered  arrears  of  record  until  time  to  lie  down.  Rose, 
38 


594  MACKEADTS  DIARIES.  1849. 

shaved,  and  dressed ;  found  three  letters  on  my  table  from  Hillard, 
George  Curtis,  and  a  Mrs.  Charles  —  the  last,  an  application  to  see 
and  give  counsel  and  instruction  to  her  daughter ;  the  first,  over-boil- 
ing with  furious  indignation  at  the  occurrences  of  Monday  night,  and 
full  of  generous  approbation  of  my  behavior  throughout  my  sojourn 
here  ;  from  George  Curtis  was  a  hearty  and  earnest  invitation  to  me 
to  make  his  house  my  home  whilst  I  should  remain  at  Boston.  I  was 
thinking  that  I  ought  not  to  linger  to  read  these  letters,  but  happily 
my  curiosity  was  stronger  than  my  respect  to  rigid  duty,  and  I  read 
them  before  I  placed  them  in  my  desk. 

I  went,  gayly,  I  may  say,  to  the  theater,  and  on  my  way,  looking 
down  Astor  Place,  saw  one  of  the  Harlem  cars  on  the  railroad  stop 
and  discharge  a  full  load  of  policemen  ;  there  seemed  to  be  others  at 
the  door  of  the  theater.  I  observed  to  myself,  "  This  is  good  precau- 
tion." I  went  to  my  dressing-room,  and  proceeded  with  the  evening's 
business.  The  hair-dresser  was  very  late  and  my  equanimity  was  dis- 
turbed. I  was  ruffled  and  nervous  from  fear  of  being  late,  but  soon 
composed  myself.  The  managers  were  delaying  the  beginning,  and  I 
was  unwilling  to  be  behind  the  exact  hour. 

The  play  began  ;  there  was  some  applause  to  Mr.  Clarke  (I  write 
of  what  I  could  hear  in  my  room  below).  I  was  called,  and  at  my 
cue  went  on  with  full  assurance,  confidence,  and  cheerfulness.  My 
reception  was  very  enthusiastic,  but  I  soon  discovered  that  there  was 
opposition,  though  less  numerously  manned  than  on  Monday.  I  went 
right  on  when  I  found  that  it  would  not  instantly  be  quelled,  looking 
at  the  wretched  creatures  in  the  parquette,  who  shook  their  fists  vio- 
lently at  me,  and  called  out  to  me  in  savage  firry.  I  laughed  at  them, 
pointing  them  out  with  my  truncheon  to  the  police,  who,  I  feared,  were 
about  to  repeat  the  inertness  of  the  previous  evening.  A  blackboard 
with  white  letters  was  leaned  against  the  side  of  the  proscenium :  "  The 
friends  of  order  will  remain  silent,"  This  had  some  effect  in  making 
the  rioters  more  conspicuous. 

My  first,  second,  third  scenes  passed  over  rapidly  and  unheard ;  at 
the  end  of  the  fourth  one  of  the  officers  gave  a  signal,  the  police 
rushed  in  at  the  two  sides  of  the  parquette,  closed  in  upon  the  scoun- 
drels occupying  the  centre  seats  and  furiously  vociferating  and  gestic- 
ulating, and  seemed  to  lift  them  or  bundle  them  in  a  body  out  of  the 
center  of  the  house,  amid  the  cheers  of  the  audience.  I  was  in  the 
act  of  making  my  exit  with  Lady  Macbeth,  and  stopped  to  witness 
this  clever  maneuver,  which,  like  a  coup  de  main,  swept  the  place  clear 
at  once.  As  well  as  I  can  remember  the  bombardment  outside  now 
began.  Stones  were  hurled  against  the  windows  in  Eighth  Street, 
smashing  many  ;  the  work  of  destruction  became  then  more  system- 
atic ;  the  volleys  of  stones  flew  without  intermission,  battering  and 
smashing  all  before  them  ;  the  Gallery  and  Upper  Gallery  still  kept 
up  the  din  within,  aided  by  the  crashing  of  glass  and  boarding  with- 
out. The  second  act  passed,  the  noise  and  violence  without  increasing, 
the  contest  within  becoming  feebler.  Mr.  Povey,  as  I  was  going  to 


1849.  GREAT  RIOT  IN  NEW  YORK.  595 

my  raised  seat  in  the  banquet  scene,  came  up  to  me  and,  in  an  under- 
tone and  much  frightened,  urged  me  to  cut  out  some  part  of  the  play 
and  bring  it  to  a  close.  I  turned  round  upon  him  very  sharply,  and 
said  that  "  I  had  consented  to  do  this  thing  —  to  place  myself  here, 
and  whatever  the  consequence  I  must  go  through  with  it  —  it  must  be 
done  ;  that  I  could  not  cut  out.  The  audience  had  paid  for  so  much, 
and  the  law  compelled  me  to  give  it ;  they  would  have  cause  for  riot 
if  all  were  not  properly  done."  I  was  angry,  and  spoke  very  sharply 
to  the  above  effect. 

The  banquet  scene  was  partially  heard  and  applauded.  I  went  down 
to  change  my  dress,  the  battering  at  the  building  doors,  and  windows 
growing,  like  the  fiends  at  the  Old  Woman  of  Berkly's  burial,  louder 
and  louder.  Water  was  running  down  fast  from  the  ceiling  to  the 
floor  of  my  room  and  making  a  pool  there.  I  inquired ;  the  stones 
hurled  in  had  broken  some  of  the  pipes.  The  fourth  act  passed  ;  louder 
and  more  fierce  waxed  the  furious  noises  against  the  building  and  from 
without :  for  whenever  a  missile  did  effectual  mischief  in  its  discharge 
it  was  hailed  with  shouts  outside ;  stones  came  in  through  the  windows, 
and  one  struck  the  chandelier ;  the  audience  removed  for  protection 
behind  the  walls ;  the  house  was  considerably  thinned,  gaps  of  unoc- 
cupied seats  appearing  in  the  audience  part.  The  fifth  act  was  heard, 
and  in  the  very  spirit  of  resistance  I  flung  my  whole  soul  into  every 
word  I  uttered,  acting  my  very  best  and  exciting  the  audience  to  a 
sympathy  even  with  the  glowing  words  of  fiction,  whilst  these  dread- 
ful deeds  of  real  crime  and  outrage  were  roaring  at  intervals  in  our 
ears  and  rising  to  madness  all  round  us.  The  death  of  Macbeth  was 
loudly  cheered,  and  on  being  lifted  up  and  told  that  I  was  called,  I 
went  on,  and,  with  action  earnestly  and  most  emphatically  expressive 
of  my  sympathy  with  them  and  my  feelings  of  gratefulness  to  them,  I 
quitted  the  New  York  stage  amid  the  acclamations  of  those  before  me. 

Going  to  my  room  I  began  without  loss  of  time  to  undress,  but  with 
no  feeling  of  fear  or  apprehension.  When  washed  and  half  dressed, 
persons  came  into  my  room  —  consternation  on  the  faces  of  some,  fear, 
anxiety,  and  distress  on  those  of  others.  "  The  mob  were  getting 
stronger ;  why  were  not  the  military  sent  for  ?  "  "  They  were  here." 
"  Where  ?  Why  did  they  not  act  ?  "  "  They  were  not  here  ;  they 
were  drawn  up  in  the  Bowery."  "  Of  what  use  were  they  there  ?  " 
Other  arrivals.  "  The  military  had  come  upon  the  ground."  "  Why 
did  they  not  disperse  the  mob  then  ?  "  These  questions  and  answers, 
with  many  others,  were  passed  to  and  fro  among  the  persons  round  me 
whilst  I  was  finishing  my  hasty  toilet,  I  occasionally  putting  in  a  ques- 
tion or  remark.  Suddenly  we  heard  a  volley  of  musketry  :  "  Hark ! 
what's  that?"  I  asked.  "The  soldiers  have  fired/'  "My  God!"  I 
exclaimed.  Another  volley,  and  another  !  The  question  among  those 
surrounding  me  (there  were,  that  I  remember,  Rugglee,  Judge  Kent, 
D.  Golden,  R.  Emmett,  a  friend  of  his  in  some  official  station,  Fry, 
Sefton,  Chippendale,  and  I  think  the  performer  who  played  Malcolm, 
etc.)  was,  which  way  was  I  to  go  out  ?  News  came  that  several  were 


596  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1849. 

killed ;  I  was  really  insensible  to  the  degree  of  danger  in  which  I 
stood,  and  saw  at  once  —  there  being  no  avoidance  —  there  was  noth- 
ing for  it  but  to  meet  the  worst  with  dignity,  and  so  I  stood  prepared. 

They  sent  some  one  to  reconnoiter,  and  urged  the  necessity  of  a 
change  in  my  appearance.  I  was  confident  that  people  did  not  know 
my  person,  and  repeated  this  belief.  They  overbore  all  objections, 
and  took  the  drab  surtout  of  the  performer  of  Malcolm,  he  taking  my 
black  one ;  they  insisted  too  that  I  must  not  wear  my  hat :  1  said 
"  Very  well ;  lend  me  a  cap."  Mr.  Sefton  gave  me  his,  which  was  cut 
all  up  the'  back  to  go  upon  my  head.  Thus  equipped  I  went  out,  fol- 
lowing Robert  Emmett  to  the  stage  door ;  here  we  were  stopped,  not 
being  allowed  to  pass.  The  "  friend"  was  to  follow  us  as  a  sort  of 
aide,  but  we  soon  lost  him.  We  crossed  the  stage,  descended  into  the 
orchestra,  got  over  into  the  parquette,  and  passing  into  the  centre  pas- 
sage went  along  with  the  thin  stream  of  the  audience  moving  out.  We 
went  right  on,  down  the  flight  of  stairs  and  out  of  the  door  into 
Eighth  Street.  All  was  clear  in  front  —  kept  so  by  two  cordons  or 
lines  of  police  at  either  end  of  the  building  stretched  right  across.  We 
passed  the  line  near  Broadway,  and  went  on  threading  the  excited 
crowd,  twice  or  three  times  muttering  in  Emmett's  ear,  "  You  are 
walking  too  fast."  We  crossed  Broadway,  still  through  a  scattered 
crowd,  and  walked  on  along  Clinton  Place  till  we  passed  the  street 
leading  down  to  the  New  York  Hotel.  I  then  said  "  Are  you  going 
to  your  own  house  ?  "  "  Yes."  We  reached  it,  and  having  opened 
the  door  with  a  latch-key,  closing  it  after  us,  he  said,  "  You  are  safe 
here  ;  no  one  will  know  anything  about  you  ;  you  shall  have  a  bed  in 
ten  minutes  or  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  you  may  depend  upon  all  in 
this  house." 

I  sat  down  in  the  drawing-room,  talking  of  the  facts  about  us,  and 
wondering  at  myself  and  my  condition,  secretly  preparing  myself  for  the 
worst  result,  viz.,  falling  into  the  hands  of  these  sanguinary  ruffians. 
A  son  of  Emmett's  was  there,  Robert ;  in  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
Golden  came  in.  Several  men  had  been  killed,  how  many  not  cer- 
tainly known  yet.  "  You  must  leave  the  city  at  once  ;  you  must  not 
stay  here ! "  It  was  then  a  consultation  between  these  excellent 
friends,  I  putting  in  an  occasional  opinion  objecting  or  suggesting  upon 
the  safest  course  to  pursue.  At  length  it  was  decided,  and  Robert  wa> 
sent  out  to  find  Richard,  another  son,  probably  at  the  Racket  Club,  to 
put  the  plan  in  execution.  He  was  met  by  Robert  in  the  street, 
and  both  returned  with  additional  reports :  the  crowd  was  still  there, 
the  excitement  still  active.  Richard  was  sent  to  the  livery  stable  to 
order  a  carriage  and  good  pair  of  horses  to  be  at  Emmett's  door  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  "  to  take  a  doctor  to  some  gentleman's 
house  near  New  Rochelle."  This  was  done  and  well  done  by  him  ; 
Golden  and  Emmett  went  out  to  reconnoiter,  and  they  had,  as  I 
learned  from  Emmett,  gone  to  the  New  York  Hotel,  at  the  door  of 
which  was  still  a  knot  of  watchers,  and  to  Emmett's  inquiries  told 
him,  if  any  threats  were  made,  to  allow  a  committee  of  the  crowd  to 


1849.  ESCAPE  FROM  THE  THEATER.  597 

enter  and  search  the  house  for  me.  Emmett  returned  with  my  own 
hat,  one  from  the  hotel,  and  I  had  got  Colden's  coat.  An  omnibus 
drove  furiously  down  the  street,  followed  by  a  shouting  crowd.  We 
asked  Richard,  when  he  came  in,  what  it  was,  he  said,  "  Merely  an  om- 
nibus," but  next  morning  he  told  me  that  he  asked  the  men  pursuing 
"  What  was  the  matter  ?  "  and  one  answered,  "  Macready  's  in  that  om- 
nibus ;  they  've  killed  twenty  of  us,  and  by  G we  '11  kill  him  !  " 

Well,  all  was  settled ;  it  was  believed  that  twenty  had  perished.  Rob- 
ert went  to  bed  to  his  wife.  Emmett  went  up- stairs  to  lie  down, 
which  I  declined  to  do,  and  with  Richard  went  down  into  the  comfort- 
able office  below  before  a  good  fire  and,  by  the  help  of  a  cigar,  to 
count  the  slow  -hours  till  four  o'clock.  We  talked  and  he  dozed,  and  I 
listened  to  the  sounds  of  the  night,  and  thought  of  home,  and  what 
would  be  the  anguish  of  hearts  there  if  I  fell  in  this  brutal  outbreak  ; 
but  I  resolved  to  do  what  was  right  and  becoming.  The  clock  struck 
four ;  we  were  on  the  move ;  Emmett  came  down ;  sent  Richard  to 
look  after  the  carriage.  All  was  still  in  the  dawn  of  morning,  but  we 
waited  some  ten  minutes  —  an  age  of  suspense  —  the  carriage  ar- 
rived. I  shook  the  hand  of  my  preserver  and  friend  —  my  heart  re- 
sponded to  my  parting  prayer  of  "  God  bless  him,"  and  stepping  into 
the  carriage  —  a  covered  phaeton,  we  turned  up  Fifth  Avenue,  and 
were  on  our  way  to  safety.  Thank  God. 

During  some  of  the  time  of  waiting,  I  had  felt  depressed  and  rather 
low,  but  I  believe  I  showed  no  fear,  and  felt  determined  to  do  my 
duty,  whatever  it  might  be,  acting  or  suffering.  We  met  only  market 
carts,  butchers'  or  gardeners',  and  laborers  going  to  their  early  work  ; 
the  morning  was  clear  and  fresh,  and  the  air  was  cooling  to  my  fore- 
head, hot  and  aching  with  want  of  sleep.  The  scenery,  through  which 
we  passed,  crossing  the  Manhattan,  giving  views  of  the  various  inlets 
of  the  Sound,  diversified  with  gentlemen's  seats,  at  any  other  time 
would  have  excited  an  interest  in  me  :  now  one  thought  or  series  of 
thoughts,  with  wanderings  to  home,  and  my  beloved  ones,  gave  me  no 
time  for  passing  objects.  I  thought  as  we  passed  Harlem  Station,  it 
would  never  have  done  to  have  ventured  there.  Some  of  the  places 
on  the  road  were  familiar  to  my  recollection,  having  been  known 
under  happier  circumstances.1 

Boston,  May  \\th.  —  Reaching  New  Rochelle  a  little  before  seven 
o'clock,  we  got  breakfast,  and  Richard  decided  on  leaving  me  here ; 
but,  in  the  bar-room,  the  landlord  asked  me,  "  Did  you  come  from 
New  York  this  morning  ?  "  I  was  taken  aback.  "  Yes."  "  Did  you 
hear  of  a  riot  there  last  night  ?  "  "  Yes,  I  did."  "  Was  it  a  very  bad 
one  ?  "  "  Yes,  I  believe  so,"  and  I  walked  out.  Seeing  Emmett,  I 
suggested  the  advisability  of  his  accompanying  me  to  New  Haven  in 

1  In  the  following  month  of  September  ten  of  the  Astor  Place  rioters  were  tried 
at  the  court  of  General  Sessions,  New  York,  before  Judge  Daly  and  a  jury,  and 
after  a  trial  of  fifteen  days  were  all  convicted.  The  sentences  varied  from  one 
month's  imprisonment  to  imprisonment  for  one  year  and  payment  of  a  fine  of 
§250.  —  ED. 


598  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1849. 

case  of  similar  occurrences  in  the  cars,  when  I  might  be  at  fault,  and 
he  could  take  the  office  of  spokesman,  to  which  lie  readily  assented. 
He  told  me  (we  wondering  how  the  news  could  have  got  here,  nine- 
teen miles)  that  the  subject  had  been  discussed  in  a  conjectural  sort 
of  style  at  the  breakfast  table,  after  I  had  left  it,  but  that  all  spoke 
favorably  of  me ;  on  the  platform  of  the  station  among  the  arriving 
passengers  were  two,  one  of  whom,  I  saw,  knew  me.  Kichard  E. 
thought  not ;  I  became  convinced  of  it,  and  my  belief  was  verified  by 
the  annoying  consequence.  He  told  some  acquaintances  as  the  cars 
arrived  of  the  fact ;  they  communicated  to  others,  and  my  identity 
was  enjoyed  by  successive  crowds  of  starers,  to  whom  and  from  whom 
the  news  was  handed  along  down  the  whole  course  of  the  railroad, 
even  to  Boston  city.  We  got  the  different  papers,  and  there  read  the 
horrible  details,  fifteen  killed  —  it  turned  out  to  be  seventeen  —  and 
several  wounded !  The  conductor  was  particularly  civil  and  attentive 
to  me.  Richard  E.  left  me  as  I  entered  the  Springfield  cars  at  New 
Haven.  Here  a  group  of  four  began  a  conversation  at  me,  I  sitting 
near  them,  but  on  the  same  side,  "  wondering,  however,  if  I  should  play 
to-night  again,"  etc.  I  sat  silent ;  another  person  came  and  sat  behind 
me  and,  leaning  over,  asked  me,  "  Are  you  going  to  act  at  Boston  ?  " 
"  No."  "  Shall  you  read  there  ?  "  "  No."  "  Um  —  a  terrible  business 
last  night  ? "  "  Yes,  very  shocking,"  etc.  Reaching  Boston  I  got 
into  a  cab,  no  one  near  me,  and  drove  at  once  to  my  dear  friend, 
George  Curtis,  whose  invitation  yesterday  received,  appeared  almost 
providential.  He  soon  after  came  in  'and  was  heart  glad  to  see  me; 
the  telegraph  had  given  the  main  facts.  Hillard  came,  Benjamin 
Curtis,  whom  I  like,  Ticknor,  all  most  cordial,  congratulating  me  on 
my  assured  safety.  I  inquired  if  it  were  needful  to  go  on  to  Halifax, 
but  they  said  my  safety  was  assured  here.  What  an  age  of  feeling, 
of  event,  of  suffering,  has  passed  since  yesterday  afternoon !  Thank 
God  that  I  am  here,  that  I  live. 

12th.  —  Woke  early;  unable  to  dress  myself  from  want  of  clothes 
or  shaving  and  dressing  implements.  Thought  much  and  long  on 
letters  and  things  to  be  done.  Curtis  spoke  and  told  me,  whilst  1  was 
dressing  or  trying  to  dress,  that  my  servant  had  come.  Golden,  who 
had  written  to  me  by  him,  had  sent  him  away  with  every  portion  of 
my  luggage.  This  was  not  quite  what  I  wished,  but  perhaps  there 
was  no  alternative.  He  brought  some  brief  accounts  of  the  state  of 
things  in  New  York.  All  quiet,  but  groups  collected,  and  crowd 
around  the  theater.  He  brought  papers,  etc.  Benjamin  Curtis  called. 
Person  from  "  Signal "  newspaper  called.  G.  Curtis  saw  and  dis- 
patched him.  Telegraphed  Gould  to  settle  with  Hackett,  etc.  Wrote 
to  Golden.  Sent  in  a  parcel  his  great  coat.  Felton  called.  Prescott, 
Dr.  Channing,  Winthrop,  Eliot,  Mrs.  Story.  Wrote  to  Robert  Em- 
mett,  to  Gould,  to  Ruggles,  to  Mrs.  Kent.  Felton  dined  with  us. 
George  Curtis  drove  me  out  beyond  Brookline,  a  very  pleasing 
country.  Michell  brought  me  "  The  New  York."  Longfellow  called, 
T.  Gary  called,  B.  Curtis ;  he  and  George  both  appeared  pleased  with 


1849.  SYMPATHY  AND  SUPPORT.  599 

Mr.  Reed's  letter,  and  agreed  in  the  idea  that  it  ought  to  be  published. 
A  heavy  gloom  upon  my  spirits,  my  imagination  only  offering  scenes 
of  horror  and  blood,  my  thought  how  to  meet  extremities,  if  obliged 
to  face  them.  Resolving  to  do  so  at  least  with  composure  and  unpre- 
tending dignity. 

13^.  —  Rose  very  early,  my  spirits  in  the  lowest  state.  Occupied 
with  affairs  for  a  long  while.  Read  a  Boston  paper  sent  to  me  by  the 
editor,  which  added  to  my  dejection.  Continued  my  attention  to  the 
re-arrangement  of  my  packages.  Grew  more  and  more  disquieted. 
"  The  thoughts  of  home  rush  on  his  heart  and  call  its  vigor  forth  in 
many  a  vain  attempt."  Lifted  up  my  head  to  God  in  silent  prayer 
for  strength  to  sustain  me.  Busied  myself  with  arranging  papers. 
Received  a  short  letter  from  Gould.  Consulted  with  George  Curtis 
on  what  should  be  done,  and  told  him  of  my  feeling  of  insecurity.  He 
endeavored  to  reassure  me,  and  would  see  the  Mayor  and  others  to- 
day and  have  a  consultation  on  any  steps  deemed  necessary  to  be 
taken.  Began  a  letter  to  my  beloved  wife,  which,  in  my  uncertain 
state  of  mind,  as  to  whether  I  should  ever  see  her  again,  I  could  not 
continue.  Copied  out  examination  of  Mr.  Clusky  —  copying  was  the 
only  employment  for  which  I  was  fit.  Letter  from  dear  Mrs.  Golden, 
inclosing  those  of  my  darling  children.  Kind  letter  of  sympathy  from 
an  English  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Eastwood.  Violent  and  vulgar 
threatening  letter  —  anonymous.  Clapp,  the  chief  police  officer,  called 
to  assure  me  that  everything  was  quiet  in  the  city,  and  no  apprehen- 
sion whatever  to  be  entertained  of  any  demonstration  of  hostility  here  ; 
that  the  police  were  on  the  alert,  and  no  arrival  could  take  place  that 
they  would  not  know  and  take  any  needful  measures  upon.  Captain 
Wormley  called.  Mr.  Bigelow,  the  Mayor,  called  to  assure  me  in  the 
strongest  terms  that  the  dues  of  justice  and  of  hospitality  would  be 
maintained,  and  that  I  might  rest  perfectly  secure  in  the  power  and 
will  of  the  authorities  of  the  city  to  defend  me  from  outrage.  Mr. 
Stevenson,  Mr.,  Mrs.,  and  Miss  Ticknor,  Benjamin  Curtis,  counseling 
the  publication  of  a  statement  from  me  to  show  my  freedom  from 
blame,  etc.  Thought  over  the  advice  —  tried  it — found  that  it  ought 
not  to  bear  my  name  as  the  publisher,  but  that  my  assertions  and 
statement  should  be  given  to  the  public  by  certain  friends  who  had 
faith  in  them. 

I4:th.  —  Arose,  thanks  be  to  Almighty  God,  in  a  more  composed 
and  cheerful  state  of  mind ;  the  dejection  of  yesterday  caused  by  the 
subsidence  of  excitement  of  the  three  previous  days.  Saw  some 
papers,  which  confirmed  my  mood  of  mind  and  left  me  quite,  or  al- 
most, at  perfect  ease.  Benjamin  Curtis  called  with  his  alterations  of 
the  statement ;  they  were  few,  but  were  amendments.  Gary  called, 
and  Curtis  proposed  to  him  to  be  a  signer  of  the  statement,  to  which 
he  readily  assented.  Paid  for  insertion  of  replies  in  "  Atlas."  Paid 
Michell.  Lyman  called  and  told  me  he  had  called  at  New  York  on 
Friday ;  had  also  seen  Judge  Kent,  who  had  been  uneasy,  and  anx- 
ious about  the  mob,  having  heard  that  his  house  was  marked  by  them 


COO  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1849. 

—  the  villains !  lie  had,  as  his  letter  informed  me,  removed  his 
mother  and  Mrs.  K.,  and  sat  up  all  night,  waiting  for  the  destruction 
of  his  rich  law  library.  Entered  some  arrears  of  record.  Letter 
from  Gould,  answered.  Letter  from  citizens  of  Boston,  inviting  me 
to  read,  etc.,  in  most  complimentary  phrase  —  stopped  in  its  circula- 
tion by  these  events  —  was  given  to  me  by  kind  and  dear  George 
Curtis.  Fairbanks,  my  defender  in  the  "  Chromotype  "  last  autumn, 
C.  Norton,  Everett,  who  seems  quite  gay  and  glad  to  see  me,  Judge 
Warren,  Dr.  Haywood,  Prescott,  Gray,  Rantoul,  called.  Letter  from 
Sumner,  most  affectionate.  Looked  at  papers,  all  satisfactory,  the 
"  Boston  Mail,"  qualis  ab  incepto,  and  answered  Sumner.  Wrote  to 
John  Gordon,  of  Edinburgh,  apologizing  for  publishing  his  name  in 
his  letters.  Drove  out  with  George  Curtis.  Went  to  look  at  the 
reservoir  of  the  city's  supply.  Called  on  Colonel  Perkins,  and 
walked  through  his  peacheries,  graperies,  greenhouses,  etc.  Kind 
old  man,  whom  I  shall  never  see  again  !  Benjamin  Curtis  came  and 
sat  in  the  evening. 

IGlh.  —  Looked  at  papers,  from  which  the  excitement  seems  abat- 
ing, if  not  lulled  entirely.  The  result  will  be  most  beneficial  to  the 
community.  The  rabble  have  been  taught  that  they  are  not  the  dic- 
tators of  the  city  of  New  York. 

Walked  out  with  G.  Curtis  to  a  bowling  alley  where  we  found 
Charles  Curtis.  Mr.  Quincy,  junior,  came  in  and  we  had  some  con- 
versation. Hearing  of  an  assemblage  of  some  thousands  of  children 
happily  amusing  themselves  on  the  Common  —  that  very  beautiful 
green  —  we  went  to  see  them,  an  interesting  sight ;  its  fountains  in 
full  play,  and  a  pleasant  sun  giving  into  bright  and  cheerful  view  the 
handsome  buildings  that  inclose  it,  and  the  view  of  bay  and  landscape 
stretching  far  into  the  distance.  We  walked  along  the  causeway  over 
the  lagoon,  as  I  may  call  it,  for  I  do  not  know  the  real  term,  and  I  en- 
joyed much  the  air  and  exercise.  . 

17th. —  Went  to  dine  with  Ticknor.  I  took  a  Pope  with  me  and 
gave  it  to  Eliza  Ticknor.  We  met  Prescott,  Hillard,  Felton,  Judge 
Warren.  Charles  Curtis  came  in  the  evening  ;  it  was  a  very  cheerful 
agreeable  evening. 

20th.  —  Looked  over  Milton,  and  marked  it  for  reading.  At  Cur- 
tis's  evening  party  were  Winthrop,  W.  Prescott  and  his  daughter,  Dr., 
Mrs.  and  Miss  Haywood,  Mrs.  Story,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  —  Story,  Mr.  and 
Miss  Everett,  Longfellow,  Felton,  Dana,  Hillard,  Mr.,  Mrs.,  and  Mist 
Gary,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  B.  Curtis  and  children,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  C.  Curtis, 
Mr.,  Mrs.,  and  Misses  Ticknor,  D.  Golden,  Judge  and  Mrs.  Warren, 
Gray,  Greenhow,  Mrs.  Wadsworth,  etc.  I  read  part  of  first  and 
fifth  book  of  "  Paradise  Lost,"  the  "  Ode  on  St.  Cecilia,"  and  "  Abou 
Ben  Adhem  "  by  request.  Colden  sat  and  took  a  cigar  when  all 
had  gone.  The  guests  appeared  delighted.  All  went  off  admirably. 

22rf.  —  Glanced  at  paper,  which  said  in  a  paragraph  J  had  sent 
$1,000  to  the  Mayor  for  the  relatives  of  the  sufferers  in  the  late  riots. 
Yes ;  in  a  check  upon  the  city  of  New  York,  to  be  paid  out  of  the 


1849.  DEPARTURE  FOR  ENGLAND.  601 

damages  obtained  in  an  action  at  law  for  recovery,  etc. !  No  ;  if  that 
would  be  charity  it  would  be  best  to  give  away  all  the  little  I  possess 
in  the  world. 

Letter  from  Gould,  from  Stokes.  Felton  called  to  shake  hands, 
Charles  Curtis  also.  Arranged  affairs  of  money,  etc.  Attended  to 
business.  Charles  Sumner  called.  Still  business,  business.  Went  out 
in  carriage,  and  made  many  calls  ;  among  those  I  saw  were  Mrs.  Gary 
and  Sally,  to  whom  I  gave  a  copy  of  Pope.  D.  Channing,  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Haywood,  Mrs.  and  Eliza  Ticknor  (pictures  of  children),  Apple- 
ton.  Went  home,  found  George  Curtis  ;  he  accompanied  me  to  the 
Mayor,  who  was  very  kind  ;  told  me  the  inhabitants  would  have  pub- 
licly testified  their  respect  for  me,  but  were  afraid  of  some  individuals 
possibly  seeking  to  insult  me  ;  that  G.  Curtis  had  gained  greatly  in 
the  esteem  of  his  fellow-citizens  by  his  reception  of  me,  etc.  Called 
on  others,  and  ,pn  Mrs.  Story,  whom  we  saw.  Paid  Michell,  and  ad- 
vanced him  $60.  Wrote  to  Ransom's  with  second  bill  for  £40.  Be- 
gan letter  to  Mr.  Golden.  Dined  with  Prescott ;  met  Hillard,  Ticknor, 
Winthrop  ;  a  very  agreeable  day.  Took  leave  of  all,  Prescott  drink- 
ing a  stirrup-cup  and  clinking  glasses.  Walked  home  and  parted 
severally. 

23d.  —  Rose  early  to  finish  my  packing.  Invoked  the  blessing  of 
God  on  my  destiny — -what  rests  of  it  in  this  world,  what  awaits  in 
that  to  come.  May  He  protect  me. 

Letter  from  Sumner.  Wrote  autographs  for  Whitmore.  Wrote  to 
Mrs.  Gould,  etc.  Busy  to  the  last  moment.  Took  leave  of  the  two 
little  children,  and  of  Mrs.  Curtis,  who  uttered  some  few  words  of 
good  wishes  that  brought  the  tears  into  my  eyes.  Paid  the  servants 
and,  with  G.  Curtis,  went  in  carriage  across  the  ferry  to  East  Boston, 
where  we  got  on  board  the  Hibernia :  I  never  felt  such  relief  as  in 
planting  my  foot  upon  that  vessel's  deck ;  several  of  the  officers,  stew- 
ards, etc.,  I  knew.  Captain  Stone  had  brought  me  over  in  the  Ar- 
cadia. Met  Charles  Sumner  and  Hillard  on  board.  Went  down  to 
make  regulations  about  my  state-room.  Hillard  gave  me  a  beautiful 
bouquet  with  a  very  affectionate  card  from  the  two  Misses  Ticknor, 
and  a  letter  from  himself,  to  be  read  when  at  sea.  We  talked  long. 
G.  Curtis,  Hillard,  and  C.  Sumner,  in  and  by  my  state-room. 

The  day  was  clear  and  bright,  and  when  my  friends  were  gone  and 
I  stood  on  the  upper  deck,  1  looked  round  on  the  scene ;  the  water 
glittering  in  the  sunshine,  the  houses  lining  every  edge  of  the  shore  as 
the  eye  wandered  round  the  gay  panorama ;  the  vessels  plying  with 
steam,  sail,  or  oar  busily  along  the  surface  below,  and  the  keen  fresh 
air  blowing  against  me,  added  to  my  spirits,  which  were  strongly,  not 
cheerily,  excited,  as  I  thought,  "It  is  the  last  time  —  'tis  the  last,"  I 
should  ever  look  on  the  scene  before  me.  We  wound  our  way  out  of 
the  harbor,  and  I  saw  the  monument  of  Bunker's  Hill  grow  dim  in  the 
distance. 

June  1th.  —  Arrived  in  London. 

London,  June  22d.  —  Proceeded  to  Palace.     Colonel  Phipps  came 


G02  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1849. 

to  the  room  to  which  I  was  shown,  apologizing,  that  the  Prince  was 
then  in  his  own.  Told  me  that  he  was  instructed  to  inform  me  that 
the  Queen  wished  to  have  theatrical  performances  at  Windsor  this 
Christmas  as  before,  and  wished  me  to  act  Brutus  and  Hotspur.  I 
stated  my  readiness  to  show  my  duty  to  Her  Majesty,  and  that  her 
wishes  were  commands  to  me;  that  I  was  in  the  habit  of  acting 
Brutus,  but  that  I  had  long  discontinued  the  performance  of  Hotspur, 
not  intending  to  resume  it ;  that  I  should  have  to  restudy  the  charac- 
ter —  unfitted  by  years  to  personate- it,  etc.,  intimating  that,  if  I  played 
two  nights,  it  musi  be  in  some  other  character.  All  most  courteously. 
I  urged  the  necessity  of  knowing  the  time  as  soon  as  possible,  on  ac- 
count of  my  engagements,  etc.  He  was  to  write  to  me,  and  we  parted 
with  the  best  understanding. 

Birmingham,  June  26lh. —  Acted  Macbeth,  yes,  well.  The  audi- 
ence, the  Birmingham  audience,  gave  me  a  reception*  such  as  I  have 
never  witnessed  out  of  London,  and  very,  very  rarely  even  there. 
They  stood  up  all  through  the  house,  waving  hats  and  handkerchiefs, 
till  I  was  anxious  to  proceed.  I  thought  to  myself,  *  Will  I  not  act 
for  you  ?  "  That  stillness  that  followed,  every  word  ringing  on  the 
ear,  was  really  awful ;  but  I  felt  it  was  my  last  night  of  Macbeth  in 
Birmingham,  and  I  resolved  to  do  my  best  —  I  did.  The  applause 
was  fervent,  the  attention  deep,  and  the  reception,  when  I  was  called 
on,  equal  to  the  first  appearance. 

21th. —  Richelieu. 

28^/i.  —  Acted  Hamlet  under,  very  distressing,  incapacitating  circum- 
stances :  a  dress  not  fitting  me  ;  my  hair,  I  do  not  know  how ;  a  sword 
every  minute  sticking  in  my  shoes  and  breaking  in  my  hand  when  try- 
ing to  use  it  —  altogether  miserable,  but  I  did  my  best  under  these  dis- 
advantages. Called. 

29^.  —  Wolsey.     Oakley. 

Leamington,  June  30th.  —  Richelieu. 

[July  3d  to  July  12th.  —  Engagement  at  Liverpool.] 

4th.  —  Lear.  5th.  —  Werner.  6th.  —  Wolsey.  9^.  —  Hamlet. 
10th.  —  Othello.  1 1th.  —  Richelieu. 

Leeds,  July  1 6th.  —  Othello.     17th.  —  Werner.     18^.—  Richelieu. 

York,  July  1 3th.  —  Richelieu.     20th.  —  Othello. 

Birmingham,  July  23d.  —  Richelieu. 

July  30.  —  To  Eastbourne. 

Eastbourne  to  Dorchester,  August  3d.  —  Packed  up  my  small  affairs 
for  journey.  Looked  at  newspaper,  and  waited  for  the  omnibus.  Went 
in  it  to  Brighton,  reading  by  the  way.  From  Brighton  to  Portsmouth, 
where  I  had  to  wait  above  an  hour  for  the  next  train.  Walked  about, 
and  got  a  lunch  or  dinner  at  a  chance  hotel.  Came  on  to  Southampton, 
thence  to  Dorchester,  reading  all  the  way  when  I  did  not  sleep,  nor 
was  attracted  by  the  scenery.  The  principal  object  of  my  regard  was 
the  New  Forest  and  Corfe  Castle,  seen  from  the  distance.  The  sub- 
ject of  my  reading  was  Dryden's  "  Dedication  to  Lord  Dorset,"  which 
I  finished,  and  his  translation  of  the  first  and  third  Satire  of  Juvenal. 


1849.  LOOKING  AT  SHERBORNE.  603 

My  spirits  became  rather  low,  as  I  thought  of  this  kind  of  Pontus  for 
iny  life's  decline.     I  hope  I  shall  have  no  Tristia  to  write. 

Dorchester  to  Sherborne,  August  4th.  —  Left  Dorchester  on  the  top 
of  the  coach,  noticed  the  Roman  camp  and  two  sites  of  the  rampart  of 
the  town  ;  was  very  much  pleased  with  my  ride,  particularly  with  the 
view  of  Cerne  Abbas  and  the  view  of  the  Vale  of  Blackmoor  from  the 
heights,  which  is  really  superb ;  disappointed  on  approaching  Sher- 
borne, but  pleased  again  as  we  came  near  and  entered  it.  Looked  at 
everything  with  extreme  interest.  Talked  during  the  journey  with 
my  next  fellow-traveler,  amused  with  his  change  of  politics  as  we 
talked,  got  some  local  information  from  him,  which  was  serviceable. 
Came  to  the  Antelope  Inn.  Walked  about  the  town,  looked  at  the 
houses,  the  abbey  church,  abbey,  etc.  Walked  over  Castleton,  went 
into  a  house  —  Sherborue  House  —  which  was  selling  off. 

Called  on  Rutter,  auctioneer ;  not  at  home.  Rutter  called  on  me, 
and  I  questioned  him  about  the  price  of  houses,  etc. ;  found  they  were 
about  the  lowest  rate  I  had  hoped. 

Sherborne,  August  5th.  —  Walked  in  Lord  Digby's  park,  crossed  it 
and  skirted  it  home;  very  much  pleased  with  all  I  saw.  The  stillness 
of  this  place,  the  sleepy  quiet,  reminds  me  of  Thomson's  "Castle  of 
Indolence,"  not  even  the  coming  and  going  of  the  sea  to  make  a  change 
—  all  still,  all  quiet,  but  I  think  very  beautiful.  I  was  delighted  with 
the  views  in  and  from  the  park.  Walked,  I  think,  about  eight  miles  ; 
measured  one  oak  about  twenty-four  feet  in  girth — eight  sticks. 
Rested  a  little.  Read  in  the  "  Annual  Register  "  the  account  of  Lord 
Ferrers  and  Stirm  —  two  madmen  —  and  of  Theodore,  King  of  Cor- 
sica. Gave  the  rest  of  the  day  to  dearest  Willie's  birthday  letter. 

Sherborne  to  Dorchester,  August  6th.  —  At  the  hour  of  my  appoint- 
ment with  Mr.  Rutter,  went  to  Sherborne  House ;  he  had  not  come, 
the  gates  were  shut ;  waited  a  little,  then  walked  down  town  to  see  the 
clocks,  found  it  was  twenty  minutes  past  nine,  and  hastened  back  ;  the 
gates  were  opened,  and  I  obtained  admittance,  waiting  very  patiently 
for  Mr.  Rutter.  He  came  after  some  time,  and  went  with  me  over 
house  and  garden.  It  is  old-fashioned  in  its  adaptation  to  the  needs  of 
a  family :  there  is  no  attempt  at  commodiousness  or  contrivance,  but  I 
think,  at  a  very  cheap  rate  it  might  suit  us  (provided  we  can  contract 
our  expenditure  to  my  proposed  annual  expenditure,  £700)  better  than 
most  other  people  of  moderate  means,  and  a  person  of  fortune  would 
be  a  fool  to  live  there.  There  is  a  great  deal  to  recommend  it  to  us. 
I  trust  I  am  deceiving  myself — I  think  not. 

He  told,  i.  e.,  Mr.  Rutter,  that  he  made  a  mistake  in  his  statement 
on  Saturday,  and  that  the  rent  of  house  and  garden  without  the  field 
was  £50.  Called  on  Mr.  Ffooks,  Lord  Digby's  steward,  and,  after 
waiting  some  time,  saw  him  and  talked  over  the  house  —  Sherborne 
House  —  its  rent,  etc.  I  gave  him  my  name,  which,  I  said,  he  perhaps 
had  heard,  as  it  was  in  some  sort  a  public  one.  He  asked  any  con- 
nection of  the  Macready  ?  I  informed  him  that,  if  he  chose  so  to 
designate  me,  I  was  the  Macready.  His  manner  became  more  inter- 
ested ;  I  explained  to  him  frankly  my  views  and  motives. 


604  .IfACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1849. 

Came  on  the  coach  to  Dorchester,  looking  with  interest  at  the  old 
buildings,  the  shops,  the  people,  who,  at  least  the  children  and  women, 
are  very  pretty,  and  all  seemingly  very  healthy,  at  the  country,  etc., 
thinking  it  is  to  be  my  final  home. 

Eastbourne,  August  Qth. —  Letters.  One  from  poor  Regnier,  merely 
informing  me  of  the  sad,  sad  event  of  his  only  child's  death,  a  daugh- 
ter, aged  fourteen  years.  Most  deeply  did  I  feel  for  them.  Wrote  to 
Regnier.  Read  "  Copperfield  ; "  not  quite  so  full  of  interest  as  the 
preceding  numbers,  but  very  good.  Called  on  Cobden  and  sat  with 
him.  In  the  evening  read  to  the  girls  from  Dryden. 

10th.  —  Went  with  the  Cobdens  and  our  children  to  see  the  cricket- 
match  ;  I  was  interested  in  the  old  game.  Walked  with  Cobdeu  and 
his  brother  by  Paradise  home  ;  talked  chiefly  on  politics. 

London,  August  llth. — Messrs.  Webster  and  Manby  came,  shook 
hands  with  them.  The  matter  of  nights,  terms,  characters,  etc.,  was 
talked  over  and  settled.  The  eight  plays  for  the  first  period  given  in 
—  Macbeth,  Hamlet,  King  Lear,  Othello,  Shylock,  Richelieu,  Werner, 
Virginias.  The  terms  £40  per  night,  three  nights  per  week,  £30 
every  extra  night ;  the  first  period  for  1st  of  October  (if  possible)  to 
the  8th  of  December,  if  Mr.  Knowles  would  not  alter  his  time,  for  the 
15th  of  October  to  8th  of  December,  and  the  second  period  from  the 
15th  April  to  June  30th  inclusive.  I  to  take  my  benefit  in  such  large 
theater  as  I  may  be  able  to  procure,  having  the  aid  of  such  of  the 
Haymarket  performers  as  I  may  need,  I  paying  the  nightly  salary  of 
same :  the  privilege  of  writing  an  order  for  two  each  night  of  my  per- 
formance. 

Eastbourne,  August  12th. —  Letter  and  bankers'  book  of  Siddons 
monument.  I  see  that  neither  Lord  Aberdeen,  Lord  Ellesmere,  Lord 
Northampton,  nor  Monckton  Milnes,  has  subscribed.  They  are  valu- 
able committee-men  to  advance  a  work  of  art ! 

13th.  — Wrote  to  Lord  Lansdowne  about  the  inscription  for  Sid- 
dons  monument.  Mrs.  Cobden  looked  in,  saying  they  were  going 
away ;  I  shall  not  be  here  when  they  return.  Wrote  to  dear  Letitia. 
Cobden  called  and  sat  for  a  short  time  ;  his  conversation  is  very  pleas- 
ing to  me,  such  simple  good  sense.  Went  out  with  Catherine  and 
Walter ;  called  at  the  library  and  subscribed ;  posted  my  letters ; 
walked  with  them  to  the  seat  across  the  cricket-field  and  by  Paradise 
Lane.  I  enjoyed  the  air ;  the  wind  was  very  high. 

l&th.  —  Wrote  the  agreement  letter  to  Webster,  made  copy  of  it  for 
self  and  copied  it  out  to  send  to  him ;  wrote  him  another  note  to  let 
him  understand  my  willingness  not  to  oppose  him  if  he  wished  me  to 
play  six  nights,  supposing  myself  able  to  do  so.  Gave  Walter  his 
lesson,  assisted  Willie.  Letter  from  J.  Delane  with  a  letter  from  a 
gentleman  about  the  edition  of  Pope,  which  kind  Delane  had  noticed 
in  Wednesday's  "  Times "  in  the  most  considerate  and  advantageous 
manner.  From  Procter,  a  most  delightful  humorous  letter ;  from 
Henry  Taylor,  a  most  wise  and  kind  one ;  from  Mr.  Sage,  wishing  for 
my  autograph  to  insert  in  a  Pope  he  had  purchased,  etc.  Wrote  let- 


1849.  THE  SIDDONS  STATUE.  G05 

ters.  Went  to  post  my  letters.  Walked  out  with  Catherine.  The 
children  recited  some  poetry. 

21st.  — After  breakfast  we  set  out  in  a  carriage  for  Pevensey,  where 
we  looked  on  the  Castle,  which  was  manifestly  a  Roman  fortress 
before  it  became  either  Saxon  or  Norman.  Saw  a  very  good  silver 
coin  of  Hadrian,  extremely  sharp  and  clear  —  the  likeness  excellent  — 
which  had  been  found  with  many  others  in  the  Castle.  We  went  on 
to  Hurstmonceaux,  where  Forster  and  Willie  went  up  to  the  church,  I 
remaining  for  my  own  convenience  at  the  Castle.  Interested  by  a 
very  old  beech-tree,  that  wreathed  its  old  fantastic  roots  about  in  a 
most  extraordinary  manner,  and  a  row  of  Spanish  chestnut-trees, 
coeval  to  all  appearance  with  the  Castle,  and  which  no  doubt  were 
green  and  blooming  when  poor  Dacre  fell  a  victim  to  the  brutality  of 
His  Most  Gracious  Majesty  King  Henry  VIII.  Forster  was  very 
agreeable.  Returned,  and  proceeded  to  Beachy  Head,  delighted  with 
the  views  presented  us  and  in  the  best  humor  to  be  pleased.  Chose 
our  ground  for  play,  and  amused  ourselves  with  trap,  bat,  and  ball,  till 
the  Chisholm,  Mrs.  Kitchener  and  party,  with  Catherine,  Nina,  the 
children,  and  Norton,  appeared.  The  Chisholm  joined  us,  and  our 
play  continued,  but  I  was  suffering  from  a  strain  or  wrench  of  the 
muscle  or  sinew  of  my  left  thigh,  and  obliged,  after  some  vain  at- 
tempts, to  give  in.  I  did  not  reflect  that  it  was  twenty-one  or  twenty 
years,  since  we  had  our  Nemean  games  at  Pinner  Wood,  when  I  was 
at  least  as  active  as  any  there  ;  alas !  for  Time,  and  our  discovery  of 
what  he  takes  !  Dined  very  jocundly  and  joyously  on  the  ground. 
Richard  Cobden  appeared,  dined,  and  disappeared  like  the  Goblin 
Page ;  we  shouting  vainly  after  him  when  his  flight  was  discovered. 
Came  home  with  my  aching  thigh. 

Worcester,  September  3d.  —  Richelieu. 

4th.  —  Othello. 

London,  September  6th.  —  Went  with  Katie  to  Westminster  Abbey. 
Saw  the  statue  of  Mrs.  Siddons.  The  Verger  told  me  the  Dean  wished 
it  lowered,  and  desired  to  see  me.  I  went  and  called  on  him  ;  he  was 
not  at  home.  Called  at  Coutts's  about  subscriptions.  Saw  and  talked 
with  the  clerk.  Called  on  Campbell ;  gave  him  my  opinion  that,  in 
lowering  the  statue,  he  gained  in  the  distance,  and  lost  in  the  near  view 
from  the  proximity  of  Telford's  statue.  Promised  to  write  and  ask 
Maclise  for  his  opinion.1 

1  This  is  the  last  entry  in  Macready's  diaries  relating  to  the  Siddons  monument, 
and  it  indicates  the  conclusion  of  the  matter  to  which  he  had  given  so  much 
thought,  time,  and  money  in  order  to  do  honor  to  the  memory  of  one  of  the  greatest 
of  his  predecessors  on  the  English  stage.  When  Dean  Stanley  was  preparing  his 
Memorials  of  Westminster  Abbey,  the  present  editor  was  requested  to  obtain 
from  Macready  some  account  of  the  history  of  the  erection  of  the  Siddons  statue, 
and  in  reply  to  his  inquiries  Macready  wrote  :  "  With  the  exception  of,  I  think, 
about  £50,  the  whole  expense  was  defrayed  by  myself  in  one  way  or  other.  The 
site,  after  much  deliberation,  was  decided  on,  as  the  best  to  be  obtained,  by  Chan- 
trey,  and  the  subject  came  under  the  cognizance  of  Deans  Turton,  Buckland,  and 
Wilberforce.  I  consulted  the  late  Lord  Lansdowne,  Rogers,  and  some  others, 
whom  I  cannot  immediately  recollect ;  but  the  opinion  was  unanimous  in  regard 


GOG  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1849. 

[Brighton,  September  Wth  to  September  15th.  —  A  four  nights'  en- 
gagement] 

[Plymouth,  September  11  th  to  September  20th.  —  Four  nights.] 

Nottingham,  September  24th.  —  Richelieu. 

Derby,  September  2i>th.  —  Richelieu. 

Doncaster,  September  2$th.  —  Richelieu. 

Leicester,  September  27th.  —  Richelieu. 

[Manchester,  September  29M  to  October  Qth.  —  Seven  nights.] 

Acted  Hamlet  as  well  as  I  could,  not  well,  so  dreadfully  put  out  by 
King,  Horatio,  Ghost,  Polonius,  etc.  Called  and  delivered  my  fare- 
well address. 

London,  October  8th.  —  Acted  Macbeth.  Mr.  Webster  staggered 
me  about  the  house  just  before  I  went  on,  implying  that  it  was  not 
full ;  there  was  however  no  appearance  of  room  anywhere.  The 
cheering  on  my  entrance  was  very  great  from  the  whole  house,  but  it 
did  not  seem  to  me  that  wild  abandonment  to  a  delighted  feeling  that 
the  audience  at  the  Princess's  showed  five  years  ago. 

I  never  acted  better,  in  many  parts  never  so  well,  so  feelingly  and  so 
true.  I  said  to  Mrs.  Warner  once,  "  I  never  played  that  scene  so  well, 
and  yet  they  do  not  seem  to  feel  it."  She  observed,  "  They  are  not 
educated  to  it;"  meaning,  they  have  been  accustomed  to  things  so 
different  they  cannot  quite  appreciate  it.  The  play  ended  most  en- 
thusiastically. Was  called  and  greatly  cheered. 

[The  engagement  at  the  Haymarket,  varied  by  some  performances 
in  the  country,  continued  to  the  middle  of  December.] 

Canterbury,  November  Wth.  —  Richelieu. 

12th.  —  Hamlet. 

13th.  —  Dined  with  Brookfield.  Met  Kinglake,  Hallam,  junior, 
Bentinck,  Spring  Rice,  Lushington,  Forster,  Mansfield.  A  very 
agreeable  day. 

London,  November  15lh.  —  "The  Times"  communicated  news  to 
me  this  morning  that  was  quite  a  shock  to  me.  Dear,  kind,  splendid 
Etty  is  no  more.  Another  gone,  another  and  another  !  What  is  our 
life's  dependence  ?  I  mourn  his  loss,  for  I  had  a  most  affectionate 
regard  for  him,  and  he  appreciated  the  little  that  I  have  done  with 
even  an  enthusiastic  spirit  of  admiration.  Requiescat. 

Read  "  Othello ;  "  passed  the  early  evening  with  the  children,  my 
dearest  companions.  Poor  dear  Etty.  God  bless  him. 

Birmingham,  November  17th.  —  Lord  Townley. 

23d.  —  Acted  Macbeth,  but  moderately  the  two  first  acts,  but  hear- 
ing that  Peel  was  in  the  theater,  I  played  my  very  best  in  the  three 
last.  I  am  not  sure  that  the  audience  fully  appreciated  me ;  it  is  the 
most  difficult  criticism  to  criticise  acting  well.  Called. 

27th.  — •  Dined  with  Forster,  having  called  and  taken  up  Brookfield ; 

to  the  inscription  that '  Sarah  Siddons  '  should  be  the  only  words  enpraved  on  the 
pedestal  or  plinth."  The  place  and  date  of  birth  and  death  were  added  by  Dean 
Stanley,  in  1865,  when  the  statue  of  John  Kemble  was  removed  from  another  part 
of  the  Abbey,  and  placed  near  that  of  his  sister.  —  ED. 


1849.  COUNTRY  FAREWELLS.  607 

met  Rintoul,  Kenyon,  Procter,  Kinglake,  Alfred  Tennyson,  Thackeray. 
Passed  a  cheerful  evening  ;  brought  dear  old  Kenyon  home. 

Leamington,  December  1st.  —  Hamlet. 

Southampton,  December  10th.  —  Macbeth. 

llt/i.  —  Richelieu. 

Shrewsbury,  December  13th.  —  Richelieu. 

14th.  —  Hamlet. 

Chester,  December  17th.  —  Richelieu. 

18th.  — •  Acted  Macbeth  under  slaughterous  obstruction.  Never 
was  worse  dealt  with.  The  Lady,  oh  !  —  Banquo  —  Lennox.  In  fact 

it  was  wholesale  murder.  B ,  who  was  complaining  to  me  of  being 

"  a  pauper  "  yesterday,  was  drunk  in  the  Witch  to-night.  The  cause  of 
his  being  rejected  at  theaters  is  too  easily  accounted  for.  Farewell  to 
Chester ;  it  has  always  used  me  well,  but  I  have  known  as  a  boy  six- 
teen years  of  age  some  bitter  trials  here ;  left  in  charge  of  a  theater, 
distressed  for  rent,  and  a  company  mutinous  for  long  arrears  of  sal- 
ary. 

London,  December  28th.  —  Henry  Taylor  called.  Talked  over  and 
read  me  the  scenes  in  his  play,  which  is  much  improved.  To  my  ex- 
treme astonishment  he  showed  me,  after  our  discussion  of  the  several 
passages,  the  first  page,  in  which  was  a  dedication  l  to  myself.  I  felt 
quite  overcome,  so  grateful,  so  proud,  I  could  hardly  keep  the  tears 
from  my  eyes.  Have  I  merited  such  honor  from  such  men  as  Bulwer 
Lytton,  Dickens,  Henry  Taylor  ? 

28th.  —  Went  by  the  Great  Western  Railway  to  Windsor.  The 
day'  bitterly  cold,  with  drifting  snow  and  sharp  frost.  Proceeded  to 
the  castle  ;  saw  Mr.  Roberts,  to  whom  I  carried  a  letter  from  Colonel 
Phipps.  He  showed  me  the  Rubens  Gallery,  the  theater  of  the  cas- 
tle, explaining  to  me  the  position  of  the  stage,  etc.,  the  dressing-rooms, 
and  all  that  was  needful.  He  then  took  me  round  the  state-rooms, 
displaying  the  furniture  to  me,  about  which  I  was  indifferent,  but  was 
charmed  with  the  pictures  of  the  old  masters  I  saw  there  ;  West  and 
Lawrence  made  me  turn  very  sick.  Colonel  Phipps  was  out  shooting 
with  the  Prince.  Saw  Marianne  Skerrett,  who  came  to  me  in  a  small 
basement  receiving  or  business  room.  I  talked  with  her  till  time  to 
go ;  she  threaded  the  passages  for  me  and  I  took  leave. 

JSxcter,  December  31st.  —  Macbeth. 

l  Sir  Henry  Taylor's  drama  A  Sicilian  Summer,  is  thus  dedicated  :  "  To  W.  C. 
Macready,  to  whose  excellent  judgment  in  matters  of  art  this  work  is  largely  in- 
debted, it  is  with  sincere  respect  and  regard  very  gratefully  inscribed."  —  ED. 


COS  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1850. 

1850. 
[Sentences  prefixed :] 

"  Hie  murns  nhencus  csto  : 
Nil  conscirc  sibi,  nulla  pullcscerc  culpA."  1 


Bene  monent  qui  vetant  quicquam  faccrc,  dc  quo  dubitas  aequum  sit  an  ini- 
quum.2 

[January  2d  to  January  4th.  —  Engagement  at  Exeter.] 

[January  5th  to  January  Wth.  —  Engagement  at  Bath  and  Bris- 
tol.] 

Bristol,  January  15th.  —  Acted  Virginius,  I  thought,  very  well. 
Was  quite  overcome  in  the  betrothal  of  Virginia :  for  my  own  dear 
girls  were  in  my  mind ;  was  not  this  to  "  gore  my  own  thoughts, 
make  cheap  what  is  most  dear  ?  "  The  house  was  the  worst  of  all  ; 
as  to  "  Virginius,"  it  invariably  now  occurs.  I  am  not  surprised  at 
the  attendance  being  less  than  to  Shakespeare's  plays,  but  it  seems 
strange  that  the  house  should  be  positively  bad  —  worse  than  to 
"  Werner,"  —  much.  Called. 

18th.  — Acted  King  Henry  IV.  very  well ;  and  Lord  Townley  bet- 
ter I  think  than  I  have  ever  before  done  it.  As  the  curtain  was  fall- 
ing stepped  forward ;  the  audience,  unprepared,  gave  most  fervent 
greeting.  On  silence  I  addressed  them,  quite  overcome  by  recollec- 
tions, the  present  cordiality,  and  -my  own  feelings  to  "  good  old  Bris- 
tol:" "Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  —  I  have  not  waited  to-night  for  the 
summons  with  which  you  have  usually  honored  me.  As  this  is  the 
last  time  I  shall  ever  appear  on  this  stage  before  you,  I  would  beg 
leave  to  offer  a  few  parting  words,  and  would  wish  them  to  be  beyond 
question  the  spontaneous  tribute  of  my  respect.  It  is  not  my  intention 
to  trespass  at  length  upon  your  patience.  The  little  that  I  have  to 
say  may  be  briefly  said.  Indeed,  attempt  at  display  or  effect  seems  to 
me  scarcely  in  accordance  with  the  occasion  —  to  me  in  truth  a  melan- 
choly one  —  and  certainly  would  very  imperfectly  interpret  the  feel- 
ings which  prompt  me  to  address  you.  For  a  long  course  of  years 
—  indeed,  from  the  period  of  my  early  youth  —  I  have  been  welcomed 
by  you  in  my  professional  capacity  with  demonstrations  of  favor  so 
fervent  and  so  constant,  that  they  have  in  some  measure  appeared  in 
this  nature  to  partake  almost  of  a  personal  interest.  Under  the  influ- 
ence of  such  an  impression  sentiments  of  deep  and  strong  regard  have 
taken  firm  root  in  my  mind,  and  it  is  therefore  little  else  than  a  nat- 
ural impulse  for  me  at  such  a  moment  to  wish  to  leave  with  you  the 
assurance  that,  as  I  have  never  been  insensible  to  your  kindness,  so  I 

1  Be  this  thy  wall  of  strength,  a  conscience  good, 
With  no  committed  crime  to  mnke  thee  blench. 

Hor.  Epist.  I.  i.  v.  60.  —  ED.  THANS. 

8  It  is  good  advice  to  prohibit  the  doing  of  any  tiling  of  which  there  can  be  a 
doubt  whether  it  is  right  or  wrong.  —  ED.  TRANS. 


1850.  ILLNESS  OF  NINA.  609 

never  shall  be  forgetful  of  it.  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  I  should  vainly 
task  myself  to  find  due  expression  for  those  emotions  which  I  shall 
ever  cherish  towards  you.  Let  me  therefore,  at  once  and  for  all,  ten- 
der to  you  my  warmest  thanks  joined  with  my  regretful  adieus,  as  in 
my  profession  of  an  actor  I  most  gratefully  and  respectfully  bid  you  a 
last  farewell."  I  was  quite  overcome,  and  unable  to  check  the  tears 
that  rolled  down  my  cheeks.  The  audience  seemed  much  impressed, 
and  most  enthusiastic  were  they  as  I  retired  from  before  them  — 
never  to  meet  them  again  in  the  same  relation.  Hare  came  round, 
most  cordially  engaging  me  to  be  his  guest  at  the  next  madrigal  meet- 
ing ;  Grainger  came  after  him,  equally  cordial,  and  seemingly  much 
touched.  Gave  the  servants  liberal  douceurs.  And  so  farewell  to  my 
dear  old  Bristol  audiences  —  most  warmly  and  affectionately  do  I  re- 
member them. 

[21s£  to  31st.  —  Engagements  at  Bradford,  Leeds,  Liverpool.] 

25th.  —  Farewell  at  Leeds. 

London,  February  1st.  —  Found  my  beloved  Nina,  beyond  all  eva- 
sion of  even  hope,  ill ;  seriously,  alarmingly  ill.  My  blessed  first- 
born, my  own  beloved  Nina.  She  looked  at  first  better,  but  when  af- 
terwards I  looked  at  her  —  0  God,  how  painful  was  the  sight !  My 
beloved  one  ! 

Dressed ;  went  to  "Windsor  by  railway,  taking  at  the  Paddington 
Station  a  special  engine  to  return  at  night,  for  which  I  paid  seven 
guineas.  Dined  at  Castle  Inn.  Went  in  cab  to  the  Castle  ;  passed 
with  my  ticket  into  my  room,  a  very  handsome  one/ partitioned  off 
from  a  passage ;  pictures  of  Moretto,  Tintoretto,  Parmegiano,  exquis- 
ite, etc.  Dressed  ;  was  kept  in  a  state  of  irritable  expectation.  Mr. 
Wallack  came  to  speak  to  me.  Acted  Brutus  in  a  style  of  reality  and 
earnest  naturalness  that  I  think  did,  and  I  felt  ought  to,  produce  an 
effect  on  my  auditors.  I  cannot  describe  the  scene  ;  my  Nina  agitates 
my  heart  and  shakes  my  nerves ;  I  cannot  write.  Colonel  Phipps 
came  to  me  from  the  Queen  and  Prince  Albert  to  express  how  much 
they  had  been  pleased.  I  requested  him  to  offer  my  duty,  and  that  I 
was  most  happy  in  the  opportunity  of  offering  any  testimony  of  my 
respectful  homage.  Came  away  by  special  train.  Carriage  was  wait- 
ing for  me.  Reached  home  about  half-past  twelve  o'clock. 

3d.  —  Dr.  Bright  and  Elliotson  came.  After  seeing  my  beloved 
child  they  came  to  me  in  my  study,  where  I  was  waiting  for  them. 
They  spoke  to  me,  and  from  their  language  I  collected  that  the  case 
was  desperate.  I  felt  that  hope  was  gone.  My  blessed,  my  beloved 
first-born ! 

Liverpool,  February  4th.  —  Brutus. 

Dublin,  February  6th.  —  With  deep  and  devout  thanks  to  Almighty 
God  for  my  deliverance  from  the  dangers  of  the  night,  I  came  on 
shore.  Went  to  the  station  and  took  my  seat  in  the  railway  carriage 
at  Kingstown.  Heard  that  nothing  like  the  gale  of  the  night  had 
been  known  there  since  January  6th,  1839.  I  could  walk  with  diffi- 
culty for  the  wind  up  to  the  station.  Came  to  Dublin  to  Morrison's 
39 


610  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1850. 

Hotel.  "We  had  been  fifteen  hours  instead  of  four  on  our  passage.  I 
had  more  than  once  expected  death.  The  captain  was  certainly  much 
alarmed ;  indeed,  so,  I  believe,  were  all  at  heart. 

1th.  —  Macbeth. 

8th.  —  Letters ;  full  of  comfort  in  their  love  and  sweet  spirit  from 
my  beloved  wife  and  from  dear  Letitia.  Both  of  them,  dear  creatures, 
wish  to  hope,  and,  as  I  think,  unconsciously  persuade  themselves  to  do 
so.  Changes,  like  miracles,  have  occurred.  My  hope,  alas,  does  not 
extend  beyond  that  remote  possibility  !  I  must  prepare  to  lose  sight 
of  my  beloved  child  in  this  world.  At  my  time  of  life  the  distance  of 
separation  cannot  be  very  long,  but  I  cannot  help  murmuring  over  her 
departure  from  an  existence  which  was  so  full  of  enjoyment  to  her. 
Blessed  child.  But  God's  will  is  first  and  last. 

Sth.  —  Richelieu. 

\_February  llth  to  February  15th.  —  Engagement  at  Belfast.] 

Liverpool,  February  18th. — Macbeth. 

19^.  —  Something  past  one  o'clock  —  my  servant  gone  to  seek  a 
special  engine  to  convey  me  to  Hastings  to  catch  one  last  living  look 
of  my  dear  blessed  Nina.  I  know  not  what  is  my  state  of  mind ;  I 
am  certain  my  head  is  strange  and  heavy,  but  I  have  packed  up  my 
clothes,  made  my  arrangements  as  were  needed  —  clearly  ;  and  I  sit 
here  waiting,  with  anxiety  to  depart,  the  carriage  that  is  to  take  me 
away.  I  cannot,  to  myself,  disentangle  this  state  of  mind.  This  day 
brought  me  accounts  teeming  with  promises  of  comfort  and  joy.  I 
arranged  in  my  bed  this  morning  the  difficult  task  of  what  I  should 
say  to  my  audience  this  evening.  I  rose  to  receive  a  handful  of  let- 
ters, all  full  of  good  news  —  Catherine's  and  Letitia's  —  with  an  ac- 
count of  my  Nina  more  promising  than  any  I  have  yet  received  !  A 
sweet  consolatory  one  from  Forster;  from  Ransom's,  with  the  pur- 
chase of  railway  stock ;  from  James  G.  King,  with  further  investment 
in  stock  ;  from  Morley,  giving  me  my  terms  for  to-morrow  night  from 
Mr.  Bennett.  I  rehearsed,  receiving  at  theater  letters  wishing  me  to 
remain  here,  etc.  Wrote  to  Catherine,  to  Letitia,  and  to  my  Nina ;  a 
line  to  each.  Letter,  etc.,  from  a  Mr.  McNicoll.  A  Mr.  Mountfield, 
a  gentlemanly  young  man,  had  called  on  me  in  the  morning  about 
tuition.  Arranged  some  accounts,  and  labored  hard  at  the  few  sen- 
tences I  wished  to  deliver  in  addressing  the  audience.  Acted,  with 
great  care  and  peculiar  effect,  Cardinal  Wolsey  and  Lord  Townley. 
Called.  Went  forward,  the  whole  house  stood  up  to  hear  me,  and 
such  a  house  as  is  rarely  to  be  seen.  Everything  to  gratify  the  pride 
and  vanity  of  a  person  in  my  position,  and  the  telegraphic  dispatch 
was  waiting  me  at  my  hotel. 

Here  is  indeed  a  lesson  of  what  life  is  :  who  can  say  he  is  happy  or 
prospei'ous  in  this  world? -who  dares  to  boast  or  feel  confidence  in 
what  he  enjoys  ?  I  have  thought  my  Nina  the  strongest  and  health- 
iesL.of  all  my  dear  ones,  and,  as  I  write  —  perhaps  —  I  feel  dull  and 
half-stupid  —  I  do  not  know  what  to  do.  To  God  Almighty  I  may 
pray,  but  if  my  blessed  child  have  left  this  earth,  it  has  been  to  go  to 
Him. 


1850.  FAREWELL  AT  LIVERPOOL.  611 

After  I  left  the  stage  and  the  audience,  greatly  excited,  Mr.  Browne 
and  Mr.  Copeland  came  to  shake  hands  with  me,  the  latter  much  im- 
pressed and  gratified ;  spoke  to  Mrs.  Warner ;  came  to  Hotel,  saw 
several  letters,  one  telegraphic  dispatch,  which  I  opened  instantly, 
from  Dr.  Mackness,  requiring  me  to  set  off  instantly  for  Hastings,  etc. 
Sent  for  Michell,  and  sent  him  to  Lime  Street,  then  to  Edgehill,  then 
to  Everton,  to  find  the  superintendent  and  get  a  special  engine.  I  am 
waiting  for  it  now.  Packed  up  my  trunks,  etc.,  and  made  all  my  ar- 
rangements ;  wrote  to  Pritchard,  to  Morley.  Here  I  wait.  Wrote  to 
Davis,  to  my  Catherine.  The  engine  could  not  be  procured ;  I  ad- 
vanced money  to  Michell,  and  left  with  him  directions. 

The  words  which  I  said  to  the  Liverpool  audience  in  taking  leave, 
were  as  follows : 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  —  It  has  been  usual  for  me  to  attend  with 
pleasure  and  alacrity  the  complimentary  summons  with  which  you 
have  so  often  honored  me ;  but  now,  I  must  confess,  I  obey  your  call 
with  reluctance  and  regret. 

"  I  must  count  back  many  years  for  the  date  of  my  first  appearance 
before  you  ;  but  time  has  not  weakened  my  recollection  of  the  event ; 
and  I  treasure  in  my  memory,  with  grateful  pride,  the  cheering  wel- 
come with  which  you  greeted  my  more  youthful  essays :  and  equally 
well  do  I  remember  the  many  subsequent  occasions,  when  my  humble 
efforts  have  been  favored  with  your  liberal  appreciation,  and  in  which 
my  endeavors  to  realize  the  conceptions  of  our  great  dramatic  poets 
have  ever  found  a  ready  response  in  the  intelligence  and  sympathy  of 
my  audiences.  What  more  have  I  to  say  ?  The  exercise  of  my  art  I 
relinquish  at  a  somewhat  earlier  period  of  life  than  my  more  distin- 
guished predecessors  have  done,  and  I  yield  the  scene  to  younger,  but 
scarcely  less  ardent,  aspirants  to  your  favor,  not  from  any  immediate 
apprehension  of  enfeebled  powers,  but  because  I  would  not  willingly 
risk  the  chance  of  lingering  there  to  read  in  '  the  eyes  of  man '  bent 
idly  on  me,  the  melancholy  fact  of  my  decline.  Even  at  a  considerable 
pecuniary  sacrifice,  I  would  prefer  submitting  to  you  a  proof  print  of 
my  illustration,  such  as  it  is,  of  Shakespeare's  characters,  than  offer 
you  the  faded  and  indistinct  impression  of  a  worn-out  plate. 

"  It  has  always  been  a  gratification  to  me  to  appear  before  you,  it  is 
therefore  painful  to  me  to  reflect  on  a  pleasure  I  shall  never  again  en- 
joy. Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  I  take  my  leave  of  you  with  my  warmest 
acknowledgments  of  your  long-continued  and  liberal  patronage,  with 
sentiments  of  grateful  respect,  bidding  you,  in  my  profession  of  an 
actor,  regretfully  and  most  respectfully,  a  last  farewell." 

Liverpool  to  London.  Hastings,  February  20th.  —  At  six  o'clock 
left  the  railway  station  for  London,  and  came  on  to  Hastings.  Thought, 
as  I  passed  Eastbourne,  of  the  days  I  had  passed  there  with  my  blithe 
and  healthful  child  —  alas,  alas  !  Arrived  at  Hastings,  came  to  these 
lodgings,  saw  dearest  Letitia.  My  blessed  Nina  wished  to  see  me  at 
once ;  I  sat  by  her,  and  talked  cheerfully  with  her,  caressed  her  dog, 
and  tried  to  see  nothing  strange.  Let  me  hope  that,  if,  as  I  fear  and 


612  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1850. 

believe,  it  is  God's  will  she  must  pass  away  from  us,  it  may  be  in 
peace  of  mind  and  serenity  of  heart.  God  bless  my  beloved  child. 
Saw  Dr.  Mackness,  and  learned  from  him  that  there  was  no  ground 
for  hope. 

2lst. —  "Was  called  up  at  about  two  o'clock  by  dearest  Letitia  in 
manifest  fear  that  my  blessed  child  was  dying  :  threw  on  some  clothes 
and  went  down  to  her ;  found  her  in  an  alarming  state,  Letitia  and  Mrs. 
Wagstaffe  watching  her  in  evident  belief  that  the  dear  creature's  hour 
was  come  ;  stood  long  beside  her  in  the  same  agonizing  apprehension. 
What  thoughts  passed  through  my  brain  ;  what  a  horrid  mixture  of 
recurrences  of  grave  and  trifling  things,  that  passed  like  malicious 
antics  through  my  brain,  like  those  various  faces  that  seem  in  savage 
fiendishness  to  pass  before  the  eyes  at  night  and  will  not  be  shut  out ! 
The  sweet  scenes  of  her  birth ;  her  infancy,  her  girlhood,  and  spring 
of  youth  came  to  my  heart,  softening  and  soothing  it.  My  prayer  to 
God,  to  the  all-good,  all-bountiful  God,  is  for  peace,  peace  and  tran- 
quillity, in  this  world.  In  the  next,  I  cannot  doubt  her  acceptance 
and  her  home  with  the  spirits  of  the  pure  and  good.  But,  oh !  for 
remission  from  pain  to  her  dear  wasted  frame  here,  I  pray,  O  God ! 

24th.  — My  beloved  Christina,  my  first-born,  died. 

[London,  February  28th.  —  Funeral  at  Kensal  Green  Cemetery.] 

[March  4th  to  March  IQth.  —  Engagement  at  Newcastle,  with  one 
night  at  Hull.] 

Newcastle,  March  15th. — Acted  Cardinal  "Wolsey  and  Lord  Town- 
ley.  Called,  and  addressed  the  audience : 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  —  I  had  supposed  this  evening  would  be 
the  last  on  which  I  should  have  the  honor  of  appearing  professionally 
before  you ;  but  an  application  which  I  could  not  resist  has»been  made 
to  me  to  prolong  my  stay  one  more  night.  I  have  therefore  yet  once 
again  to  '  fret  my  hour  upon  your  stage,'  and  after  that  am  in  very 
truth  to  be  'heard  here  no  more.'  In  the  ordinary  relation  of  an 
actor  to  his  audience  such  an  anticipation  would  probably,  as  a  com- 
mon occurrence,  be  regarded  with  indifference  ;  but  there  may  be  con- 
siderations imparting  to  it  a  serious  and  ever  painful  interest.  Such,  I 
confess,  press  heavily  on  me ;  and  when  I  retrace  the  years  that  have 
made  me  old  in  acquaintance  and  familiar  here,  and  recount  to  myself 
the  many  unforgotten  evidences  of  kindly  feeling  towards  me,  which 
through  those  years  have  been  without  stint  or  check  so  lavishly 
afforded,  I  must  be  cold  and  insensible  indeed  if  time  could  so  have 
passed  without  leaving  deep  traces  of  its  events  upon  my  memory  and 
my  heart.  From  the  summer  of  1810,  when  scarcely  out  of  the  years 
of  boyhood,  I  was  venturing  here  the  early  and  ruder  essays  of  my 
art,  I  date  the  commencement  of  that  favorable  regard  which  has 
been  continued  to  me  through  all  my  many  engagements  without 
change  or  fluctuation  up  to  the  present  time.  You  will  not  wonder, 
then,  if  I  take  advantage  of  this  occasion  to  assure  you  —  and  it  is  with 
heartfelt  earnestness  I  do  so  —  that,  to  the  fostering  encouragement  of 
my  efforts  of  that  early  period,  I  was  indebted  for  a  confiding  depend- 


1850.  EDINBURGH.  613 

ence  in  my  resolution  and  endeavors  to  improve,  to  which  I  ascribe 
much  of  whatever  success  may  have  attended  my  subsequent  profes- 
sional career.  That  career  draws  rapidly  to  its  close,  and  another 
night  terminates  it  here.  All  that  remains  for  me  is  to  offer  you  my 
most  grateful  acknowledgments  for  the  favor  you  have  so  long  and  so 
liberally  extended  to  me,  which  has  been  appreciated  by  me  always  as 
an  honor  and  a  benefit,  and  in  the  time  to  come '  When  to  the  sessions 
of  sweet  silent  thought  I  summon  up  remembrance  of  things  past,'  I 
shall  recall  with  pleasure  the  days  of  my  life  spent  here,  where  accident 
gave  me  a  home  which  the  kindness  of  many  friends  made  happy,  and 
has  forever  endeared  to  my  memory.  The  enjoyment  of  these  reflec- 
tions will  still  be  mine,  and  with  them,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  I  shall 
ever,  ever  think  of  you  with  sentiments  of  sincere  respect,  and  such 
wishes  as  the  strongest  feelings  of  regard  and  gratitude  would  offer." 

March  1 6^.  —  Othello. 

Edinburgh,  March  18th.  —  Macbeth. 

19/h. —  Hamlet. 

20tk.  —  Richelieu. 

21st.  —  In  Mrs.  Rutherfurd's  note,  she  expresses  a  doubt  whether 
I  shall  not  regret  the  relinquishment  of  an  art  in  which  I  am  consid- 
ered to  excel,  and  in  the  exercise  of  which  I  am  perhaps  displaying 
greater  power  than  ever.  My  fear  of  exhibiting  vanity  restrains  me 
from  speaking  more  positively,  but  I  think  not.  I  certainly  never 
feel  pleasure  in  going  to  act ;  would  always  rather  be  excused  from 
it.  How  this  may  be  when  the  abstinence  is  made  compulsory,  I 
will  not  be  so  arrogant  as  positively  to  say.  But  I  think,  I  hope, 
I  pray,  that  my  time  devoted  to  the  elevation  of  my  own  nature, 
and  to  the  advancement  of  my  children's  minds  will  be  agreeably  and 
satisfactorily  passed,  leading  me  onwards  towards  the  end  appointed 
for  me  by  the  Blessed  and  Merciful  Dispenser  of  all.  Amen.  Acted 
Othello. 

22d.  —  Werner. 

23d.  —  Read  "  The  Times."  I  do  not  know  what  to  think  of  the 
proposed  Exhibition  of  1851.  It  seems  to  me  too  vast  to  be  an 
amusement  for  sight-seers,  and  too  extensive  and  too  various  to  per- 
mit of  its  being  a  study.  Then,  it  must  make  many  idle  persons : 
to  be  seen  it  must  be  open  some  months.  I  am  not  disposed  to  cavil, 
but  "I  fear  it  will  derange  the  course  of  business  very  much  in  this 
country.  There  may  be,  however,  beneficial  results,  which  even  the  pro- 
jectors do  not  themselves  foresee.  Let  us  hope  it.  Acted  Richelieu. 

24th.  —  My  youngest  son  born.1 

25th.  —  Lear. 

26th.  —  Shylock. 

21th.  —  lago. 

28th.  —  Richelieu. 

2Wi.  —  Somewhat  irresolute  at  first,  I  opened  the  box  to  which  I 
had  been  directed  by  my  blessed  child,  and  found  a  letter  addressed  to 

1  Jonathan  Forster,  now  (1874)  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital,  London.  —  ED. 


C14  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1850. 

her  dear  mother  and  myself,  which  was  her  will.  The  grief  of  my 
heart  has  all  been  broken  up  again  from  the  depths  under  which  it 
lay.  My  thoughts  are  constantly  with  her  —  thinking  on  what  she 
has  said  —  how  she  has  looked,  and  what  her  thoughts  and  feelings 
have  been.  But  God's  decree  is  past,  and  let  me  live  in  the  hope 
of  that  assurance  she  inscribes,  blessed  child,  upon  the  cover  of  her 
will  "  Ci  rivedremo"  She  was  to  have  had  the  choice  of  seeing  me 
act  before  I  relinquished  my  art,  which  was  for  years  an  earnest  wish 
of  her  heart ;  but  latterly  she  had  begun  to  doubt  whether  she  should 
like  to  "  disturb  her  idea  of  Pearse 1  himself,  by  associating  him  with 
any  assumed  character."  How  many  dim  dreams  of  future  occupa- 
tions and  pleasures  had  flitted  before  us  !  I  long  to  quit  London. 
She  is  so  mixed  up  with  all  my  thoughts  there,  that  the  want  of  her 
presence  is  an  actual  pain  to  me.  In  the  quiet  of  Sherborne,  I  fancy, 
I  can  more  think  of  her  in  her  translated  state,  and  with  even  pleas- 
ing emotions  arising  from  hope  and  meditations.  God  grant  it. 

[FareweU  at  Edinburgh,  March  30th.  —  Henry  IV.,  and  Lord  Town- 
ley.] 

Birmingham,  April  1st. —  Jago. 

2d.  —  Virginius. 

3d.  —  Brutus. 

4th.  —  Werner. 

5th.  —  Acted  King  Lear  to  such  a  house  as  never  before  was  seen 
in  Birmingham.  Acted  my  best,  but  the  house  though  very  atten- 
tive, was  too  full  to  enjoy  the  play  —  if  a  play  so  acted  were  to  be 
enjoyed.  Called  —  but  an  apology  was  made  till  I  could  change  my 
dress  —  I  went  forward  after  a  time  and  I  spoke  to  the  audience,  who 
rose  to  me,  as  follows  :  — 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  —  For  the  last  time  I  have  appeared  be- 
fore you  this  evening  in  a  theatrical  character.  An  event  like  this  in 
my  professional  life  I  could  not  pass  by  in  silence ;  for  it  was  here  that, 
in  the  very  dawn  of  youth,  I  first  ventured  on  an  essay  hi  that  art, 
which  the  liberal  reception  bestowed  on  me,  and  the  friendly  predic- 
tions attending  it,  encouraged  me  to  pursue.  It  was  here,  too,  that, 
preparing  to  relinquish  finally  the  exercise  of  that  art,  I  purposed, 
and  indeed  had  arranged,  to  deliver  my  last  words  upon  a  provincial 
stage.  But  what  man  proposes,  he  cannot  always  answer  for  accom- 
plishing, and  my  intention  in  this  instance  has  been  so  far  frustrated 
that  I  have  one  more  engagement  to  discharge  before  entering  on  the 
concluding  series  of  my  nights  ia  London.  Permit  me  to  recall  to 
you  a  probably  forgotten  circumstance,  that  I  made  choice  of  the  thea- 
ter here  as  the  scene  of  that  youthful  experiment  which  was  to  deter- 
mine my  life's  destiny,  because  I  anticipated  from  the  many  friends, 
whom  my  family's  long  residence  and  acquaintance  here  had  interested 
for  me,  a  most  indulgent  judgment.  I  need  not  repeat  to  you  that,  in 
BO  confident  an  expectation  and  trust,  I  was  not  disappointed.  My 
reason  for  desiring  to  close  my  provincial  performances  here,  where 

1  An  adopted  name  by  which  Macready's  children  called  him.  —  ED. 


1850.  FAREWELL  AT  BIRMINGHAM,  615 

they  began,  was  to  mark  by  such  token  of  respect,  trivial  as  it  is,  my 
sense  of  the  kindness  with  which  you  have  uniformly  greeted  me. 

"  Since  the  date  of  my  announcement  as  '  The  first  appearance  of 
a  young  gentleman  upon  any  stage,'  nearly  forty  years  have  elapsed, 
and  during  that  long  period  my  professional  visits  have  been  frequent 
enough  to  satiate,  indeed  to  exhaust,  curiosity,  but  still  the  '  troops  of 
friends '  that  so  partially  crowded  to  me  in  '  my  May  of  life,'  have 
not  thinned  their  numbers,  nor  ceased  to  accompany  me  when  '  fallen 
into  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf.'  Many  and  most  extraordinary  have 
been  the  external  changes  to  attract  my  notice  and  admiration  here  ; 
but  no  variation,  no  diminution,  no  alteration  has  occurred  in  the  con- 
stancy of  that  favor,  with  which  my  less  experienced  attempts  were 
so  indulgently  welcomed,  and  with  which  you  have  continued  to  honor 
my  more  matured  impersonations. 

"  Few,  alas  !  of  the  numerous  friends  who  joined  in  the  first  con- 
gratulatory cheers  of  encouragement  to  me  now  remain,  but  their 
genial  generous  spirit  seems  to  breathe  strongly  still,  and,  if  I  may  be 
allowed  the  phrase,  the  old  heart  appears  to  me  still  the  same,  un- 
chilled  and  unchanged  by  time. 

"  For  all  these  pleasing  memories  and  substantial  benefits  I  am  here 
to  render  you  my  parting  thanks.  By  ungrudging  labor  and  the  de- 
sire to  uphold  my  art  by  seeking  to  cultivate  in  it  the  purest  taste, 
and  by  persevering  in  my  study  of  character,  so  as  to  endeavor  to 
present  in  every  individual  representation  a  consistent  whole,  and  to 
make  each  successive  performance  an  improvement  on  the  last,  I  have 
striven  to  appear  not  altogether  unworthy  of  the  liberal  patronage 
with  which  throughout  my  public  life  you  have  so  especially  befriended 
me.  But  neither  through  such  acts  of  duty,  nor  by  any  words  I  may 
employ,  can  I  hope  to  convey  to  you  with  perfect  fidelity  how  deeply 
I  am  penetrated  by  the  recollection  of  your  unvarying  kindness. 

"  In  taking  leave  of  you,  it  almost  seems  as  if  I  were  parting  with 
friends,  whose  ready  help  and  encouragement  had  been  constantly  at 
hand  through  the  vicissitudes  of  my  life's  journey.  Let  me  then  as- 
sure you  that  my  attachment  to  my  boyhood's  place  of  residence  will 
never  cease,  and  that,  in  the  familiar  but  significant  word  of  parting,  I 
embody  every  earnest  and  heartfelt  wish  for  the  still  increasing  pros- 
perity of  this  great  community  as,  in  my  professional  capacity,  I  bid 
you,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  with  sentiments  of  the  deepest  gratitude 
and  respect,  a  last  farewell." 

[April  Sth  to  April  15th.  —  Engagement  at  Glasgow.] 

Sherborne,  May  22d.  —  Left  Dorchester  for  Sherborne ;  passed 
through  Cerne  Abbas,  where  all  was  in  movement  for  the  celebra- 
tion of  the  meeting  of  a  benefit  club,  same  also  at  a  small  village 
nearer  to  Sherborne.  My  spirits  were  rather  low,  thinking  of  the 
society  I  was  leaving,  the  varied,  brilliant,  and  powerful  minds  I  should 
perhaps  never  meet  again  after  parting  from  them  ;  the  narrow  limits 
within  which  I  must,  in  prudence,  endeavor  to  keep  my  expenditure  ; 
and  the  ordinary  character  presented  to  me  by  the  country  through 


616  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1850. 

which  I  passed.  Besides,  I  am  not  now  what  I  was  ;  when  I  sought 
and  longed  for  the  country  before,  "  J'tlaisjeune  et  super  be,''  or  rather 
I  was  young  and  enthusiastic  —  but  let  us  hope  and  trust.  Reached 
Sherborne. 

Called  on  Ffooks,  signed  my  lease.  God  grant  that  it  may  be  for 
the  good  and  happiness  of  my  beloved  wife  and  children,  and  that  our 
lives  may  be  fruitful  of  good  and  sweet  in  peace  here.  Called  on 
Down,  went  to  house,  went  over  and  about  it.  Made  memoranda. 
Ffooks  came  in,  I  agreed  to  stay  and  dine  with  him  according  to  the 
invitation  he  had  before  given  me. 

London,  June  Wth.  —  Went  to  Justice  Coleridge's  as  on  the  com- 
mittee for  Wordsworth's  memorial.  Met  Boxall,  Justice  Coleridge, 
his  son,  Spedding,  Bishop  of  St.  David's,  Archdeacon  Hare,  Rich- 
mond, Sir  B.  Brodie,  R.  Westmacott,  etc.  Hope,  the  Chair.  Dis- 
cussed the  question ;  I  was  named  for  the  executive  committee. 

19^7*. —  In  the  evening  Curtis  called,  and  still  later  we  were  sur- 
prised by  the  entrance  of  Carlyle  and  Mrs.  C.  I  was  delighted  to  see 
them.  Carlyle  inveighed  against  railroads,  Sunday  restrictions,  almost 
everything,  Ireland  —  he  was  quite  in  one  of  his  exceptious  moods.  I 
love,  however,  to  hear  his  voice.  Mrs.  C.  left  one  of  his  "  Latter- Day 
Pamphlets,"  with  a  corrected  sheet,  from  which  he  had  expunged  an 
eulogistic  mention  of  me,  thinking  "I  might  not  like  it."  He  little 
knows  what  value  I  set  upon  a  word  of  praise  from  him.  Mrs.  Carlyle 
wanted  Catherine's  aid  about  a  dress  for  a  great  ball  at  Lord  Ash- 
burton's,  to  which  Carlyle  wished  to  go. 

23d.  —  Wrote  out  a  prayer  for  the  day,  marked  in  our  little  family 
history  as  the  last  Sunday  we  shall  ever  spend  together  under  this 
roof,1  our  ten  years'  home,  endeared  to  our  recollections  by  many  joys, 
many  sorrows,  and  many  interesting  events. 

Read  prayers  to  the  family.  Went  to  church  with  Katie  and  the 
little  ones. 

2oth.  —  Dined  with  Kenyon.  Met  Prescott,  Sir  C.  Fellowes,  Bab- 
bage,  Panizzi,  Crabbe  Robinson,  Forster,  Thackeray ;  in  the  evening 
Dr.  Southey  and  Boxall. 

July  1st.  —  Left  home  and  came  by  railway  to  Dorchester  ;  on  the 
way  road  "  The  Times,"  and  was  most  deeply  concerned  and  grieved 
to  read  of  the  sad  accident  that  befel  Sir  Robert  Peel,  a  man  I  honor 
most  highly  and,  though  I  do  not  know  him,  hold  in  the  highest  regard 
and  respect. 

[July  2d  to  August  2d.  —  A  month  spent  at  Lyme  Regis,  with 
family,  and  occasional  visits  to  Sherborne  and  London.] 

London  to  Knebworth,  August  3d.  —  Went  to  station.  Waiting  in 
the  room  for  train,  read  extracts  from  Wordsworth's  "  Prelude,"  in 
"  Literary  Gazette,"  was  much  interested  in  and  pleased  with  them. 
Procter  arrived.  Met  Mrs.  Gurwood,  all  going  to  Knebworth,  went 
in  railway  carriage  alone  to  Hertford :  from  thence  with  Procters  in 
Bulwer's  carriage  to  Knebworth,  passing  through  a  very  rich  coun- 

1  5  Clarence  Terrace,  Regent's  Park,  London.  —  ED. 


1 850.  KNEB  WORTH—  SIIERB  ORNE.  617 

try,  by  several  parks — Panshanger  and  others.  Reached  Knebworth, 
a  very  beautiful  park,  not  quite  so  happily  undulating  as  Sherborne 
Park,  but  the  house  and  ground  immediately  around  it  a  most  finished 
specimen  of  a  baronial  seat.  The  order,  the  latest  Gothic ;  the  archi- 
tecture, internally,  in  perfect  harmony,  though  sometimes  of  different 
periods,  with  the  outer  ornaments  of  the  building.  Bulwer  Lytton 
gave  me  a  very  cordial  reception,  and  after  some  delay  with  our  lug- 
gage, brought  on  by  a  fly,  we  went  to  the  drawing-room,  or  rather  to 
the  upper  drawing-room,  from  thence  to  the  great  hall,  where  a  very 
elegant  dinner  was  served.  The  day  was  very  cheerful.  D'Eyncourt, 
junior,  and  Forster,  with  some  of  the  neighborhood,  were  added  to 
our  party.  We  were  late  in  going  to  bed,  Bulwer  taking  his  long 
cherry-stick  pipe  and  Forster  his  cigar. 

Knebworth,  August  4th.  —  Bulwer  sent  a  message  to  me,  as  I  was 
dressing  to  inquire  if  I  would  like  a  walk  with  him,  which  I  was  very 
happy  to  do.  We  went  through  the  park  and  along  the  road  that 
skirts,  discoursing  on  religion,  -the  immortality  of  the  soul,  youth, 
marriage,  and  much  interesting  matter.  When  we  came  back,  we 
changed  to  persons,  D'Orsay,  Lord  Hertford,  of  whom  he  related 
anecdotes,  showing  him  possessed  of  more  talent  than  I  had  supposed. 

Head  in  Greek  Testament  fifth  chapter  of  John.  Bulwer  came  to 
my  room,  and  took  me  over  the  house,  showing  me  the  rooms,  the 
pictures  in  them,  and  the  various  points  of  interest.  Walked  with 
me  again,  through  gardens  to  the  house  and  the  park  and  home. 
Dined  at  the  luncheon.  Looked  over  some  strange  books,  and  an 
account  of  the  Knebworth  Ghost.  Took  leave  of  Bulwer  Lytton, 
after  another  quarter  of  an  hour's  conversation  with  him.  I  like  him 
more  and  more.  I  wish  his  health  gave  him  more  enjoyment.  His 
place  is  beautiful. 

Went  in  the  carriage  to  Welwyn,  in  fly  to  Hertford;  thence  very 
slowly  and  uncomfortably  by  rail  to  London. 

5th.  —  Left  for  Waterloo  Station.  Railroad  to  Dorchester.  Posted 
to  Sherborne. 

6th.  —  Part  of  family  arrived  from  Lyme  at  Sherborne. 

[14<A  to  19th.  —  Engagement  at  Cork.] 

Sherborne,  September  4(h.  —  First  night  in  Sherborne  House. 

London,  September  10th. —  Went  to  Clarence  Terrace,  a  most  mel- 
ancholy sight,  and  one  to  me  most  painful :  scene  of  so  many  joys,  of 
such  deep  suffering.  How  could  I  look  upon  it  and  for  the  last  time 
without" deep  emotion  ?  Had  to  go  through  the  irksome  business  of 
inspecting  the  whole  interior,  listening  to  the  inquisitorial  remarks  of 
the  surveyor,  and  giving  Mr.  Taylor  his  directions  for  repairs.  I  was 
greatly  relieved  when  it  was  over. 

Dundee,  September  15th.  —  Wrote  to  dear  De  Fresne,  congratulat- 
ing him  on  his  prospective  marriage.  Read  the  satire  of  Horace,  dia- 
logue between  Ulysses  and  Tiresias.  Read  two  acts  of  "  Macbeth," 
for  reading,  too  weary  and  drowsy  to  continue.  De  Fresne  has  quoted 
from  La  Fontaine  the  following  verse  in  his  letter  to  me  : 


618  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1850. 

"  Mais  la  faveur  de  Dieu  vous  donne  la  recompense 
Du  repos,  du  loisir,  de  1'ombre  et  du  silence, 
Un  tranquille  sommeil  des  doux  entreticns  ; 
Et  jamais  a  la  cour  on  ne  trouve  ces  bicns." 

1 6th.  —  Acted  Richelieu. 

Perth,  September  11  th.  —  Walked  to  theater,  along  the  river  bank, 
on  the  Inch,  thinking  of  the  days  when,  thirty  years  since,  I  admired 
these  scenes  and  fell  in  love  with  my  dear  Catherine.  Rested. 
Drunken  property-man  came  to  ask  for  me  !  Went  to  theater ;  heard 
that  "  the  company  "  had  been  drinking,  but  luckily  only  noticed  it  as 
observable  in  one  person.  Acted  Cardinal  Richelieu  not  very  well, 
against  the  grain,  with  bad  actors,  and  to  a  house  not  crowded  as  one 
might  have  expected.  Letter  from  dearest  Catherine. 

Dundee,  September  18th.  —  Hamlet. 

Aberdeen,  September  19th.  —  Read  Macbeth. 

20th.  — Read  Hamlet. 

Greenock,  September  23d.  —  lago. 

24:th.  —  Virgin  ius. 

Paisley,  September  25th.  —  lago. 

Glasgow,  September  26th.  —  Richelieu. 

27th. — lago. 

30th.  —  Acted  Virginius.  Called  and  tried  to  say  the  few  words  I 
had  prepared.  I  could  not  —  so  improvised  something  which  led  me 
into  the  current  of  the  short  speech  intended.  It  is  most  extraordinary 
that  I  cannot  find  words  or  thoughts  at  the  moment  they  are  needed. 
The  audience  seemed  satisfied  with  what  I  said.  Glasgow  is  ended  — 
good  Glasgow. 

Paisley,  October  2d. — We  reached  Burns's  birthplace — the  cottage, 
bed,  etc.  There  had  God  given  breath  to  that  sensitive  frame  and 
lighted  up  that  divine  genius.  The  other  room  was  covered  over  with 
names,  seeking  immortality  with  pencil  and  penknife.  Afterwards  to 
Alloway  Kirk,  now  desecrated  and  divided  into  burying-places.  Acted 
Cardinal  Richelieu.  The  house  quite  disappointed  me  and  depressed 
me.  It  was  barely  good.  This  is  my  last  country  performance. 

London,  October  28th.  —  Acted  Macbeth.1  How  ?  I  was  disap- 
pointed by  the  sight  of  the  house,  which  was  not  full.  I  was  not  sat- 
isfied with  the  feeling  of  the  applause  ;  it  seemed  to  me  the  effort  of  a 
minority  ;  still,  I  resolved  to  do  my  very  best  and  I  "  went  in  to  win  " 
—  if  I  could.  I  thought  the  audience  cold ;  yet  on  I  strove,  unde- 
terred by  the  apathy  with  which  they  accompanied  my  still  sustained 
endeavors.  Mrs.  Warner  told  me,  she  thought  I  was  playing  in  my 
best  manner,  but  the  audience  did  not  satisfy  me  on  the  point  until  the 
banquet  scene,  when  they  burst  into  unanimous  and  long-continued 
applause.  The  play  ended  triumphantly,  but  it  was  at  the  cost  of  very 
great  labor  to  me.  Called  and  very  warmly  received. 

30th.  —  Acted  Hamlet,  I  think  for  the  most  part,  in  a  very  superior 

1  This  was  the  first  night  of  the  series  of  farewell  performances  at  the  Ila ymarkc t 
Theater.  —  ED. 


1850.  READING  AT  RUGBY.  619 

manner ;  the  house  was  not  like  those  I  have  lately  had  in  London, 
and  yet  there  appears  to  rne,  arguing  from  the  past,  every  reason  why 
there  should  be  great  houses,  but  perhaps  reason  has  little  to  do  with 
"  the  crowd's  "  movements.  I  never  was  acting  better  than  I  have 
done  these  two  last  nights,  and  in  two  or  three  more  repetitions  of 
these  characters  the  public  can  never  see  the  same  artist  in  them  again. 
It  seems  a  reason  for  attraction.  Called.  Forster  came  into  my  room. 
How  different  my  sensation  of  weariness  now  from  those  earlier  days 
when  I  felt  ready  to  go  through  the  whole  performance  again  ! 

31st.  —  Acted  Shylock,  I  scarcely  know  how,  being  unwell :  I  was 
not  quite  self-possessed,  but  I  made  the  best  effort  I  could.  Called. 

November  2d.  —  Acted  King  Lear  in  my  best  manner;  I  do  not 
know  that  I  ever  played  it  altogether  better.  I  was  careful  and  self- 
possessed  and  not  wanting  in  power ;  I  felt  the  mighty  character. 
The  audience  seemed  impressed  with  it.  Called.  Forster  came  round. 
Manby  and  Webster  came  into  my  room.  My  whole  frame  feels  the 
work  I  have  been  undergoing.  Thank  God  one  week  has  passed  so 
well. 

4th. —  Acted  Cardinal  Richelieu.  The  audience  called  for  me  at 
the  end  of  fourth  act  —  of  course  I  would  not  go.  Called.  Bulwer 
and  Forster  came  into  my  room  ;  Bulwer  delighted. 

7th.  —  Werner. 

9th.  —  Othello. 

llth. —  Lear. 

London,  Rugby,  November  12th. — Busy  with  needful  affairs  of 
packing  for  my  journey.  ' 

On  the  way  thought  over  the  few  words  with  which  I  would  preface 
my  reading  to  the  boys,  and  thought  on  the  scenes  I  purposed  reading. 
Found  a  fly  waiting  for  me  at  the  station,  Rugby,  as  ordered  by  Mary 
Bucknill,  and  with  various  feelings  made  up  of  memory  and  present 
speculations,  passed  through  the  old  town  with  its  altered  face,  and 
reached  Mr.  Bucknill's.  Mary  Bucknill  received  me  with  deep  joy, 
I  may  say.  I  arranged  my  dress,  and  called  on  Dr.  Goulburn ;  he 
gave  me  a  very  gentlemanlike  and  very  cordial  reception,  and  was  very 
earnest  in  his  wish  that  I  should  be  his  guest  now  or  hereafter.  I 
then  returned  and  looked  over  the  leaves  of  my  book,  etc.,  waiting  for 
Dr.  Goulburn,  who  volunteered  to  call  and  accompany  me  to  the  school 
with  Lushington.  They  came.  Lushington,  a  very  gentlemanlike 
boy,  tendered  me  the  check  of  £50,  which  I  asked  him  to  keep  till 
after  the  evening.  Dr.  G.  pioneered  my  way  through  the  dense 
crowd  from  the  bottom  to  the  top  of  the  school,  the  boys  applauding, 
but  decorously.  The  school-room  was  thronged,  and  I  was  very  fear- 
ful of  my  audience,  among  whom,  the  boys,  I  thought  I  felt  unsteadi- 
ness and  disposition  to  inattention.  But  as  the  reading  of  the  play, 
"  Hamlet,"  proceeded,  they  became  mute  and  enrapt  in  its  interest.  I 
addressed  a  few  words  to  them,  intimating  that  the  project  of  this 
means  of  contribution  to  the  Shakespeare  House  fund  was  the  sug- 
gestion of  their  own  praepostors,  and  thanking  Dr.  Goulburn  for  at- 


G20  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1850. 

fording  me  the  opportunity  of  helping  them  to  realize  it.  The  reading 
was  to  begin  at  half-past  two,  but  it  must  have  been  within  a  quart  IT 
to  three  o'clock  before  I  opened  my  book,  and  I  was  uneasy  lest  the 
day-light  should  fail  me,  as  it  began  to  obscure  during  the  later  scenes. 
I  took  much  pains  to  keep  up  the  excitement,  and  by  the  abbreviation 
I  think  I  succeeded  in  keeping  alive  the  interest  of  the  audience.  The 
boys,  who  knew  I  had  obtained  a  half-holiday  for  them,  applauded,  of 
course,  most  lustily  at  the  conclusion.  Dr.  Goulburn  addressed  the 
assembly,  particularly  the  boys,  expressing  their  obligation  to  me  for 
thus  visiting  them,  and  for  giving  such  illustrations  to  the  poet.  He 
expressed  himself  again,  very  earnestly,  desirous  that  I  should  visit 
him,  and  we  parted  very  pleasantly. 

The  express  train  brought  me  back  to  London,  which  I  had  left 
about  twelve  hours  before,  and  all  this  space  traversed,  and  all  this 
done  within  that  compass  of  time,  still  and  still  to  me,  it  is  wonderful. 
Thus  ends  my  projected  public  visit  to  the  scene  of  my  boyhood.  Many 
have  been  the  thoughts  passing  through  my  mind,  the  changes  in 
others,  in  myself,  what  I  might  have  been,  what  I  am,  what  my  chil- 
dren may  be  !  O  God,  in  Thee  is  my  hope  and  my  trust.  Blessed  be 
Thy  name. 

London,  November,  13th. —  Richelieu. 

14:th.  —  Acted  Virginius.  I  thought  to  myself,  it  was  the  last  time 
before,  as  they  term  it  in  play-bill  trickery,  the  final  performance,  and 
I  thought  I  would  try  to  show  the  audience  the  full  power  of  the  char- 
acter. I  kept  my  mind  on  the  part,  and  acted  it,  certainly  never  bet- 
ter ;  the  audience  was  extraordinarily  excited.  Called  at  the  end  of 
the  third  act ;  of  course  I  did  not  respond.  Was  greatly  received  at 
the  final  call.  Fox  and  Forster  came  round  in  great  excitement,  Fox 
almost  overcome.  Manby  came  into  my  room  ;  I  said  I  must  have 
some  assistance,  Willmott,  and  more,  if  "  King  Richard  II."  was  done. 
He  said  he  would  speak  to  Webster.  I  spoke  after  to  Mr.  F.  Web- 
ster, complaining  grievously  stating  the  necessity  of  help. 

In  the  second  act  my  thoughts  so  fixed  upon  my  blessed  Nina  that 
my  emotion  nearly  overpowered  me.  Bless  her  and  my  beloved  Joan. 

IGth.  —  lago. 

18th. —  Acted  Brutus  in  my  own'opinion,  in  my  own  judgment,  far 
beyond  any  performance  I  ever  gave  of  the  character ;  it  was  my  last 
to  many,  and  I  wished  it  to  be  impressive.  I  do  not  think  the  audi- 
ence, in  the  aggregate,  were  equal  to  the  performance ;  they  applauded 
warmly  the  salient  passages,  but  they  did  not  seem  to  watch  the  gen- 
tle, loving,  self-subdued  mind  of  Brutus  which  I  tried  to  make  mani- 
fest before  them.  The  gentle  touches  were  done  with  great  care,  and, 
I  think,  with  skill  —  the  remonstrances  with  Cassius  in  third  act  about 
Caesar's  funeral  and,  in  the  fourth,  the  quarrel. 

19^.  —  Read  in  the  greenroom  the  play  of  "King  Richard  II." 
I  did  not  attempt  more  than  to  convey  to  the  other  actors  the  idea  of 
their  characters.  Settled  the  alteration  of  nights  with  Webster  and 
settled  his  scene  plot  of  Richard  with  him. 


1850.  HENRY  TAYLOR.  621 

Marked  the  sides  of  a  book  of  "  King  Richard  II."  Went  over 
words  of  the  two  first  acts  of  same. 

20th.  —  Othello. 

21st,  —  Acted  Macbeth,  most  nobly,  never  better.  Called.  Fors- 
ter  came  into  my  room.  I  was  quite  hysterical  from  weakness  and 
fatigue.  He  showed  me  some  charming  lines  on  my  reading  at 
Rugby.  At  his  request  sent  a  brief  notice  of  the  occurrence. 

23d.  —  Acted  Cassius,  tried  to  carry  through  the  burning  spirit  of 
the  impatient  republican.  Called.  As  I  passed  the  stage-box,  the 
gentleman  near  it  uttered  loud  in  my  ear,  "  .God  bless  you ! "  That 
was  worth  the  audience. 

24:th.  —  Went  to  Mortlake  through  a  most  fearful  storm  that  made 
me  feel  for  the  coachman.  Arrived  there,  received  a  very  cordial 
welcome  from  Henry  Taylor.  In  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  a  neigh- 
bor of  theirs,  Mrs.  Cameron,  an  East  Indian,  and  a  most  unreserved 
enthusiast,  came  in,  and  Spring  Rice  and  his  wife  made  our  party. 
I  enjoyed  the  evening.  Henry  Taylor  read  a  very  sweet  poem  to 
"  Virginia,"  which  I  read  afterwards  to  myself.  Read  Katie's  lines  to 
Mrs.  H.  Taylor,  who  seemed  much  interested  in  my  Katie.  Coming 
home  through  a  very  fine  night. 

25th.  —  Werner. 

27th.  —  Acted  Hamlet  in  my  very,  very  best  manner  ;  it  is  the  last 
time  but  one  I  shall  ever  appear  in  this  wonderful  character.  I  felt 
it,  and  that  to  many,  to  most,  it  would  be  the  last  time  they  would 
ever  see  me  in  it.  I  acted  with  feeling  ;  I  never  acted  better.  I  felt 
my  allegiance  to  Shakespeare,  the  glorious,  the  divine.  Was  called 
and  welcomed  with  enthusiasm. 

28th.  —  Richelieu. 

30th. '—  Lear. 

December  2d.  —  Richard  II. 

4th.  —  My  first  thought  was  the  wish  of  many  happy  returns  of 
this  day  to  my  dear,  dear  sister  and  friend,  God  bless  her.  And  in 
my  prayers  my  unworthy  lips  muttered  entreaties  for  her  continuance 
(it  is  our  instinct  so  to  do),  in  happiness  on  earth.  God  bless  her. 
Acted  Wolsey. 

5th.  —  Am  now  sunk  into  the  habit  of  late  rising,  half-past  eight, 
which  leaves  me  no  time  before  a  ten  o'clock  rehearsal.  The  excite- 
ment of  my  system  I  have  not  time  to  lull,  and  thus  day  after  day 
alternates  between  languor  and  feverish  endeavor.  What  a  mode  of 
blindly,  and  as  it  were,  furiously,  fretting  and  struggling  through  life ! 
For  so  it  is. 

Wilkins  called.  I  wished  to  give  him  this  one  parting  order  to 
please  him,  poor  fellow.  He  spoke  to  me  of  having  seen  all  my  first 
nights  of  characters  except  two  ;  talked  of  George  Barker,  of  his 
great  wealth,  which  made  me  reflect.  I  was  in  the  enjoyment  of  a 
very  excellent  income  for  a  bachelor,  I  think  £1,000  a  year,  when  he 
could  scarcely  have  had  more  than  £150,  if  so  much.  He  is  said  to 
to  be  now  worth  £10,000  per  annum,  and  I  not  more  than  £1,200. 


(\-2-2  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1850. 

I  am  not  at  all  dissatisfied,  discontented,  or  repining  at  this  disposition 
of  things.  I  only  pray  that  my  income  may  be  maintained.  I  am 
grateful  for  it.  As  I  reflect,  look  back  on  my  past  life,  the  thought 
of  being  rich,  the  ambition  to  be  so,  never  once  entered  into  my  mind. 
I  was  most  anxious  to  be  independent ;  and,  after  having  purchased 
my  brother's  company,  thought  of  retiring  (1829),  on  what  I  then,  with- 
out children,  regarded  as  independence,  £400  per  annum.  God  sent 
us  children  (His  blessing  be  on  them),  and  all  my  plans  were  altered. 
Still  I  could  not  think  of  wealth  for  them,  as  they  came  fast  and  dear, 
but  diminished  my  own  means  to  secure  them  by  insurances  the  means 
of  education  and  subsistence  in  case  of  my  death.  Thus  I  am  what 
the  world  would  call  a  poor  man.  I  trust,  in  reality,  a  contented  and 
grateful  one. 

7th.  —  Macbeth. 

3th.  —  King  John. 

10^.  —  Dined  at  the  Athenaeum  with  Cattermole.  Saw  Fonblan- 
que,  Stokes,  and  Professor  Sedgwick,  who  came  up  to  be  introduced 
to  me. 

llth.  —  Acted  King  Henry  IV.  and  Mr.  Oakley,  taking  much  pains 
with  them  —  they  both  seemed  to  have  a  strong  effect  upon  the  audi- 
ence. Called,  and  led  on  Mrs.  Warner.  Forster  came  into  my  room, 
quite  elated  with  the  effect  of  the  comedy. 

1 2th.  —  Virginius. 

13th. — I  went  to  Kensal  Green  ;  my  thoughts  were  all  upon  the 
past ;  my  mind  filled  with  the  pictures  of  my  two  sweet  blessed  chil- 
dren as  they  looked  in  life  and  in  death  to  me.  Blessed,  blessed  be- 
ings !  The  future,  too,  had  its  share  in  the  current  of  my  thoughts, 
the  past  has  taught  me  to  fear ;  and  therefore  I  have  little  of  cheerful- 
ness or  confidence  in  anticipating  what  may  be  to  come.  A  funeral 
was  going  to  the  chapel  as  I  went  up  the  walk,  and  I  had  to  linger 
about  reading  the  senseless  epitaphs  of  esquires  (!)  and  Major-Gen- 
erals, etc.,  and  Mr.'s,  in  impatience  at  the  vanity  which  seems  to  sur- 
vive the  creature.  A  boy  was  the  chief  mourner  at  the  funeral  —  ai 
son,  I  presume,  following  in  the  course  of  things  his  parent  to  the 
grave.  Alas,  how  bitter  is  the  grief,  when  that  natural  order  is  in- 
verted !  When  they  were  gone  the  attendant  went  with  me  to  the 
vault,  and  knowing  what  I  came  to  look  on,  went  before  me  to  the 
spot.  There  they  lay  —  all  that  is  earthly  of  my  sweet  innocent  chil- 
dren —  side  by  side,  the  coffins  of  my  beloved  Nina,  of  my  darling 
Joan.  My  heart  is  sad  to  despondency  as  I  think  upon  their  destinies, 
the  bright  rich  bud  struck  off  its  stem  in  all  its  health  and  beauty,  and 
the  more  ripened  flower  in  all  its  healthful  promise  blighted  and 
drooping  rapidly  into  the  earth.  My  confidence  in  the  future  is  over- 
cast with  fear.  I  can  but  pray  to  God  for  good  to  all  my  dear  ones 
in  this  world,  and  a  blessed  reunion  in  an  after-life.  May  my  bones 
be  laid  with  those  I  have  been  to  visit  this  day  in  our  quiet  home  of 
Sherborne,  and  may  my  faults  and  vices  be  so  far  forgiven  that  our 
spirits  may  have  communion  and  participated  bliss  in  another  state  of 
being.  Amen. 


1850.  THE  WATERLOO  MEDAL.  623 

loth.  —  Forster  came  in  to  call  for  me  —  went  together  to  dine  at 
Dickens's.  The  Fox's  and  Paxton  were  there.  Fox  is  always  the 
same,  intelligent  and  philosophic.  Paxton  was  new  to  me,  a  self- 
educated  man  —  from  a  mere  gardener.  I  was  delighted  with  him  ; 
his  account  of  his  nurture  of  the  Victoria  Lily,  a  water-plant  (river), 
was  one  of  the  most  interesting  narratives  I  ever  listened  to  ;  an  ex- 
planation of  one  of  Nature's  miracles  that  more  and  more  lifted  up 
one's  heart  to  God  and  made  one  ask,  "  And  are  not  Thy  laws  miracles 
enough  ?  "  Who  would  ask  for  their  suspension  to  satisfy  themselves 
of  Thy  will  ?  Passed  a  very  pleasant  evening. 

1 6th.  —  King  John. 

17 'th.  —  Went  out  in  carriage,  and  called  to  leave  a  note  and  card 
at  Lord  John  Russell's;  called  on  the  Sheils  —  saw  them.  Sheil1 
showed  me  the  Waterloo  medal  by  Pistrucci,  a  splendid  piece  of  work. 
He  gave  me  the  direction  of  the  parcel  in  the  Duke's  own  hand  with 
the  false  spelling  of  "  Imediate"  They  set  out  for  Florence  on  Satur- 
day. Dressed,  and  Talfourd  called  for  me  and  we  went  to  Judge 
Vaughan  Williams  to  dine.  Met  Bourne,  who  had  called  here  in  the 
morning,  Lord  de  Ros,  Judge  Park,  and  some  pleasing  men.  From 
thence  went  to  Mr.  LiddelPs,  and  with  his  party  to  the  Westminster 
Play  ;  it  was  the  "  Andria,"  well  acted  in  some  parts  ;  Davus,  Pam- 
philo,  Chremes,  good.  Prologue,  complimentary  to  the  defunct  Ade- 
laide and  some  worthies  of  worth.  Epilogue,  a  fair  laugh  at  the  Peace 
Convention.  Saw  there,  Milman,  Lord  Lansdowne,  and  some  to  whom 
I  was  introduced ;  went  to  the  Liddells  afterwards  —  introduced  to 
Mrs.  L.,  very  beautiful  and  pleasing.  From  thence  with  the  Judge  to 
Talfourd's  ;  saw  Lady  T.  as  usual,  Procters,  Pollocks,  Dickens,  Kenyon, 
Fladgate,  Maclise,  Pickersgill,  Roberts,  C.  Landseer,  Chittys,  Forster, 
Mrs.  H.  Twiss.  Left  soon. 

18th.  _  Henry  IV.,  Oakley. 

19^.  —  Richelieu. 

21  st.  —  Wolsey. 

22d.  —  Sheil  called  and  sat  some  time.  Shall  I  ever  see  him  again  ? 
I  fear  never.  I  have  ever  retained  a  most  affectionate  regard  for  him 
and  great  admiration  of  his  brilliant  powers.  Though  separated  by 
the  character  of  our  respective  pursuits,  he  has  ever  been  a  faithful 
friend.  God  bless  him. 

23d.  —  Henry  IV.,  Oakley. 

2±th  to  2$th.  —  [Spent  Christmas  with  family  at  Sherborne.] 

London,  December  30th.  —  Lear. 

31st. —  Acted  Henry  IV.  and  Oakley.  The  year  is  closed.  As  I 
look  back  upon  it,  it  appears  to  me  a  bewildering  rugged  view,  where 
many  objects  are  confusedly  seen,  but  as  yet  my  mind  is  not  equal  to 
contemplate  and  regard  them  in  this  regular  succession.  My  first 

1  The  Right  Honorable  Richard  Lalor  Sheil  was  at  this  time  Master  of  the  Mint 
in  Lord  John  Russell's  administration.  A  proof  of  the  great  Waterloo  medal  had 
probably  been  sent  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  returned  by  him  to  the  Master 
of  the  Mint.  The  medal  was  never  issued.  —  ED. 


G24  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.       .  1851. 

born,  my  beloved  Nina,  faded  from  before  me ;  and  my  sweet  Jona- 
than was  granted  to  my  heart.  O  God,  let  my  soul  be  grateful,  in 
submission  to  Thy  decrees  and  in  the  full  belief  of  thy  divine  good- 
ness. Amen. 

1851. 

[Sentence  prefixed :] 

The  business  of  life  is  to  learn  ;  it  is  our  pride  resents  the  offer  to  tench  us,  our 
indolence  declines  it. 

London,  January  1st.  —  Acted  Cardinal  Richelieu.  2d.  —  King 
John. 

3d.  —  Acted  Virginius,  one  of  the  most  brilliant  and  powerful  per- 
formances of  the  character  I  have  ever  given.  I  did  indeed  "  gore  my 
own  thoughts  "  to  do  it,  for  my  own  Katie  was  in  my  mind,  as  in  one 
part  the  tears  streamed  down  my  cheeks  ;  and,  in  another  she  who 
is  among  the  blest,  beloved  one  !  Such  is  a  player's  mind  and  heart ! 
Called. 

6th.  —  Macbeth.  7th.  —  Stranger.  8th.  —  Wolsey.  9th.  —  Rich- 
elieu. 1  Oth.  —  Henry  I V.,  Oakley. 

11  th. —  Dined  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pollock1  and  dear  Miss  Herries, 
whom  I  like  so  much.  Met  Kenneth  Macaulay,  the  handsome  boy, 
now  a  fine,  lusty,  middle-aged  man.  A  pleasing  cheerful  day.  Saw 
my  print  in  the  drawing-room,  a  welcome  in  itself! 

13th.  —  Lear.     1  ith.  —  Werner.     15th.  —  Shylock. 

16^.  —  Acted  Virginius,  for  the  last  time,  as  I  have  scarcely  ever 
—  no,  never  —  acted  it  before;  with  discrimination,  energy,  and 
pathos,  exceeding  any  former  effort.  The  audience  were  greatly 
excited.  Called. 

Wrote  to  Forster,  inclosing  him  "  the  part "  of  Virginius  and  the 
parchment  I  have  always  used  in  the  second  act,  in  the  performance 
of  the  character.  I  was  deeply  impressed  by  the  reflection  that  in  this 
character  —  which  has  seemed  one  of  those  exclusively  my  own,  •which 
has  been  unvaryingly  powerful  in  its  effects  upon  my  audience  since 
the  first  night,  in  1820,  when  I  carried  them  by  storm,  when  Richard 
Jones  came  round  from  the  front  of  the  theater,  Coveut  Garden,  into 
our  dressing-room  and,  laying  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  exclaimed, 
"  Well,  my  dear  boy,  you  have  done  it  now !  "  —  that  I  should  never 
appear  in  this  again,  and  now  I  have  done  it,  and  done  with  it !  I  was 
much  affected  during  the  evening,  very  much,  something  with  a  partial 
feeling  of  sorrow  at  parting  with  an  old  friend,  for  such  this  character 
has  been  to  me,  and,  alas,  no  trace  of  it  remains.  The  thought,  the 
practice,  the  deep  emotion  conjured  up,  the  pictures  grouped  so  repeat- 
edly throughout  the  work,  live  now  only  in  memory.  Alas,  for  the 
player,  who  really  has  made  his  calling  an  art,  as  I  can  stand  up  be- 
fore all  men  and.  say  I  have  done  ! 

1  Now  Sir  Frederick  and  Lady  Pollock  :  No.  21  Torrington  Square.  The  print 
of  Macready  was  that  engraved  from  Thorburn's  minature,  and  published  by  Hollo- 
way  in  1S44.  —  ED. 


1851.  LAST  PERFORMANCE   OF  IAGO.  625 

loth.  —  Dined  with  Justice  Coleridge,  to  meet  the  "Wordsworth 
Memorial  Sub-Committee.  Before  dinner,  whilst  looking  at  some 
Christmas  books,  I  asked,  "  Have  you  seen  Raskin's  Christmas  Book  ? 
It  is  charming."  "  Indeed."  "  Oh ! "  I  went  on,  "  it  is  a  most  de- 
lightful book."  Mr.  J.  Coleridge  observed,  "  Do  not  you  know  him  ? 
This  is  Mr.  Ruskin."  And  I  was  introduced.  I  like  the  family  very 
much,  and  passed  a  pleasant  cheerful  day.  Robertson  was  there. 
Boxall  and  Manby  called  in  at  lodgings. 

20th.  —  Cassius.     21st.  —  Henry  IV.,  Oakley. 

22d. —  Acted  lago  with  a  vigor  and  discrimination  that  I  have 
never  surpassed,  if  ever  equaled.  I  do  riot  think  I  ever  acted  it  so 
powerfully. 

The  last  performance  of  lago  was,  in  my  mind,  a  commentary  on 
the  text,  an  elucidation,  and  opening  out  of  the  profound  conception 
of  that  great  creative  mind,  that  almost  divine  intelligence,  Shake- 
speare, which  has  not  been  given  before  in  the  inward  feeling  of  the 
part :  the  selfishness,  sensuality,  and  delight  in  the  exercise  of  his  own 
intellectual  power  I  have  never  seen  in  Cooke  or  Young,  nor  read  of 
in  Henderson,  as  being  so  developed.  I  don't  believe  from  what  I 
saw  of  them,  that  they  penetrated  beyond  the  surface  of  the  part, 
which  they  displayed  cleverly  enough  and  effectively.  But  what  is 
the  difference  to  an  audience  ?  To  how  many  among  them  does  the 
deep  reflection,  the  toil  of  thought,  carried  out  into  the  most  animated 
and  energetic  personation,  speak  its  own  necessary  course  of  labor  ? 
By  how  many  among  them  is  the  "  poor"  player,  who  devotes  himself 
to  his  art,  appreciated  —  where  are  the  intelligences  capable  of  under- 
standing his  author  or  himself? 

London,  January  2Sd.  —  Benedick. 

24ith.  —  Acted  Brutus  as  I  never  —  no,  never  —  acted  it  before,  in 
regard  to  dignified  familiarity  of  dialogue,  or  enthusiastic  inspiration 
of  lofty  purpose.  The  tenderness,  the  reluctance  to  deeds  of  violence, 
the  instinctive  abhorrence  of  tyranny,  the  open  simplicity  of  heart,  and 
natural  grandeur  of  soul,  I  never  so  perfectly,  so  consciously,  portrayed 
before.  I  think  the  audience  felt  it. 

2Qth.  —  Found  at  lodgings  a  note  from  Mitchell  offering  me  the  St. 
James's  Theater  free  for  my  benefit.  I  wrote  to  him  to  thank  him 
very  warmly  for  it. 

27th.  —  Acted  Othello.  It  was  very  curious  how  extremely  nerv- 
ous I  was  of  acting  before  my  children  ;  many  tears  I  shed  in  think- 
ing of  them,  and  of  the  dear  one  who  would  have  been  their  com- 
panion. I  was  most  anxious  to  act  my  very  best.  I  tried  to  do  so, 
but  am  not  sure  that  I  succeeded.  The  audience  was  cold,  and,  as 
Mr.  Howe  observed,  "  slow." 

I  fought  up,  and  I  think  I  acted  well,  but  I  cannot  think  the  play 
gave  satisfaction.  Called. 

28th.  —  Wolsey. 

29th.  —  Acted  Hamlet;  certainly  in  a  manner  equal  to  any  former 
performance  of  the  part  I  have  ever  given,  if  not,  on  the  whole,  ex- 
40 


62 G  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1851. 

ceeding  in  power,  consistency,  grace,  and  general  truth  all  I  have 
ever  achieved.  I  was  possessed  with  the  feeling  of  the  character. 
The  character  has  been  a  sort  of  love  with  me.  The  press  has  been 
slow  to  acknowledge  my  realization  of  the  man,  of  the  mind,  of  the 
nature  of  this  beautiful  conception,  because  they  have  not  understood 
it.  Bowes,  a  critic  far  beyond  the  many  who  write  here,  observed  to 
me,  "  Yours  is  the  only  intelligible  Hamlet  I  ever  saw,"  and  this, 
•Forster,  Charles  Knight,  and  White  enthusiastically  admitted  to-night. 
I  was  gratified  by  their  excitement.  I  have  iu  Hamlet  worked 
against  prejudice  and  against  stubborn  ignorance,  and  it  has  been  a 
labor  of  love  with  me. 

Beautiful  Hamlet,  farewell,  farewell !  There  was  no  alloy  to  our 
last  parting.  Called  and  most  fervently  received. 

30th.  —  Richelieu. 

31  si.  — Macbeth. 

February  3d.  —  Acted  King  Lear,  certainly  in  a  superior  style  to 
what  I  ever  did  before.  Power,  passion,  discrimination,  tenderness, 
constantly  kept  in  mind.  Called  at  the  fall  of  curtain  and  went  for- 
ward, lingering  to  see  if  the  audience  expected  me  to  speak  ;  it 
seemed  as  if  they  did  not,  and  I  left  the  stage.  They  called  again, 
and  after  some  time  I  had  to  appear  again.  After  waiting  some  time 
the  noise  subsided,  and  I  said:  "  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  —  The  period 
of  my  theatrical  engagements  is  reached  this  evening,  but,  as  my  ad- 
vertisements have  signified,  there  is  yet  one  occasion  more  on  which  I 
have  to  appear  before  you,  and  to  that,  the  last  performance  in  which 
I  shall  ever  hope  to  strive  for  your  approbation,  I  reserve  the  expres- 
sion of  the  few  words  of  acknowledgment  and  regret  that  I  may  de- 
sire and  endeavor  to  offer  you,  my  true,  patient,  and  long  approved 
friends."  This  was  kindly  received.  White,  Talfourd,  Dickens,  Fors- 
ter, Willmott,  Manby,  Webster,  came  up  to  my  room.  I  do  not  know 
how  many  letters  were  awaiting  me,  and  almost  all  on  the  subject  of 
places  for  my  benefit. 

My  theatrical  engagement  is  concluded.  My  professional  life  may 
be  said  to  be  ended.  I  have  only  to  act  one  night  more  for  my  own 
benefit,  in  regard  to  which  I  am  bound  to  no  man ;  I  have  acquitted 
myself  of  my  dues  —  I  am  free  !  Nearly  fifty-eight  years  of  my  life 
are  numbered  :  that  life  was  begun  in  a  mediocre  position  —  mere  re- 
spectability ;  my  father  maintained  a  good  character  as  an  honest  and 
a  liberal  man  ;  my  mother  was  a  woman  of  good  family,  of  superior 
intellect,  excellent  heart,  and  of  high  character,  but  at  ten  years  of  age 
I  lost  her  counsel  and  example.  My  heart's  thanks  are  constantly  of- 
fered to  God  Almighty  for  the  share  of  good  He  has  permitted  to  be 
allotted  to  me  in  this  life.  I  have  attained  the  loftiest  position  in  the 
art  to  which  my  destiny  directed  me,  have  gained  the  respect  of  the 
honored  and  respected,  and  the  friendship  of  the  highly  gifted,  ami- 
able, and  distinguished.  My  education,  my  habits,  my  turn  of  mind 
did  not  suggest  to  me  the  thought  of  amassing  wealth,  or  I  might 
have  been  rich  ;  I  have  what  I  trust  will  prove  competence,  and  most 


1851.  FAREWELL  BENEFIT  AT  DRURY  LANE.  627 

grateful  am  I  for  its  possession.  My  home  is  one  of  comfort  and  of 
love,  and  I  look  towards  it  with  cheerfulness  and  delightful  security 
of  heart,  and  most  gratefully  and  earnestly  do  I  bless  the  name  and 
thank  the  bounty  of  Almighty  God,  Who  has  vouchsafed  such  an 
indulgence  to  me,  undeserving  as  I  have  been,  and  sinner  as  I  am. 
Blessed  be  His  name.  Amen. 

4:th.  —  Read  a  long  review  of  my  professional  character  in  "  The 
Times,"  kind  and  complimentary,  whilst  taking  the  analytic  process  to 
prove  its  own  truth. 

5th.  —  "Worked  at  my  parting  address  to  my  audience.  I  fear  I  can- 
not make  it  the  direct,  simple,  sensible  composition  that  I  desire  so 
much. 

Forster  called.  He  told  me  of  the  offer  of  Mr.  Phelps,  thinking  my 
night  was  postponed  for  want  of  a  company  to  close  his  theater  and 
place  his  company  at  my  disposal.  It  does  him  great  honor. 

llth.  — Webster  came  and  offered  £5  for  every  dress  ;  there  were 
twenty-five,  but  I  withdrew  the  armor.  The  deduction  of  this  would 
of  course  reduce  the  sum  total,  and  therefore  I  said  if  you  give  me  the 
round  sum  of  £100  I  shall  be  satisfied.  To  that  he  instantly  agreed 
and,  I  think,  has  a  very  excellent  bargain,  but  he  met  me  in  a  very 
gentlemanlike  tone.  I  am  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  clothes,  etc.,  and  glad 
to  have  the  £100  in  my  pocket. 

Dined  with  Mrs.  Dickens.     Walked  home  ;  note  from  Kenyon. 
Tried  to  think  on  the  subject  of  my  dinner  speech.     It  seems  that 
the  tickets  are  in  active  request  already,  and  that  the  room  will  not 
contain  the  applicants. 

12th.  —  A  very  grateful  note  from  Phelps  acknowledging  my  Riche- 
lieu's order. 

[llth.  —  Read  Hamlet  at  Cambridge.] 
[18th.  —  Read  Hamlet  at  Oxford.] 
[21s£.  —  Read  Hamlet  at  Eton.] 

24th.  —  Went  to  Kensal  Green  ;  looked  on  the  coffins  that  inclose 
the  remains  of  my  two  blessed  children.  Bless  them. 

2oth.  —  Read  over  Macbeth  for  the  last  time  as  a  player.  Looked 
over  the  speeches  I  must  try  and  deliver. 

26th.  —  My  first  thought  as  I  awoke  was  that  this  day  was  to  be  the 
close  of  my  professional  life.  I  meditated  on  it,  and  not  one  feeling  of 
regret  intermingled  with  the  placid  satisfaction  accompanying  my  per- 
formance of  every  act,  needfully  preparative  to  the  coming  event,  as  I 
said  to  myself,  "  I  shall  never  have  to  do  this  again."  My  audience  I 
think  of  with  affectionate  respect ;  they  have  shown  actual  attachment 
to  me,  and,  "  loving  my  fellow-men,"  I  part  from  them  with  re'gret  and 
think  of  them  with  gratitude.  Note  from  Dickens,  inclosing  one  from 
Miss  Coutts,  wishing  a  box  or  five  stalls.  Arranged  affairs  for  the 
business  of  the  day,  a  formidable  one  before  me.  Before  I  rose  I  went 
over,  according  to  my  wont,  what  I  had  to  say  this  evening,  and  thought 
over  the  subject-matter  of  my  dinner  address. 

Went  to  the  theater.     Dressed  in  the  room  which  I  had  fitted  up 


628  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1851. 

for  myself  when  manager  and  lessee  of  the  theater,  and,  as  I  heard  the 
shouts  and  cries  of  the  assembled  crowds  at  the  doors,  thought,  with 
thankfulness  to  God,  on  the  time  when  I  listened  to  those  sounds  with 
a  nervous  and  fretful  feeling,  my  fortune  and  my  children's  weal  de- 
pending on  the  result  of  my  undertaking.  Acted  Macbeth  as  I  never, 
never  before  acted  it ;  with  a  reality,  a  vigor,  a  truth,  a  dignity  that  I 
never  before  threw  into  my  delineation  of  this  favorite  character.  I 
felt  everything,  everything  I  did,  and  of  course  the  audience  felt  with 
me.  I  rose  with  the  play,  and  the  last  scene  was  a  real  climax.  I  did 
not  see  who  assisted  me  to  my  room,  I  believe  it  was  Mr.  Simpson  of 
Birmingham.  I  dressed  as  rapidly  as  I  could  and,  thinking  of  what  I 
had  to  do,  gave  notice  of  "  being  ready,"  that  dear  old  Willmott  might, 
according  to  his  wish,  clear  the  entrance  for  me.  I  thought  over  what 
I  had  to  say  and  went  forward.  To  attempt  any  description  of  the 
state  of  the  house,  of  the  wild  enthusiasm  of  applause,  every  little  por- 
tion of  the  vast  assembly  in  motion,  the  prolongation,  the  deafening 
cheers,  would  be  useless.  After  waiting  for  a  time  that  I  have  never 
in  my  experience  seen  approached,  I  advanced.  On  my  first  entrance, 
before  I  began  Macbeth,  whilst  standing  to  receive  the  enthusiastic 
greetings  of  my  friends,  the  audience,  the  thought  occurred  to  me  of 
the  presence  of  my  children,  and  that  for  a  minute  overcame  me ;  but 
I  soon  recovered  myself  into  self-possession,  and  assumed  Macbeth  re- 
turning from  his  triumph.  On  the  occasion  of  my  address  I  was  deeply 
touched  by  the  fervent,  the  unbounded  expression  of  attachment  from 
all  before  me,  but  preserved  my  self-possession.  I  addressed  them  in 
these  words : 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  —  My  last  theatrical  part  is  played,  and, 
in  accordance  with  long-established  usage,  I  appear  once  more  before 
you. 

"  Even  if  I  were  without  precedent  for  the  discharge  of  this  act  of 
duty,  it  is  one  which  my  own  feelings  would  irresistibly  urge  upon 
me ;  for  as  I  look  back  upon  my  long  professional  career,  I  see  in  it 
but  one  continuous  record  of  indulgence  and  support  extended  to  me, 
cheering  me  in  my  onward  progress,  and  upholding  me  in  mortifying 
emergencies. 

"  1  have  therefore  been  desirous  of  offering  you,  in  my  own  char- 
acter, my  parting  acknowledgments  for  the  impartial  kindness  with 
which  my  humble  efforts  have  uniformly  been  received,  and  for  a  life 
made  happier  by  your  favors. 

"The  distance  of  more  than  five  and  thirty  years  has  not  dimmed- 
my  recollection  of  the  encouragement  which  gave  fresh  impulse  to  the 
inexperienced  essays  of  my  youth,  and  stimulated  me  to  perseverance, 
when  struggling  hardly  for  equality  of  position  against  the  genius  and 
talent  of  those  artists  whose  superior  excellence  I  ungrudgingly  ad- 
mitted, admired,  and  honored. 

"  That  encouragement  helped  to  place  me,  in  respect  of  privileges 
and  emolument,  on  a  footing  with  my  distinguished  competitors. 

"  With  the  growth  of  time  your  favor  seemed  to  grow,  and,  undis- 


1851.  FAREWELL  ADDRESS.  629 

turbed  in  my  hold  on  your  opinion,  from  year  to  year  I  found  friends 
more  thickly  clustering  round  me. 

"  All  I  can  advance  to  testify  how  justly  I  have  appreciated  the 
patronage  thus  liberally  awarded  me,  is  the  devotion,  throughout  those 
years,  of  my  best  energies  to  your  service. 

"  My  ambition  to  establish  a  theater,  in  regard  to  decorum  and  taste, 
worthy  of  our  country,  and  to  have  in  it  the  plays  of  our  divine 
Shakespeare  fitly  illustrated,  was  frustrated  by  those  whose  duty  it 
was,  in  virtue  of  the  trust  committed  to  them,  themselves  to  have 
undertaken  the  task.  But  some  good  seed  has  yet  been  sown  ;  and  in 
the  zeal  and  creditable  productions  of  certain  of  our  present  managers 
we  have  assurance  that  the  corrupt  editions  and  unworthy  presenta- 
tions of  past  days  will  never  be  restored,  but  that  the  purity  of  our 
great  poet's  text  will  from  henceforward  be  held  on  our  English  stage 
in  the  reverence  it  ever  shall  command. 
"  I  have  little  more  to  say. 

"  By  some  the  relation  of  an  actor  to  his  audience  is  considered  as 
slight  and  transient.  I  do  not  feel  it  so. 

"  The  repeated  manifestation,  under  circumstances  personally  affect- 
ing me,  of  your  favorable  sentiments  towards  me  will  live  with  life 
among  my  most  grateful  memories ;  and  because  I  would  not  willingly 
abate  one  jot  in  your  esteem,  I  retire  with  the  belief  of  yet  unfailing 
powers  rather  than  linger  on  the  scene  to  set  in  contrast  the  feeble 
style  of  age  with  the  more  vigorous  exertions  of  my  better  years. 

"  Words  —  at  least  such  as  I  can  command  —  are  ineffectual  to  con- 
vey my  thanks  ;  you  will  believe  that  I  feel  far  more  than  I  give 
utterance  to.  « 

"  With  sentiments  of  the  deepest  gratitude  I  take  my  leave,  bidding 
you,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  in  my  past  professional  capacity,  with 
regret,  a  last  farewell." 

This  address  was  frequently  interrupted  by  expressions  of  satisfac- 
tion and  sympathy,  and  occasionally  with  the  warmest  applause ;  the 
picture  of  the  theater  as  I  bowed  repeatedly  in  returning  my  thanks  to 
them  was,  in  my  experience,  unprecedented.  No  actor  has  ever  re- 
ceived such  testimony  of  respect  and  regard  in  this  country.  My  dear 
countryman  Willmott,  good  old  fellow,  came  into  my  room,  Dickens, 
Jerdan,  Mr.  Hogarth,  applying  for  the  address ;  Bulwer  Lytton, 
White,  Forster,  Jerrold,  Mark  Lemon,  Oxenford,  for  the  address  ; 
Lever  and  Norton  from  Manchester,  whom  I  was  delighted  to  see,  and 
whom  I  welcomed  most  cordially  when  I  recognized  them.  Manby,  etc., 
came  in,  all  delighted  with  the  evening,  and  pleased,  as  they  expressed 
themselves,  with  the  address.  I  gave  one  copy  of  it  to  Oxenford,  and 
another  to  Hogarth,  on  the  condition  he  sent  slips  to  the  other  papers. 
Mrs.  Reed,  Mrs.  Lacy,  Mrs.  Warner,  Mrs.  Gill,  and  Mr.  Cooper 
came  in  ;  the  persons  present  were  amused  at  my  kissing  each  of  the 
ladies.  I  sent  for  Mr.  W.  West,  at  his  request  promised  him  my  au- 
tograph, and  gave  him  my  order  of  the  Bath,  worn  in  Lord  Townley. 
When  they  had  gone,  except  Forster,  I  sent  for  Katie,  Willie,  my 


G30  MACREADYS  DIARIES.  1851. 

sisters,  and  Hetta,  who  came  in  to  see  me,  of  course  excited  and  pene- 
trated by  what  they  had  witnessed.  I  gave  Hetta  my  ribbon  of  the 
Bath  for  Marianne.  There  was  a  crowd  waiting  to  see  me  get  into 
my  cab,  and  they  cheered  me,  kind  hearts,  as  I  drove  off. 

27th.  —  Rose  rather  late,  but  with  a  feeling  of  freedom  and  singular 
lightness,  surprised  that  I  had  nothing  exactly  compulsory  to  do. 

Applied  myself  to  speech,  with  which  I  cannot  satisfy  myself;  but 
unfortunately  I  am  always  ambitious  of  doing  anything  up  to  the 
highest  mark.  If  it  were  possible,  well,  but  — 

March  1st.  —  Was  quite  overcome  by  weariness  of  nerve  and  spirit, 
my  strength  seemed  beginning  to  give  way  under  this  unrespited  ex- 
citement. Thought  quite  composedly  over  what  I  should  say,  re- 
solved to  confine  myself  to  my  thanks,  etc.  Dared  not,  with  all  the 
pains  I  had  taken,  venture  on  the  matter  I  had  prepared.  Felt  very 
nervous  and  uncomfortable.  Dressed,  and  with  dear  Willie  went  to 
the  London  Tavern ;  waited  with  Mark  Lemon,  whom  we  found 
there,  till  Dickens  came.  Lemon  and  Willie  then  went  to  the  Hall 
of  Commerce,  and  Dickens  and  myself  after  a  time  followed  them. 
Saw  Bulwer  there,  Quin,  Lord  Clanricarde,  Lord  War.de,  who  asked 
to  be  introduced  to  me.  I  sat  between  Bulwer  and  Bunsen.  The 
hall  was  splendid  in  its  numbers  and  admirable  in  its  arrangement 
The  occurrence  will  be  noticed  in  the  prints.  I  was  delighted  to 
learn,  in  Van  de  Weyer's  speech,  that  George  Sand  had  published  her 
book  (the  "  Chateau  des  Desertes  ")  inscribed  to  me. 

The  list  of  stewards  for  Macready's  farewell  dinner,  most  of  whom 
attended  it,  consisted  of  the  following  names  :  — 

His  EXCELLENCY  M.  VAN  DE  WEYER.  JOHN  KENYON,  ESQ. 

THE  MARQUIS  OF  LANSDOWNE.  THE  HON.  SPENCER  LYTTELTON. 

THE  EARL  OF  FITZHARDINGE.  SIR  EDWIN  LANDSEER,  R.  A. 

THE  HON.  MR.  JUSTICE  TALFOURD.  MARK  LEMON,  ESQ. 

LORD  ERNEST  BRUCE,  M.  P.  D.  M.  MACLISE,  ESQ.,  R.  A. 

CHARLES  BABBAGE,  ESQ.  11.  M.  MILNES,  ESQ.,  M.  P.1 

THE  REV.  W.  H.  BROOKFIELD.  SIR  RODERICK  MURCHISON. 

THE  REV.  W.  G.  COOKESLEY.  RT.  HON.  T.  BABINGTON  MACAULAY.* 

JOHN  PAYNE  COLLIER,  ESQ.  W.  FREDERICK  POLLOCK,  ESQ.* 

HON.  KEPPEL  CRAVEN.  JOSEPH  PAXTON,  ESQ. 

JOHN  T.  DELANE,  ESQ.  BRYAN  WALLER  PROCTER,  ESQ. 

CHARLES  DICKENS,  ESQ.  SAMUEL  PHELPS,  ESQ. 

SIR  CHARLES  LOCK  EASTLAKE,  P.  R.  A.  DOCTOR  QUINN. 

RT.  HON.  C.  T.  D'EYNCOUHT,  M.  P.  DAVID  ROBERTS,  ESQ.,  R.  A. 

W.  J.  Fox,  ESQ.,  M.  P.  SAMUEL  ROGERS,  ESQ. 

JOHN  FORSTER,  ESQ.  E.  P.  DELME  RADCLIFFE,  ESQ. 

SIR  ALEXANDER  DUFF  GORDON,  BART.  CLARKSON  STANFIELD,  ESQ.,  R.  A. 

JOHN  HEYWOOD,  ESQ.,  M.  P.  AUGUSTUS  STAFFORD,  ESQ.,  M.  P. 

PHILIP  HENRY  HOWARD  ESQ.,  M.  P.  ALFRED  TENNYSON,  ESQ. 

THE  REV.  WILLIAM  HARNESS.  W.  M.  THACKERAY,  ESQ. 

S.  C.  HALL,  ESQ.  THE  REV.  JAMES  WHITE. 

DOUGLAS  JERROLD,  ESQ.  LIEUT..GEN.  SIR  JOHN  WILSON. 

A.  W.  KINGLAKE,  ESQ.  BENJAMIN  WEBSTER,  ESQ. 

CHARLES  KNIGHT,  ESQ.  ELIOT  WARBURTON,  ESQ. 

CHARLES  KEMBLE,  ESQ.  CHARLES  YOUNG,  ESQ. 

1  Now  Lord  Houghton.  2  Afterwards  Lord  Macaulaj. 

8  Now  Sir  Frederick  Pollock. 


1851.  FAREWELL  DINNER.  631 

The  card  of  admission  bore  a  fac-simile  of  the  well-known  signature 
of  Charles  Dickens  (in  its  largest  size),  who  undertook  the  manage- 
ment of  the  dinner.  Upwards  of  six  hundred  tickets  were  issued,  and 
the  accommodation  of  the  London  Tavern  proving  insufficient  for  so 
large  a  number  of  guests,  the  actual  scene  of  the  banquet  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  neighboring  Hall  of  Commerce. 

The  dinner  took  place  under  the  presidency  of  Sir  E.  L.  Bulwer ; 
but  a  previous  request  had  been  made  by  him  to  His  Royal  Highness 
the  Prince  Consort,  that  he  would  be  pleased  to  take  the  Chair  on  the 
occasion  ;  a  most  gracious  and  considerate  reply  was  returned  to  this 
application  through  the  usual  official  channel  of  communication  in  the 
Royal  Household,  to  the  effect  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  His 
Royal  Highness  to  take  the  Chair  at  a  dinner  of  personal  compliment 
to  an  individual,  however  eminent  aud  excellent ;  pointing  out  that 
His  Royal  Highness  had  never  appeared  in  public  on  such  occasions, 
except  in  the  advocacy  of  institutions  of  great  and  general  public  im- 
portance ;  but  adding  that,  in  the  actual  instance,  'Sir  E.  L.  Buhver's 
commendations  of  Mr.  Macready  were  entirely  appreciated,  as  well  as 
the  efforts  made  by  him  for  the  purification  and  elevation  of  the  stage. 

Among  those  present  at  the  dinner  whose  names  do  not  appear  in 
the  list  of  stewards,  were  the  Marquis  of  Clanricarde,  Lord  Dufferin, 
Lord  William  Graham,  Sir  G.  Back,  Mr.  C.  Leslie,  R.  A.,  Mr.  S. 
Hart,  R.  A.,  Mr.  Kenneth  Macaulay,  Q.  C.,  Mr.  A.  Fonblanque,  Mr. 
J.  Cattermole,  Sir  E.  Ryan,  Sergeant  Adams,  Mr.  R.  S.  Rintoul,  Mr. 
C.  J.  Herries,  Mr.  P.  Cunningham,  Mr.  J.  II.  Parry,1  Mr.  G.  Ben- 
tinck,  Mr.  J.  Wallack,  Mr.  F.  Stone,  Mr.  H.  Colburn,  Dr.  Mackay, 
Mr.  Tom  Taylor,  Mr.  John  Leech,  Mr.  T.  Chitty,  Mr.  W.  Boxall,2 
Mr.  Willmott,  Mr.  Bradbury,  Mr.  Evans,  Mr.  Mitchell,  Mr.  Frith, 
A.  R.  A.,  Mr.  Egg,  A.  R.  A.,  Mr.  Ward,  A.  R.  A.,  Mr.  Oxenford,  Mr. 
Raymond,  Mr.  H.  P.  Smith,  Mr.  Zouch  Troughton,  Mr.  Colnaghi,  Dr. 
Winslow,  Mr.  Lowne,  Mr.  Gruneisen,  Mr.  Dudley  Costello.  The  fol- 
lowing account  of  the  speeches  appeared  in  "  The  Times,"  and  pro- 
ceeding as  they  did  from  so  many  distinguished  persons,  and  embody- 
ing as  they  do  so  much  valuable  criticism  upon  and  illustration  of 
Macready's  career,  they  are  given  without  abridgment : 

The  Chairman  gave  the  healths  of  the  Queen,  Prince  Albert,  and 
the  Royal  Family,  which  were  received  with  the  usual  demonstrations 
of  loyalty. 

The  Chairman,  in  proposing  the  toast  of  "  The  Army  and  Navy," 
observed  that  the  drama  was  under  very  great  obligation  to  the  army, 
three  of  our  great  dramatical  writers  having  been  connected  with  that 
profession.  Ben  Jonson  served  with  the  army  in  Flanders  ;  Steele, 
the  father  of  our  serious  comedy,  had  been  a  trooper  in  the  Guards  ; 
and  Farquhar  owed  many  of  his  happiest  recollections  to  the  time 
when  he  was  a  lieutenant  under  Lord  Orrery.  (Cheers.)  He  did  not 
remember  that  the  navy  had,  in  former  times,  contributed  its  quota  to 
our  dramatic  literature,  but  one  of  the  most  brilliant  wits  of  the  pres- 

1  Now  Sergeant  Parry.  2  Now  Sir  William  Boxall,  R.  A. 


632  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1851. 

ent  day,  who  had  given  to  the  stage  some  of  the  most  sparkling  and 
enduring  of  English  dramas  —  he  meant  Mr.  Douglas  Jerrold  —  had 
been  connected  with  the  navy.  (Hear,  hear.)  For  the  rest,  one  thing 
was  perfectly  certain — that  had  it  not  been  for  the  navy,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  army,  our  play-loving  neighbors,  the  French,  might  have 
made  England  itself  the  subject  of  a  very  disagreeable  tragedy. 
(Laughter.) 

The  toast  was  briefly  acknowledged  by  Lieutenant- General  Sir  J. 
Wilson  on  behalf  of  the  army,  and  by  Capt.  Sir  G.  Back  for  the 
navy. 

The  Chairman  then  rose,  and  said,  —  Gentlemen,  when  I  glance 
through  this  vast  hall,  and  feel  how  weak  and  indistinct  is  my  voice,  I 
feel  that  I  must  frankly  throw  myself  on  your  indulgence,  and  intreat 
your  most  patient  and  courteous  attention  while  I  approach  that  sub- 
ject which  unites  to-day  an  assembly  so  remarkable  for  the  numbers 
and  distinction  of  those  who  compose  it.  We  are  met  to  do  honor  to 
an  eminent  man,  who  retires  into  private  life  after  those  services  to  the 
public  which  are  always  most  felt  at  the  moment  we  are  about  to  lose 
them.  (Hear,  hear.)  There  are  many  among  you  far  better  qualified 
than  I  am  to  speak  critically  of  the  merits  of  Mr.  Macready  as  an 
actor ;  but  placed  as  I  am  in  this  chair,  I  feel  that  I  should  justly  dis- 
appoint you  if  I  did  not  seek  to  give  some  utterance  to  those  senti- 
ments of  admiration  of  which  you  have  made  me  the  representative. 
Gentlemen,  this  morning  I  read  in  one  of  the  literary  journals  some 
qualifying  remarks  as  to  the  degree  of  Mr.  Macready's  genius  ;  and 
now,  as  I  recognize  here  many  who  are. devoted  to  literature  and  art, 
I  will  ask  them  if  I  am  not  right  in  this  doctrine  —  that  the  true  meas- 
ure of  the  genius  of  an  artist  is  the  degree  of  excellence  to  which  he 
brings  the  art  that  he  cultivates.  (Hear,  hear.)  Judge  of  Mr.  Ma- 
cready by  this  test,  and  how  great  is  that  genius  that  will  delight  us  no 
more  ("  Hear,  hear,"  and  cheers)  ;  for  it  is  because  it  has  so  achieved 
what  I  will  call  the  symmetry  of  art  that  its  height  and  its  breadth  have 
been  often  forgotten.  (Hear,  hear.)  We  know  that  it  is  the  uneven 
and  irregular  surface  that  strikes  us  as  the  largest,  and  the  dimensions 
of  a  genius,  like  those  of  a  building,  are  lost  in  the  justness  of  its  pro- 
portions (applause)  ;  and  therefore  it  is  that  in  recalling  the  surpassing 
excellence  of  our  guest  as  an  artistical  performer  one  is  really  at  a  loss 
to  say  in  what  line  of  character  he  has  excelled  the  most.  (Hear, 
hear.)  The  Titanic  grandeur  'of  Lear,  the  human  debasement  of  Wer- 
ner, the  frank  vivacity  of  Henry  V.,  the  gloomy  and  timorous  guilt  of 
King  John,  or  that  —  his  last  —  personation  of  Macbeth,  in  which  it 
seemed  to  me  that  he  conveyed  a  more  exact  notion  of  what  Shake- 
speare designed  than  I  can  recollect  to  have  read  in  the  most  profound 
of  the  German  critics  ;  for  I  take  it,  what  Shakespeare  meant  to  repre- 
sent in  Macbeth  was  the  kind  of  character  which  is  most  liable  to  be 
influenced  by  a  belief  in  supernatural  agencies  —  a  man  who  is  acutely 
sensitive  to  all  impressions,  who  has  a  restless  imagination  more  power- 
ful than  his  will,  who  sees  daggers  in  the  air  and  ghosts  in  the  banquet- 


1851.  BULWER  LYTTON'S  SPEECH.  633 

hall,  who  has  moral  weakness  and  physical  courage,  and  who  —  as  our 
guest  represented  him  —  alternates  perpetually  between  terror  and 
daring  —  a  trembler  when  opposed  by  his  conscience,  and  a  warrior 
when  defied  by  his  foe.  (Loud  cheering.)  But  in  this,  and  in  all 
that  numberless  crowd  of  characters  which  is  too  fresh  in  your  memories 
for  me  to  enumerate,  we  don't  so  much  say,  "  How  well  this  was 
spoken,"  or  "  How  finely  that  was  acted,"  but  we  feel  within  ourselves 
how  true  was  the  personation  of  the  whole.  ("  Hear,  hear,"  and 
cheers.)  Gentlemen,  there  is  a  word  that  is  often  applied  to  artists 
and  to  authors,  and  I  think  we  always  apply  it  improperly  when  we 
speak  of  a  superior  intellect  —  I  mean  the  word  "versatile."  Now  I 
think  the  proper  word  is  "  comprehensive."  The  man  of  genius  does 
not  vary  and  change,  which  is  the  meaning  of  the  word  versatile,  but 
he  has  a  mind  sufficiently  expanded  to  comprehend  variety  and  change. 
If  I  can  succeed  in  describing  the  circle,  I  can  draw  as  many  lines  as 
I  please  from  the  center  straight  to  the  circumference,  but  it  must  be 
upon  the  condition  —  for  that  is  the  mathematical  law  —  that  all  these 
lines  shall  be  equal  one  to  the  other,  or  it  is  not  a  circle  that  I  describe. 
Now  I  do  not  say  our  guest  is  versatile  ;  I  say  that  he  is  comprehen- 
sive ("  Hear,  hear,"  and  cheers)  ;  and  the  proof  that  he  has  mastered 
the  most  perfect  form  of  the  comprehensive  faculty  is  this  —  that  all 
the  lines  he  has  created  within  the  range  of  his  art  are  equal  the  one 
to  the  other.  (Loud  cheering.)  And  this,  gentlemen,  explains  to 
us  that  originality  which  even  his  detractors  have  conceded  to  him. 
Every  great  actor  has  his  manner,  as  every  great  writer  has  his  style. 
(Hear,  hear.)  But  the  originality  of  our  guest  does  not  consist  in  his 
manner  alone,  but  in  his  singular  depth  of  thought.  (Cheers.)  He 
has  not  only  accomplished  the  obvious  and  essential  graces  of  the  actor 
—  the  look,  the  gesture,  the  intonation,  the  stage  play  —  but  he  has 
placed  his  study  far  deeper.  He  has  sought  to  penetrate  into  the 
subtlest  intentions  of  the  poet,  and  made  poetry  itself  the  golden  key 
to  the  secrets  of  .the  human  heart.  (Cheers.)  He  was  original  be- 
cause he  never  sought  to  be  original,  but  to  be  truthful ;  because,  in  a 
word,  he  was  as  conscientious  in  his  art  as  he  is  in  his  actions.  (Loud 
cheering.)  Gentlemen,  there  is  one  merit  of  our  guest  as  an  actor 
upon  which  if  I  were  silent  I  should  be  indeed  ungrateful.  Many  a 
great  performer  may  attain  to  a  high  reputation  if  he  restrains  his 
talents  to  acting  Shakespeare  and  the  great  writers  of  the  past ;  but 
it  is  perfectly  clear  that  in  so  doing  he'does  not  advance  one  inch  the 
literature  of  his  time.  It  has  been  the  merit  of  our  guest  to  recognize 
the  truth  that  the  actor  has  it  in  his  power  to  assist  in  creating  the 
writer.  (Hear,  hear.)  He  has  identified  himself  with  the  living  drama 
of  his  period,  and  by  so  doing  he  has  half  created  it.  (Cheers.)  Who 
does  not  recollect  the  rough  and  manly  vigor  of  Tell,  the  simple 
grandeur  of  Virginius,  or  the  exquisite  sweetness  and  dignity  and 
pathos  with  which  he  invested  the  self-sacrifice  of  Ion  ?  (Loud  cheer- 
ing.) And  who  does  not  feel  that  but  for  him  these  great  plays  might 
never  have  obtained  their  hold  upon  the  stage,  or  ranked  among  those 


634  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1851. 

masterpieces  which  this  age  will  leave  to  posterity  ?  (Renewed  cheers.) 
And  what  charm  and  what  grace,  not  their  own,  lie  has  given  to  the 
lesser  works  of  an  inferior  writer,  it  is  not  for  me  to  say.  (Loud  and 
continued  cheering.)  But,  gentlemen,  all  this,  in  which  he  has  sought 
to  rally  round  him  the  dramatic  writers  of  his  time,  brings  me  at  once 
from  the  merits  of  the  actor  to  those  of  the  manager. 

I  recall,  gentlemen,  that  brief  but  glorious  time  when  the  drama  of 
England  appeared  suddenly  to  revive  and  to  promise  a  future  that 
should  be  worthy  of  its  past  (hear,  hear)  ;  when,  by  a  union  of  all  kin- 
dred arts,  and  the  exercise  of  a  taste  that  was  at  once  gorgeous  and 
severe,  we  saw  the  genius  of  Shakespeare  properly  embodied  upon  our 
stage,  though  I  maintain  that  the  ornament  was  never  superior  to  the 
work.  Just  remember  the  manner  in  which  the  supernatural  agency 
of  the  weird  sisters  was  made  apparent  to  our  eye,  in  which  the  magic 
isle  of  Prospero  rose  before  us  in  its  mysterious  and  haunted  beauty, 
and  in  which  the  knightly  character  of  the  hero  of  Agincourt  received 
its  true  interpretation  from  the  pomp  of  the  feudal  age,  and  you  will 
own  you  could  not  strip  the  scene  of  these  eifects  without  stripping 
Shakespeare  himself  of  half  the  richness  and  depth  of  his  conceptions. 
(Loud  cheers.)  But  that  was  the  least  merit  of  that  glorious  manage- 
ment. Mr.  Macready  not  only  enriched  the  scene,  but  he  purified  the 
audience  (hear,  hear),  and  for  the  first  time  since  the  reign  of  Charles 
II.  a  father  might  have  taken  his  daughters  to  a  public  theater  with 
as  much  safety  from  all  that  could  shock  decorum  as  if  he  had  taken 
them  to  the  house  of  a  friend.  (Cries  of  "  Hear,  hear,"  and  cheers.) 
And  for  this  reason  the  late  lamented  Bishop  of  Norwich  made  it  a 
point  to  form  the  personal  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Macready,  that  he 
Anight  thank  him,  as  a  prelate  of  the  Church,  for  the  good  he  had  done 
society.  (Hear,  hear.)  Gentlemen,  I  cannot  recall  that  period  with- 
out a  sharp  pang  of  indignant  regret,  for  if  that  management  had 
lasted  some  ten  or  twelve  years  I  know  that  we  should  have  estab- 
lished a  permanent  school  for  actors,  a  fresh  and  enduring  field  for 
dramatic  poetry  and  wit,  while  we  should  have  educated  an  audience 
up  to  feel  that  dramatic  performances  in  their  highest  point  of  excel- 
lence had  become  an  intellectual  want,  that  could  no  more  be  dis- 
pensed with  than  the  newspaper  or  the  review.  (Loud  cheers.)  And 
all  this  to  be  checked  and  put  back  for  an  age  to  come  !  Why  ?  Be- 
cause the  public  did  not  appreciate  the  experiment  ?  Mr.  Macready 
has  told  us  that  the  public  supported  him  nobly,  and  that  his  houses 
overflowed.  Why  then?  Because  of  the  enormous  rent  and  exactions 
for  a  theater  which,  even  in  the  most  prosperous  seasons,  made  the 
exact  difference  between  profit  and  loss.  (Hear,  hear.)  Gentlemen, 
it  is  not  now  the  occasion  to  speak  of  remedies  for  that  state  of  things. 
Remedies  there  are,  but  they  are  for  legislation  to  effect.  They  in- 
volve considerations  with  regard  to  those  patents  which  are  secured  to 
certain  houses  for  the  purpose  of  maintaining  in  this  metropolis  the 
legitimate  drama,  and  which  I  fear  have  proved  the  main  obstacle  to 
its  success.  (Hear,  hear.)  But  these  recollections  belong  to  the  past. 


1851.  BULWER  LYTTON'S  SPEECH.  635 

The  actor  —  the  manager  —  are  no  more.  Whom  have  we  with  us 
to-day  ?  Something  grander  than  actor  or  manager ;  to-day  we  have 
with  us  the  man.  (A  loud  and  prolonged  burst  of  cheering.)  Gen- 
tlemen, to  speak  of  those  virtues  which  adorn  a  home,  and  are  only 
known  in  secret,  has  always  appeared  to  me  to  be  out  of  place  upon 
public  occasions  ;  but  there  are  some  virtues  which  cannot  be  called 
private,  which  accompany  a  man  everywhere,  which  are  the  essential 
part  of  his  public  character,  and  of  these  it  becomes  us  to  speak,  for  it 
is  to  these  that  we  are  met  to  do  homage.  I  mean  integrity,  devotion 
to  pure  ends,  and  a  high  ambition,  manly  independence,  and  honor  that 
never  knew  a  stain.  (Loud  and  general  cheers.)  Why  should  we 
disguise  from  ourselves  that  there  are  great  prejudices  to  the  profession 
of  an  actor  ?  Who  does  not  know  that  our  noble  guest  has  lived  down 
every  one  such  prejudice,  not  falling  into  the  old  weakness  of  the 
actor,  and  for  which  Garrick  could  not  escape  the  sarcasm  of  Johnson, 
of  hankering  after  the  society  and  patronage  of  the  great  ?  (Hear, 
hear.)  The  great  may  have  sought  in  him  the  accomplished  gentle- 
man, but  he  has  never  stooped  his  bold  front  as  an  Englishman  to 
court  any  patronage  meaner  than  the  public,  or  to  sue  for  the  smiles 
with  which  fashion  humiliates  the  genius  it  condesends  to  natter. 
(Great  cheering.)  And  therefore  it  is  that  he  has  so  lifted  up  that  pro- 
fession to  which  he  belongs  into  its  proper  rank  amid  the  liberal  arts ; 
and  therefore  it  is  that  in  glancing  over  the  list  of  our  stewards  we  find 
every  element  of  that  aristocracy  upon  which  he  has  never  fawned 
unites  to  render  him  its  tribute  of  respect.  (Loud  cheers.)  The 
Ministers  of  foreign  nations  —  men  among  the  noblest  of  the  peers  of 
England  —  veterans  of  those  professions  of  which  honor  is  the  life- 
spring —  the  chiefs  of  literature  and  science  and  art  —  ministers  of 
the  Church,  sensible  of  the  benefits  he  has  bestowed  upon  society  in 
banishing  from  the  stage  what  had  drawn  upon  it  the  censure  of  the 
pulpit  —  all  are  here,  and  all  unite  to  enforce  the  truth,  the  great  truth, 
which  he  leaves  to  those  who  come  after  him  —  that  let  a  man  but  honor 
his  calling,  and  the  calling  will  soon  be  the  honor  of  the  man.  (Loud 
and  prolonged  cheering.) 

Gentlemen,  I  cannot  better  sum  up  all  I  would  say  than  by  the 
words  which  the  Roman  orator  applied  to  the  actor  of  his  day  ;  and  I 
ask  you  if  I  may  not  say  of  our  guest  as  Cicero  said  of  Roscius  —  "  He 
is  a  man  who  unites  yet  more  of  virtues  than  of  talents,  yet  more  of 
truth  than  of  art,  and  who,  having  dignified  the  scene  by  the  various 
portraitures  of  human  life,  dignifies  yet  more  this  assembly  by  the  ex- 
ample of  his  own."  (Great  applause.)  Gentlemen,  the  toast  I  am 
about  to  propose  to  you  is  connected  with  many  sad  associations,  but 
not  to-day.  Later  and  long  will  be  cherished  whatever  may  be  sad  of 
those  mingled  feelings  that  accompany  this  farewell  —  later,  when 
night  after  night  we  shall  miss  from  the  play-bill  the  old  familiar  name, 
and  feel  that  one  source  of  elevated  delight  is  lost  to  us  forever. 
(Hear,  hear.)  To-day  let  us  only  rejoice  that  he  whom  we  so  prize 
and  admire  is  no  worn-out  veteran  retiring  to  a  rest  he  can  no  longer 


G36  MACREADY  S  DIARIES.  1851. 

enjoy  (cheers)  —  that  he  leaves  us  in  the  prime  of  his  powers,  with 
many  years  to  come,  in  the  course  of  nature,  of  that  dignified  leisure 
for  which  every  public  man  must  have  sighed  in  the  midst  of  his  tri- 
umphs ;  and  though  we  cannot  say  of  him  that  his 

"  way  of  life 
Is  fall'n  into  the  sere,  the  yellow  leaf," 

yet  we  can  say  that  he  has  prematurely  obtained 

"  that  which  should  accompany  old  ape, 
As  honor,  love,  obedience,  troops  of  friends." 

(cheers)  ;  and  postponing  for  this  night  all  selfish  regrets,  not  thinking 
of  the  darkness  that  is  to  follow,  but  of  the  brightness  of  the  sun  that 
is  to  set,  I  call  upon  you  to  drink,  with  full  glasses  and  full  hearts, 
"  Health,  happiness,  and  long  life  to  William  Macready." 

The  toast  was  drunk  by  the  company  upstanding,  and  was  followed 
by  rapturous  cheers,  which  were  renewed  and  continued  for  some 
moments. 

Mr.  Macready,  on  rising,  was  received  with  a  fresh  outburst  of 
cheering  and  the  waving  of  handkerchiefs.  He  said,  —  I  rise  to  thank 
you,  I  should  say  to  attempt  to  thank  you,  for  I  feel  the  task  is  far  be- 
yond my  power.  What  can  I  say  in  reply  to  all  that  the  kindly  feel- 
ing of  my  friend  has  dictated  ?  I  have  not  the  skill  to  arrange  and 
dress  in  attractive  language  the  thoughts  that  press  upon  me,  and  my 
incompetency  may  perhaps  appear  like  a  want  of  sensibility  to  your 
kindness,  for  we  are  taught  to  believe  that  out  of  the  heart's  fullness 
the  mouth  speaks.  But  my  difficulty,  let  me  .assure  you,  is  a  contra- 
diction to  this  moral.  (Cheers.)  I  have  to  thank  my  friend,  your 
distinguished  chairman,  for  proposing  my  health  to  you,  and  for  the 
eloquence  —  may  I  not  add  the  brilliant  fancy  ?  —  with  which  he  has 
enriched  and  graced  his  subject.  But  that  we  may  readily  expect 
from  him  who  in  the  wide  and  discursive  range  of  his  genius  touches 
nothing  that  he  does  not  adorn.  ("  Hear,"  and  cheers.)  I  have  to 
thank  you  for  the  cordiality  and  —  if  I  may  without  presumption  say 
so  —  the  enthusiasm  with  which  the  compliment  proposed  has  been 
received,  and  for  the  honor  —  never  to  be  forgotten  —  that  you  have 
conferred  on  me  by  making  me  your  guest  to-day.  Never  before 
have  I  been  so  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  my  deficiency  as  at  this  mo- 
ment, looking  on  this  assemblage  of  sympathizing  friends,  crowded 
herti  to  offer  me  the  spontaneous  testimony  of  their  regard.  I  observe 
among  you  many  who  for  years  have  been  the  encouraging  companions 
of  my  course  ;  and  there  are  present,  too,  those  who  have  cheered  even 
my  earliest  efforts.  To  all  who  have  united  in  this  crowning  tribute, 
so  far  beyond  my  dues  or  expectations  —  to  my  old  friends,  the 
friends  of  many  years,  who  welcomed  me  with  hopeful  greeting  in  the 
morning  of  my  professional  life,  and  to  the  younger  ones  who  now 
gather  round  to  shed  more  brightness  on  my  setting,  I  should  wish 
to  pour  forth  the  abundant  expression  of  my  gratitude.  (Loud  cheer- 
ing.) You  are  not,  I  think,  aware  of  the  full  extent  of  my  obligations 


1851.  MACREADYS  SPEECH.  637 

to  you.  Independent  of  the  substantial  benefits  due  to  a  liberal  ap- 
preciation of  my  exertions,  my  very  position  in  society  is  determined 
by  the  stamp  which  your  approbation  has  set  upon  my  humble  efforts 
(cheers)  ;  and  let  me  unhesitatingly  affirm  that,  without  undervaluing 
the  accident  of  birth  or  titular  distinction,  I  would  not  exchange  the 
grateful  pride  of  your  good  opinion,  which  you  have  given  me  the 
right  to  cherish,  for  any  favor  or  advancement  that  the  more  privileged 
in  station  could  receive.  (Great  cheering.)  I  really  am  too  much 
oppressed,  too  much  overcome  to  attempt  to  detain  you  long  ;  but  with 
the  reflection,  and  under  the  conviction,  that  our  drama,  the  noblest  in 
the  world,  can  never  lose  its  place  from  our  stage  while  the  English 
language  lasts,  I  will  venture  to  express  one  parting  hope  —  that  the 
rising  actors  may  keep  the  loftiest  look,  may  hold  the  most  elevated 
views  of  the  duties  of  their  calling.  ("  Hear,  hear,"  and  cheers.)  I 
would  hope  that  they  will  strive  to  elevate  their  art,  and  also  to  raise 
themselves  above  the  level  of  the  player's  easy  life  to  public  regard 
and  distinction  by  a  faithful  ministry  to  the  genius  of  our  incomparable 
Shakespeare.  (Cheers.)  To  effect  this  creditable  purpose  they  must 
bring  resolute  energy  and  unfaltering  labor  to  their  work  ;  they  must 
be  content  "  to  spurn  delights  and  live  laborious  days  ;  "  they  must  re- 
member that  whate'er  is  excellent  in  art  must  spring  from  labor  and 
endurance. 

"  Deep  the  oak 

Must  sink  in  stubborn  earth  its  roots  obscure 

That  hopes  to  lift  its  branches  to  the  sky." 

(Loud  applause.)  This,  gentlemen,  I  can  assure  you  was  the  doctrine 
of  our  own  Siddons  and  of  the  great  Talma  (hear),  and  this  is  the 
faith  I  have  ever  held  as  one  of  their  humblest  disciples.  Of  my 
direction  of  the  two  patent  theaters,  on  which  my  friend  has  so  kindly 
dilated,  I  wish  to  say  but  little.  The  preamble  of  their  patents  recites, 
as  a  condition  of  their  grant,  that  the  theaters  shall  be  instituted  for 
the  promotion  of  virtue  and  to  be  instructive  to  the  human  race.  I 
think  these  .are  the  words.  I  can  only  say  that  it  was  my  ambition,  to 
the  best  of  my  ability,  to  obey  that  injunction  ("  Hear,  hear,"  and 
cheers)  ;  and,  believing  in  the  principle  that  property  has  its  duties  as 
well  as  its  rights,  I  conceived  that  the  proprietors  should  have  co- 
operated with  me.  (Loud  and  general  cries  of  "  Hear.")  They 
thought  otherwise,  and  I  was  reluctantly  compelled  to  relinquish,  on 
disadvantageous  terms,  my  half-achieved  enterprise.  Others  will  take 
up  this  uncompleted  work,  and  if  inquiry  were  set  on  foot  for  one  best 
qualified  to  undertake  the  task,  I  should  seek  him  in  the  theater  which, 
by  eight  years'  labor  he  has,  from  the  most  degraded  condition,  raised 
high  in  public  estimation,  not  only  as  regards  the  intelligence  and  re- 
spectability of  his  audiences,  but  by  the  learned  and  tasteful  spirit  of 
his  productions.  (Cheers.)  Gentlemen,  I  shall  not  detain  you  longer. 
All  that  I  could  desire,  and  far  more  than  I  ever  could  expect,  you 
have  conferred  upon  me  in  the  honor  you  have  done  me  to-day.  It 
will  be  a  memory  that  must  remain  as  an  actual  possession  to  me  and 


638  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1851. 

mine  which  nothing  in  life  can  take  from  us.  The  repetition  of  thanks 
adds  little  to  their  force,  and  therefore,  deeply  as  I  am  already  obliged 
to  you,  I  must  draw  still  further  on  your  indulgence.  You  have  had 
faith  in  my  zeal  for  your  service  ;  you  will,  I  am  sure,  continue  that 
faith  in  my  gratitude  for  the  value  you  have  set  upon  it.  With  a 
heart  more  full  than  the  glass  I  hold,  I  return  you  my  most  grateful 
thanks,  and  have  the  honor  of  drinking  all  your  healths. 

[Mr.  Macready,  who  had  displayed  considerable  emotion  during 
some  portions  of  his  address,  then  resumed  his  seat  amid  most  enthu- 
siastic cheering.] 

Mr.  C.  Dickens,  in  proposing  the  next  toast,  said  it  appeared  to 
him  that  there  were  three  great  requisites  essential  to  the  realization 
of  a  scene  so  unusual  and  so  splendid  as  that  which  they  then  wit- 
nessed. The  first,  and  he  must  say  that  very  difficult,  requisite,  was 
a  man  possessing  that  strong  hold  on  the  general  remembrance,  that 
indisputable  claim  on  the  general  regard  and  esteem,  which  was  pos- 
sessed by  his  dear  and  much  valued  friend  their  guest.  (Cheers.) 
The  second  requisite  was  the  presence  of  a  body  of  entertainers  —  a 
great  multitude  of  hosts  —  as  cheerful  and  good-humored,  under  some 
personal  inconveniences  (cries  of  "  No,  no,"  and  a  laugh),  as  warm- 
hearted and  as  nobly  in  earnest  as  those  whom  he  had  the  privilege 
then  to  address.  The  third,  and  certainly  not  the  least  of  those 
requisites,  was  a  president  who,  less  by  his  social  position  —  which 
might  come  by  inheritance,  or  by  his  fortune,  which  might  be  adven- 
titiously won  or  accidentally  lost  (a  laugh)  —  than  by  his  comprehen- 
sive genius,  might  fitly  represent  at  once  the  best  part  of  that  to 
which  honor  was  done,  and  the  best  part  of  those  who  united  in  the 
doing  of  it.  (Cheers.)  Such  a  president  he  thought  they  had  found 
in  their  Chairman  of  to-night  (loud  cheers),  and  it  was  their  Chair- 
man's health  that  he  had  to  propose.  (Renewed  cheers.)  Many  of 
those  who  heard  him  were  no  doubt  present  at  the  memorable  scene 
on  Wednesday  night,  when  that  great  vision  which  had  been  a  delight 
and  a  lesson  —  very  often,  he  dared  say,  a  support  and  a  comfort  — 
to  them,  which  had  for  many  years,  improved  and  charmed  them,  and 
to  which  they  had  looked  for  an  elevated  relief  from  the  labors  of 
their  lives,  faded  from  their  sight  for  ever.  (Cheers.)  He  would  not 
stop  to  inquire  whether  their  guest  might  or  might  not  have  looked 
forward,  through  rather  too  long  a  period  for  them,  to  some  remote 
and  distant  time  when  he  might  possibly  bear  some  far-off  likeness  to 
a  certain  Spanish  Archbishop  whom  Gil  Bias  once  served.  (Laugh- 
ter.) Nor  would  he  stop  to  inquire  whether  it  was  a  reasonable  dis- 
position in  the  audience  of  Wednesday  to  seize  upon  the  words  — 

"  And  I  have  botifrht 
Golden  opinions  from  all  sorts  of  people, 
Which  would  be  worn  now  in  their  newest  gloss, 
Not  cast  aside  so  soon  "  — 

but  he  would  venture  to  intimate  to  those  whom  he  addressed  how  in 


18!  5.  DICKENS' S  SPEECH.  639 

his  own  mind  he  mainly  connected  that  occasion  with  the  present. 
When  he  looked  round  on  the  vast  assemblage  of  Wednesday,  and 
observed  the  huge  pit  hushed  into  stillness  on  the  rising  of  the  cur- 
tain, and  when  he  saw  the  misty,  surging  gallery  —  where  men  in 
their  shirtsleeves  •  were  at  first  striking  out  their  arms  like  strong 
swimmers  (laughter)  —  become  still  water  in  a  moment,  and  remain 
so  through  the  play,  it  suggested  to  him  something  besides  the  trust- 
worthiness of  an  English  crowd,  and  the  delusion  under  which  those 
persons  labored  who  disparaged  and  maligned  such  an  assembly.  It 
suggested  to  him  that  in  meeting  here  to-night  they  undertook  to 
represent  something  of  the  all-pervading  feeling  of  that  crowd  through 
all  its  intermediate  degrees,  from  the  full-dressed  lady  with  sparkling 
diamonds  in  the  proscenium  box  to  the  half-undressed  gentleman 
(great  laughter)  who  was  biding  his  time  for  taking  some  refreshment 
in  the  back  row  of  the  gallery.  (Renewed  laughter.)  He  considered 
that  no  one  whom  they  could  possibly  place  in  the  chair  could  so  well 
head  that  comprehensive  representation,  and  could  so  well  give  a 
crowning  grace  to  their  festivities,  as  one  whose  comprehensive  genius 
had  in  his  various  works  embraced  them  all  (hear,  hear),  and  who  had 
in  his  dramatic  genius  enchanted  and  enthralled  them  all  at  once. 
(Cheers.)  It  was  not  for  him  to  recall  on  that  occasion  what  he  had 
seen  and  known  in  the  bygone  times  of  Mr.  Macready's  management, 
of  the  steady  friendship  of  Sir  Bulwer  Lytton  for  their  guest,  of  the 
association  of  his  pen  with  the  earliest  successes  of  those  days,  or  of 
his  zealous  and  untiring  services  ;  but  he  might  be  permitted  to  say 
—  what  indeed  in  any  public  mention  of  Sir  Bulwer  Lytton  he  could 
never  repress  —  that  in  the  path  they  both  trod  he  had  uniformly 
found  him  from  the  first  the  most  generous  of  men  (cheers),  quick  to 
encourage,  slow  to  disparage  (hear,  hear),  ever  anxious  to  assert  the 
order  of  which  he  was  so  bright  an  ornament,  and  never  condescend- 
ing to  shuffle  it  off  and  leave  it  outside  state-rooms  as  a  Mussulman 
might  leave  his  slippers  outside  a  mosque.  (Laughter.)  There  was 
a  popular  prejudice,  a  kind  of  superstition  to  the  effect  that  authors 
were  not  a  particularly  united  body  (a  laugh),  and  were  not  devotedly 
and  inseparably  attached  to  one  another.  (Laughter.)  He  (Mr. 
Dickens)  was  afraid  he  must  concede  just  a  grain  or  so  of  truth  to 
that  superstition  ;  but  this  he  knew  —  that  there  hardly  could  be,  or 
could  have  been  among  the  followers  of  literature,  a  man  higher 
above  those  little  grudges  and  jealousies  which  sometimes  disfigured 
its  brightness  for  a  moment  than  Sir  Edward  Bulwer  Lytton.  (Hear, 
hear.)  He  had  the  very  strongest  reasons  at  this  time  to  bear  his 
testimony  to  Sir  Bulwer  Lytton's  great  consideration  for  evils  which 
were  sometimes  attendant  upon  literature,  though  not  upon  him  ;  for, 
in  conjunction  with  some  others  who  were  present,  he  (Mr.  Dickens) 
had  just  embarked  with  their  chairman  in  a  design  for  smoothing  the 
rugged  way  of  young  laborers  both  in  literature  and  the  fine  arts,  and 
for  cheering,  but  by  no  eleemosynary  means,  the  declining  years  of 
meritorious  age.  (Cheers.)  If  that  project  prospered,  as  he  believed 


610  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  •     1851. 

it  would,  and  as  he  knew  it  ought  to  do,  it  would  be  an  honor  to  Eng- 
land where  there  was  now  a  reproach  upon  her,  and  it  would  have 
originated  in  the  sympathy  and  consideration  of  their  chairman,  hav- 
ing been  first  brought  into  practical  operation  by  the  unstinted  gift  of 
his  intellect  and  labor,  and  endowed  from  its  very  cradle  by  his  mu- 
nificent generosity.  (Cheers.)  There  were  many  among  them  who 
would  no  doubt  have  each  his  own  favorite  reason  for  drinking  their 
chairman's  health  with  acclamation,  resting  his  claim  probably  upon 
some  one  of  his  diversified  successes.  According  to  the  nature  of 
their  reading,  some  of  them  might  the  more  naturally  connect  him 
with  prose  —  others  with  poetry ;  one  might  associate  him  with  com- 
edy —  another  with  the  romantic  passions  of  the  stage,  and  his  asser- 
tion of  worthy  ambition  and  earnest  struggles  against  those  twin  gaol- 
ers of  the  human  heart  —  low  birth  and  iron  fortune.  The  taste  of 
one  might  lead  him  to  contemplate  Rienzi  and  the  streets  of  Rome  ; 
another's,  the  rebuilt  and  repeopled  ruins  of  Pompeii ;  another's,  the 
touching  history  of  the  fireside  where  the  Caxton  family  —  so  far  a 
picture  to  them  all  —  learnt  how  to  discipline  their  natures  and  to 
tame  their  wild  hopes  down.  (Loud  cheers.)  But  however  various 
those  feelings  and  reasons  might  be,  sure  he  was  that  with  one  accord 
all  would  swell  the  greeting  with  which  they  would  receive  "  The 
health  of  Sir  E.  Bulwer  Lytton." 

The  toast  was  drunk  with  loud  cheering,  and  was  briefly  acknowl- 
edged by  the  chairman,  who  observed  'that  the  compliment  was  the 
more  gratifying  to  him  as  it  proceeded  from  an  assemblage  comprising 
so  many  of  his  own  fellow-laborers. 

M.  Van  de  Weyer,  in  proposing  "  The  Artists,  and  Sir  Charles 
Eastlake,"  said  he  was  grateful  to  the  chairman  for  having  intrusted 
this  duty  to  him;  because  he  considered  that  a  compliment  was  thus 
paid  to  the  country  he  represented  —  a  country  upon  which  the  culti- 
vation of  art  had  thrown  an  immortal  luster,  and  which,  since  the  res- 
toration of  its  independence,  had  witnessed  with  just  national  pride  the 
glorious  revival  of  its  ancient  school.  (Cheers.)  He  might  observe 
that  the  genius  of  that  great  dramatic  artist  to  whom  they  had  assem- 
bled to  pay  their  tribute  of  admiration  had  recently  received  a  just 
homage  from  the  greatest  living  French  prose  writer,  George  Sand, 
who  had  placed  —  to  use  her  own  expression  —  under  the  protection 
of  his  great  name  and  of  his  friendship,  her  own  views  upon  dramatic 
art.  It  must  be  to  them,  as  it  was  to  him,  a  source  of  extreme  gratifi- 
cation to  see  in  that  assembly  the  most  eminent  representatives  of  art 
in  all  its  various  branches.  They  knew  how  all  the  arts  were  linked 
together,  and  when  dramatic  poetry  was  united  with  painting,  sculpt- 
ure, architecture,  and  music,  it  offered  to  man  the  most  ennobling 
pleasure  his  mind  could  enjoy.  (Hear,  hear.)  He  might  be  allowed 
to  make  one  incidental  remark  on  this  subject.  No  foreigner  could 
visit  the  English  theaters  without  being  struck  with  the  extraordinary 
talent,  the  real  genius,  the  richness  of  imagination,  the  picturesqueness 
of  the  coloring,  and  the  beauty  of  the  architecture  displayed  by  the 


1851.  VAN  DE  WEYER  — EASTLAKE  — FORSTER.  C41 

artist  in  scenic  decorations  —  the  last  of  which  qualities  he  must  say 
he  had  often  wished  to  see  transferred  from  the  stage  to  the  streets  of 
that  metropolis  (laughter  and  cheers),  where  there  were  certainly  some 
architectural  enormities,  which  weighed  as  heavily  upon  the  soil  as  no 
doubt  they  did  upon  the  consciences  of  the  mistaken  artists  who  per- 
petrated them.  (Great  laughter.)  He  had,  since  he  had  been  in 
England,  heard  many  doleful  lamentations  on  the  decay  of  British  art, 
but  he  was  not  one  of  those  who  shared  in  that  feeling.  Was  there, 
he  asked,  any  school  of  painting  which,  in  less  than  a  century  of  ex- 
istence, had  produced  so  many  eminent  artists  as  the  English  ?  Among 
the  dead  they  had  Hogarth,  Reynolds,  Gainsborough,  Wilkie,  and 
many  others.  Among  the  living  they  had  Eastlake,  with  his  brilliant 
coloring  and  exquisite  taste ;  Landseer,  whose  pictures  were  poems 
(cheers) ;  Maclise,  whose  translations  from  Shakespeare  were  in  the 
memory  of'  all ;  Stanfield,  whose  pictures  were  full  of  life  and  fresh- 
ness ;  Leslie,  the  worthy  interpreter  of  Cervantes,  of  Sterne,  and  of 
Goldsmith ;  and  Turner,  whose  genius  had  inspired  the  pages  of  the 
most  eloquent  moral  and  religious  book  ever  published  in  this  or  any 
other  age.  (Cheers.)  He  thought,  then,  it  would  be  seen  that  there 
were  talent  and  genius  in  the  English  school  equal  to  the  greatest  re- 
quirements of  art. 

Sir  C.  Eastlake,  in  acknowledging  the  toast,  expressed  his  concur- 
rence in  the  recommendation  of  his  Excellency  that  the  architectural 
scenery  sometimes  exhibited  on  the  stage  should  be  imitated  in  the 
streets  of  the  metropolis.  (Cheers  and  laughter.)  He  bore  his  testi- 
mony to  the  admiration  he  had  uniformly  heard  expressed  by  the 
artists  of  this  country  of  the  judicious  representations  which  Mr.  Ma- 
cready  had  promoted. 

Mr.  John  Forster,  in  proposing  the  next  toast,  "  Dramatic  Litera- 
ture," observed  that  it  was  peculiarly  the  glory  of  Mr  Macready's 
career  that  his  name  was  equally  allied  with  present  and  past  dramatic 
literature,  and  that  it  would  hereafter  be  associated  with  a  long  line  of 
original  poetic  creations  which  first  derived  form  from  the  inspiration 
of  his  art.  After  referring  to  the  connection  of  Mr.  Macready,  as  an 
actor,  with  the  dramas  of  Lord  Byron,  Sir  Bulwer  Lytton,  Mr. 
Knowles,  Mr.  Justice  Talfourd  (whose  judicial  duties  prevented  him 
from  attending),  Mr.  Procter,  the  Rev.  Mr.  White,  Mr.  Sheil,  Miss 
Mitford,  Douglas  Jerrold,  and  others,  Mr.  Forster  stated  that  his  friend 
the  Poet  Laureate,  Alfred  Tennyson,  had  intrusted  him  with  a  few 
lines  of  poetry  addressed  to  their  distinguished  guest,  which  with  the 
permission  of  the  assembly  he  would  read.  (Loud  cries  of  "  Read, 
read.")  Mr.  Forster  proceeded  to  read  the  following  lines,  which  were 
received  with  much  applause  : 

Farewell,  Macready,  since  to-night  we  part  ; 
Full-handed  thunders  often  have  confessed 
Thy  power,  well-used  to  move  the  public  breast. 

We  thank  thee  with  our  voice,  and  from  the  heart. 

Farewell,  Macready,  since  this  ni^ht  we  part ; 
Go,  take  thine  honors  home ;  rank  with  the  best, 
»  41 


642  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1851. 

fiiir.ick  and  statelier  Kemble,  and  the  rest 
Who  made  a  niUion  purer  through  their  Arc. 
Thine  is  it  that  our  drama  did  not  die, 

Nor  flicker  down  to  brainless  pantomime. 

And  those  gilt  gauds  men-children  swarm  to  see. 
Farewell,  Macready  ;  moral,  grave,  sublime ; 
Our  Shakespeare's  bland  and  universal  eye 

Dwells  pleased,  through  twice  a  hundred  years,  on  thee. 

The  Chairman  said,  they  were  honored  by  the  presence  of  the  rep- 
resentative of  a  country  to  which  they  were  indebted  for  the  profound- 
est  analytical  criticisms  of  Shakespeare  —  he  alluded  to  the  Prussian 
Minister  Chevalier  Bunsen  (cheers)  :  and  he  begged  to  propose,  "  The 
German  exponents  of  Shakespeare,"  in  connection  with  that  distin- 
guished individual. 

Chevalier  Bunsen  responded  to  the  toast  in  the  following  words : 
Much  as  I  must  wish  that  there  was  present  on  this  occasion  one  of 
the  surviving  heroes  of  our  literature,  to  whom  Germany  owes  the 
distinguished  honor  which  has  been  done  to  her  dramatic  writers  and 
critics,  I  am  free  to  confess  that  I  am  proud  it  has  fallen  to  my  lot  to 
be,  on  such  an  occurrence,  the  feeble,  but  sincere,  interpreter  of  our 
national  feelings.  Sir,  that  honor  is  great  and  precious,  coming  as  it 
does  from  such  a  man,  addressing  such  an  assembly,  and  on  such  an 
occasion.  Gentlemen,  the  modern  literature  of  Germany  was  .nur- 
tured by  the  English  muse,  and  the  genius  of  William  Shakespeare 
watched  over  her  cradle.  He  is  not  a  true  German  who  does  not 
gratefully  acknowledge  that  fact.  (Cheers.)  When,  after  one  cent- 
ury of  bloody  internal  wars,  and  another  of  benumbment,  about 
eighty  years  ago  the  national  spirit  of  Germany  had  gathered  strength 
to  look  around,  he  found  himself  in  the  fetters  of  the  most  conven- 
tional poetry  and  taste  which  ever  has  weighed  upon  poor  humanity 
since  the  days  of  China  and  Byzance  —  oratorical  prose  in  rhyme, 
rhetoric  screwed  up  to  poetry,  civilized  galvanism  mistaken  for  the 
rhythm  of  organic  life.  It  was  under  such  circumstances  that  the  first 
of  our  intellectual  giants,  Lessing,  arose,  and  in  pure  classical  German 
proved  that  our  models  must  be  looked  for  somewhere  else,  and  par- 
ticularly in  the  dramatic  art.  Lessing  pointed  to  two  great  constella- 
tions —  the  Athenian  Theater  and  William  Shakespeare.  He  did 
•more  —  he  united  with  a  great  and  genial  actor,  Schroder,  at  Ham- 
burgh, to  give  Germany  a  national  theater  fashioned  after  those  modd>. 
When  one  decade  later  the  immortal  author  of  our  greatest  national 
drama  —  of  Faust  —  when  the  bright  star  of  Goethe  rose  on  the 
horizon,  his  dramatic  creed  was  the  same :  JEschylus  and  Sophocles 
and  William  Shakespeare  forever!  (Cheers.) 

Again,  when  a  few  decades  later,  towards  the  beginning  of  this  cent- 
ury, that  noble  pair  of  brothers,  Frederick  and  William  Schlegel, 
began  to  apply  the  united  force  of  genius,  philosophy,  and  poetry  to 
the  creation  of  a  comprehensive  system  of  poetical  and  artistic  criti- 
cism, considering  all  real  and  lasting  productions  of  art,  not  as  an  acci- 
dental kaleidoscopic  variety  of  forms,  but  as  a  link  in  the  chain  of  the 


1851.  BUNSEN'S  SPEECH.  643 

development  of  mind  ;  and  when  their  common  friend,  Ludwig  Tick, 
opened  his  delightful,  both  creative  and  critical,  vein,  for  the  same  ob- 
ject, who  was  the  hero  in  whose  name  and  to  whose  honor  they  broke 
down  the  idols  of  conventional  poetry  and  condemned  to  eternal  obliv- 
ion all  sham  and  unreality  ?  Who  was  the  hero  who  inspired  both 
Goethe  and  Schiller  and  the  followers  of  the  romantic  school  but  Will- 
iam Shakespeare  and  his  theater  ?  This  name  of  Shakespeare,  then, 
was  not  the  fashion  of  an  age ;  it  was  not  the  hue  and  cry  of  a  school 
of  metaphysic  philosophers  or  the  whim  of  critical  poets.  No,  sir,  it 
was  no  more  or  less  than  the  adequate  expression  of  the  deepest  na- 
tional feeling  :  it  was  the  organ  and  echo  of  the  universal  voice  of  love 
and  admiration  with  which  the  Anglo-Saxon  mind,' in  its  native  abode, 
reverently  hailed  the  great  kindred  genius  of  England,  as  the  poetical 
hero  of  the  Germanic  race.  (Cheers.)  It  is,  above  all,  the  instinctive 
love  and  admiration  which  has  made  Shakespeare  the  most  popular 
name,  and  his  dramas  the  most  universally  read  poetical  works  among 
40,000,000  of  Germans.  The  distinguished  editor  of  "  Shakespeare  " 
—  who  in  our  age  has  given  to  England  and  to  the  world  the  genuine 
text  of  that  author  and  carried  out  the  right  principles  of  its  interpre- 
tations —  says  somewhere  most  truly,  "  The  foundation  of  a  right  un- 
derstanding of  Shakespeare  is  love  "  —  reverent  love,  of  course,  as 
every  true  love  is.  Well,  I  think  we  Germans  do  love  Shakespeare, 
and  we  love  him  reverently.  We  do  not  love  him  for  this  or  for  that, 
but  we  love  him  best  for  being  what  he  is.  We  do  not  admire  him  for 
a  happy  simile  here  or  a  striking  observation  there ;  none  of  which, 
beautiful  as  they  may  be  as  part  of  a  whole,  would  make  him,  as  we 
think,  a  poet  —  much  less  the  king  of  all  dramatic  writers  of  the  world. 
We  love,  above  all,  his  grand  poetical  conceptions  and  the  truthful 
manner  in  which  he  does  justice  to  them.  We  see  in  every  piece  of  his 
an  artistic  reproduction  of  those  eternal  laws  which,  in  spite  of  many 
apparent  contradictions,  and  through  all  antagonistic  forces,  regulate 
always  in  the  end  the  national,  and  very  often  the  individual,  destinies 
of  mankind.  To  represent  them  in  action  is  the  divine  privilege  of  the 
dramatic  genius.  This  being  our  conception  of  Shakespeare,  and  this 
the  relation  his  immortal  works  bear  to  our  present  national  literature, 
you  will  think  me  sincere  in  saying,  what  you  praise  us  for  is  nothing 
but  the  deep  acknowledgment  of  our  eternal  obligations  to  your  and 
the  world's  greatest  dramatist  —  the  voice  of  our  grateful  and  reverent 
love  to  our  saving  and  inspiring  hero.  I  beg  your  pardon  for  having 
been  so  prolix  on  this  point,  but  all  I  have  said  bears  even  directly 
upon  the  occasion  of  our  festive  meeting  on  this  day.  For,  sir,  I  con- 
fess I  have  never  been  able  to  understand  how  one  can  love  "  Shake 
speare's  Plays  "  without  feeling  the  most  lively  interest  for  the  national 
theater  on  which  his  dramas  are  to  be  represented,  and  the  highest  re- 
gards for  the  great  actor.  (Cheers.)  The  great  actor  is  infinitely  more 
necessary  to  reproduce  the  author's  idea  of  a  play  than  a  good  musical 
director  is  required  for  the  understanding  of  a  great  musical  composi- 
tion. You  can  set  tunes  and  harmonies  to  notes,  but  not  words  and 


644  MAC  READY'S  DIARIES.  1831. 

sentences  to  acclamation.  And  what  can  you  prescribe  for  action? 
The  great  actor  is  the  real  hypophetes  of  the  prophet,  the  best  inter- 
preter of  his  meaning,  and  nothing  less  than  his  whole  person,  his 
body,  mind,  and  soul,  are  required  for  performing  that  great  task.  In 
the  age  in  which  we  live  it  is  not  the  question  whether  we  are  to  have 
a  national  theater  or  not.  The  question  only  is,  whether  the  theater 
is  to  be  conducted  by  libretto-makers  and  mechanical  or  mercantile 
managers,  or  whether  it  is  to  be  regulated  by  first-rate  men  both  of  in- 
tellect and  of  moral  courage.  The  question  is  whether  we  shall  allow 
it  to  be  disgraced  into  a  slave  of  fashion  and  low  amusement,  or  whether 
it  is  to  be  upheld  as  a  high  intellectual  and  moral  school,  nourished  by 
the  best  feelings  of -the  nation,  or  worthy  of  the  support  of  an  enlight- 
ened national  Government.  Gentlemen,  I  think  we  all  agree  about 
this  alternative.  It  is  our  cordial  agreement  on  this  question  which  has 
collected  us  also  to-day  around  our  justly  honored  guest.  The  German 
literature  and  nation  have  long  decided  that  question  in  the  same  way. 
I  have  already  mentioned  that  Lessing  allied  himself  with  Schroder, 
the  celebrated  German  actor  of  his  time.  In  the  same  manner  Goethe 
dedicated  a  great  part  of  his  long,  laborious,  and  self-devoted  life  to 
creating  and  maintaining  a  national  theater,  and  so  did  Ludvvig  Tiek 
for  many  years  at  Dresden  and  Berlin.  I  think  that  precious  as  their 
time  was  it  was  well  bestowed  upon  this  great  object :  and  I  cannot 
allow  this  occasion  to  pass  without  mentioning  a  fact  directly  bearing 
upon  this  occasion,  that  when  Ludwig  Tiek  was,  in  1817,  in  London, 
he  was  struck  by  a  young  actor  then  only  beginning  to  appear  before 
the  public.  He  did  not  see  him  in  a  Shakespearian  play  —  the  par- 
ticular object  of  his  devoted  attention,  but  in  a  now-forgotten  drama 
of  the  day,  in  a  character  neither  attractive  nor  deeply  poetical.  But, 
nevertheless,  he  was  struck  by  that  young  actor  in  the  midst  of  the 
splendid  constellations  which  then  shone  on  the  English  stage.  "  If 
this  young  man,"  Tiek  says,  in  his  dramaturgic  letters  of  1817,  "  goes 
on  as  he  has  begun,  he  will  become  one  of  the  most  eminent  actors  of 
the  age."  The  young  man's  name  was  William  Macready.  (Loud 
cheers.)  Gentlemen,  there  remains  nothing  more  for  me  than  to  pay 
personally  the  tribute  of  sincere  admiration  and  gratitude  to  him  by 
whose  side  I  have  to-day  the  distinguished  honor  to  sit.  Having 
watched  him  attentively  during  the  ten  years  I  have  had  the  happiness 
to  spend  in  this  country,  I  do  not  know  whether  I  admire  him  more  as 
a  man  who  has  made  me  understand  Macbeth  and  Hamlet  —  and 
above  all  Lear  —  better  than  I  ever  understood  them  before,  or  as  the 
high-minded  manager,  and  as  the  man  of  character  who  has  often 
staked  his  very  existence  on  his  great  and  noble  object,  which  was  — 
to  raise  the  standard  of  his  art,  to  elevate  the  English  actor,  and  to 
purify  and  ennoble  the  national  stage.  And  I  finally  wish  you  joy, 
gentlemen,  that  you  have  celebrated  the  retirement  of  this  man  from 
the  stage  in  a  manner  which  honors  both  him  and  yourselves,  and 
which  is  full  of  European  and  universal  interest ;  and  I  conclude  by 
expressing  my  deep-felt  gratitude  for  having  associated  me  with  your 
feelings.  (Cheers.) 


1851.  SIIERBORNE— LONDON.  645 

Mr.  W.  J.  Fox,  M.  P.,  proposed  "  The  Stage,"  connecting  with  it 
the  name  of  Mr.  C.  Kemble,  as  one  of  the  representatives  of  the  past, 
and  of  Mr.  Phelps,  as  one  of  the  representatives  of  the  future  —  the 
latter  gentleman,  he  observed,  having  redeemed  Sadler's  Wells  from 
clowns  and  waterworks  (hear,  hear),  and  made  it  a  not  unworthy 
shrine  of  Shakespeare,  and  a  pledge  of  what  the  drama  would  be  be- 
fore the  impulse  which  had  been  given  to  it  by  Mr.  Macready  was 
exhausted. 

Mr.  C.  Kemble  presented  himself  to  respond  to  the  toast,  when  the 
whole  company  rose  and  cheered  in  the  most  enthusiastic  manner  for 
some  moments.  When  silence  had  been  restored,  he  said:  Until  he 
sat  down  to  dinner  he  had  not  the  least  expectation  that  such  a  com- 
pliment would  have  been  paid  to  him,  and  when  he  saw  himself  sur- 
rounded by  so,  many  men  eminent  in  literature,  science,  and  art,  they 
could  not  be  surprised  that  he  felt  utterly  at  a  loss  for  words  ade- 
quately to  express  his  thanks.  He  would  not  attempt  what  he  felt  to 
be  impossible,  but  he  entreated  them  to  believe  that  he  was  not  the 
less  deeply  sensible  of,  nor  the  less  highly  flattered  by,  the  very  signal 
favor  they  had  conferred  upon  him.  (Cheers.) 

Loud  cries  were  raised  for  Mr.  Phelps,  but  it  was  announced  by  the 
chairman  that  that  gentleman  had  left  the  room. 

Mr.  THACKERAY  proposed  "  The  health  of  Mrs.  Macready  and  her 
family,"  which  was  briefly  acknowledged  by  Mr.  Macready. 

The  toast  of  "  The  Ladies  "  was  proposed  by  Lord  Dufferin,  and  the 
chairman  then  quitted  the  chair ;  and  the  company  separated  shortly 
before  twelve  o'clock. 

London  to  Sherborne,  March  2d.  —  Came  away  with  my  dear  chil- 
dren and  sister.  Read  the  "  Observer  "  and  the  '•  Examiner."  Was 
in  very  great  spirits,  very  thankful.  Reached  home  in  good  time  and 
found  all  well.  Thank  God.  Passed  a  happy  evening  with  them, 
talking  over  what  had  so  recently  passed  as  a  bright  dream  before  us, 
and  went  to  bed  grateful  and,  I  must  say,  happy  in  my  home  and  my 
heart. 

10th.  — -  Sherborne  to  London. 

London,  March  \\th.  —  Dined  with  Kenyon,  who,  against  my  ur- 
gent request,  had  a  party.  Abbott  Lawrence,  Count  Strzelecki,  Booth 
(of  Board  of  Trade),  Sir  George  Back,  Procter,  Dr.  Bright  F.  Gold- 
smid,  and  Forster. 

12th. —  Went  to  Dickens's  to  dinner.  Met  Bulwer  Lytton,  Mark 
Lemon,  D.  Jerrold,  Egg,  Forster,  etc.  The  day  was  given  up  to  the 
business  of  the  performance,  and  amusing  it  was  to  notice  their  many 
grounds  of  debate,  and  assurances  of  success.  Mr.  Egg  thought  that 
Willmott  as  prompter  might  put  them  too  much  into  conventional 
habits. 

13th. —  Dined  with  Procters.  Met  Bulwer  Lytton,  Christie,  Lady 
Eastlake,  Miss  Hay,  Forster. 


G4G  MACREADY'S  DIARIES.  1851. 

\\tli.  —  Dined  with  the  Pollocks:1  and  read  the  rest  of  George 
Sand's  "  Chateau  des  Desertes." 

IGt/i.  —  Went  out  to  Mortlake,  called  on  Henry  Taylor.  He  read 
the  preface  to  "  Killing  no  Murder,"  a  royalist  pamphlet  addressed  to 
Oliver  Cromwell,  and  some  passages  from  it.  Mrs.  H.  Taylor  and 
Spedding  arrived,,  and  I  passed  a  very  agreeable  evening.  Gave 
Spedding  a  seat  in  the  carnage  to  come  home. 

.  l&th.  —  Called  on  dear  old  Mr.  Rogers.  Hen!  quantum  mutatus. 
I  shall  never  see  him  again.  He  talked  much  and  I  sat  long,  lie 
talked  much  of  poetry,  quoting  passages,  and  citing  from  his  own. 
He  spoke  of  sonnets,  to  which  he  has  a  great  dislike,  and  thought 
them  the  Procrustean  bed  for  thought.  He  sent  his  love  twice  to 
Catherine,  and  seemed,  as  I  parted  from  him,  to  have  the  persuasion 
that  it  was  for  the  last  time.  I  turned  as  I  left  the  room,  and  his  two 
hands  were  lifted  up  to  his  head  in  the  action  of  benediction  on  me. 

I9th.  —  As  I  review  the  circumstances  of  this  last  visit  of  mine  to 
London,  the  notice  is  forced  on  me  of  the  respect  and  regard  univer- 
sally manifested  toward  me.  I  have  felt  no  embarrassment  in  the 
presence  of  men  the  most  distinguished,  and  have  been  addressed  and 
treated  by  them  as  on  a  footing  of  most  perfect  equality.  Though  ex- 
periencing usually  much  courtesy,  I  have  never  felt  this  independence 
of  position  before.  I  can  look  my  fellow-men,  whatever  their  station, 
in  the  face  and  assert  my  equality.  I  am  most  grateful  for  this  feel- 
ing, which  is  among  the  blessings  for  which  my  gratitude  refers  to 
Almighty  God. 

Winchester,  March  2lst.' — My  income  this  year  I  reckon  at  £1,285, 
my  expenses  at  £882,  leaving  my  balance  for  Willie's  college  terms, 
etc.,  £403. 

Sherborne.  March  22rf. 

April  2lst.  —  Went  with  Willie  to  the  soiree  of  the  Sherborne 
Literary  and  Scientific  Institution.  Saw  Messrs.  Ffooks,  Highmore. 
Falwasser,  Willmott,  etc.  Amused  with  the  proceedings,  and  shall 
take  an  interest  in  the  society. 

IsOndon,  May  3d.  —  Went  to  the  Exhibition.  Was  struck  with 
the  splendor  of  the  view  on  reaching  the  center,  looking  round  at  the 
transepts,  and  up  and  down  the  cross.  The  most  beautiful  single  ob- 
jects were  the  park  trees  growing  within  the  building,  the  coup  <f<zil 
was  very  striking,  very  imposing,  the  detail  very  surprising,  very 
beautiful.  With  all  its  extraordinary  magnificence  my  feeling  w;i>. 
that  if  I  had  not  seen  it,  I  should  not  have  regretted  it  very  much. 
The  good  effect  it  produced  on  my  mind  was,  it  showed  me  the  utter 
absurdity  of  any  individual  prizing  himself  for  what  he  may  possess  of 
rich  and  rare,  when  there  is  such  a  world  of  wealth  beyond  the  very 
richest  and  most  powerful,  whose  utmost  means  must  look  insignificant 
compared  with  what  can  constantly  be  brought  to  outshine  it  by  the 
industry  of  man.  Learn  content  and  humility. 

Went  to   the  Royal  Academy  Exhibition.     Delighted  with  much 

1  Now  at  59  Montagu  Square.  —  ED. 


1861.  ROYAL  ACADEMY  DINNER.  G47 

that  I  saw ;  Maclise's  Caxton  is  the  picture  of  the  year.  E.  Land- 
seer  has  a  most  brilliant  fancy  of  Titania  and  Bottom,  and  some  excel- 
lent things  besides.  Herbert,  one  small  powerful  figure  of  Daniel. 
Ward  very  good,  Stanfield  and  Frith.  An  unknown  name,  Faed, 
very  good.  The  Exhibition  I  think  beyond  any  of  its  precursors. 
Much  excellence,  and  lowest  the  level  above  preceding  years.  Went 
home  to  dress  having  seen  Stanfield,  Hart,  Herbert,  Maclise,  Bulwer, 
Dickens,  etc. 

Returned  to  Academy,  saw  Van  de  Weyer,  Lord  Londesborough, 
Lord  Carlisle,  Milman,  Sir  R.  Murchison,  etc. 

As  usual,  the  effect  of  the  pictures,  at  first  distinct,  bright,  and  warm 
in  their  clear  outline  and  glow  of  color,  the  thought  of  the  superior 
intelligences  assembled  there,  the  music  and  the  festive  feeling  of  the 
hour,  were  most  delightful.  The  gradual  closing  in  of  the  evening 
dimming  more  and  more  the  clearness  of  the  subjects,  until  at  length 
the  outlines  were  lost,  the  expression  obscured,  and  the  rich  promi- 
nences of  each  were  so  many  beautiful  interspersed  masses  of  color, 
memories  only  to  the  spectator  of  the  stories  so  charmingly  told,  that 
seemed  now  clouded  from  his  view.  In  an  instant  the  rising  of  the 
gas  gave,  as  by  an  enchanter's  wand,  the  objects  of  our  former  admira- 
tion back  to  the  delighted  sense  in  all  the  brilliancy  of  light.  There 
is  nothing  more  delightful  than  the  enjoyment  of  this  scene.  The  usual 
routine  was  passed.  The  Prince  spoke  very  well ;  Lord  John  but  so 
so  ;  Macaulay  indifferently,  for  such  men.  The  Duke  as  usual.  To 
our  astonishment  and  I  may  say  horror,  Eastlake,  in  associating  litera- 
ture with  the  arts,  mentioned  the  names  of  Dickens,  myself,  and  Bul- 
wer. I  could  have  sunk  into  the  earth.  Dickens  was  for  the  first 
time  on  such  an  occasion  completely  taken  aback  ;  he  rose,  as  did  I, 
thinking  to  cover  myself  under  his  speech.  Bulwer  would  not.  Dick- 
ens made  a  very  fair  reply,  and  we  sat  down.  I  was  called  on  to  rise. 

0  God !   I  was  compelled ;  and  said  a  few  words,  I  know  not  what, 
about  being  urged  by  Dickens  and  others,  and  about  my  debt  to  the 
pictorial   art,  etc.     I  cannot  remember  anything,  except  that  I  was 
terribly  distressed.     The  evening  passed  off,  however,  very  pleasantly, 
and  Talfo'urd  and  myself  agreed  to  go  and  take  tea  at  the  Athenaeum. 

1  was  putting  on  my  coat,  as  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  came  up  and  shook 
hands  with  me  very  cordially,  joining  in  conversation  with  us.     We 
went  to  the  Club.     Then  Edwin  Landseer  came  in  and  sat  with  us 
very  pleasantly.     Saw  Thackeray  for  a  moment  as  I  was  passing  out. 

4th.  —  Forster  called,  went  with  him  to  Rogers.  Found  the  old 
man  very  cheerful,  thinner  than  when  I  last  saw  him,  but  in  very  good 
spirits.  He  told  all  his  stories  "  over  again."  Exhorted  the  three 
bachelors  to  get  married ;  spoke  of  Scott,  Byron,  and  Moore,  and  of 
his  own  poetry,  quoting  us  a  particularly  fine  line — "Their  very 
shadows  consecrate  the  ground." 

I  was  interested  by  Tom  Taylor's  account  of  his  studies.  Spedding 
is  a  most  pleasing  person.  Took  leave  of  dear  old  Rogers  once  more. 
I  think  indeed  for  the  last  time.  I  cannot  make  out  his  character. 


G48  MACREADTS  DIARIES.  1851. 

He  is  surely  good-natured,  with  philanthropic  and  religious  feelings, 
but  his  fondness  for  saying  a  sharp  thing  shakes  one's  certainty  in  him  : 
his  apparent  desire,  too,  to  produce  effect,  I  think,  sometimes  awakens 
doubts  of  his  sincerity  in  some  minds.  Dined  with  Dickens.  Maclise 
and  Forster  were  there.  Dickens  related  a  mot  of  Jerrold's :  P.  Cun- 
ningham's stating  that  he  had  been  eating  a  strange  dinner,  calves' 
tails,  Jerrold  observed,  "  Extremes  meet." 

Sherborne,  Sunday,  May  llth.  —  Walked  out  with  Willie,  intending 
to  go  to  church  at  the  little  village  near,  and  then  walked  in  to  Sir  W. 
Medlycott's.  The  morning  was  deliciously  beautiful,  and  we  both  en- 
joyed it.  The  church  was  closed,  no  service  ;  we  examined  its  exterior, 
and  walked  a  different  way  through  Poynington  and  home  by  the  Bath 
Road.  Never  have  I  felt  more  deeply  and  purely,  the  loveliness  of 
nature  and  the  bounty  of  God  to  me  and  mine ;  beauty  everywhere 
and  impressing  every  sense.  0  God,  let  me  never  fail  to  be  sensible 
of  Thy  unspeakable  goodness. 

3lst. —  Letters  informing  me  that  a  paragraph  had  appeared  in 
"  Daily  News"  and  "Shipping  Gazette,"  stating  that  it  was  intended 
to  bring  me  forward  as  a  candidate  for  the  Tower  Hamlets,  which 
made  me  laugh  most  heartily. 

Sunday,  June  1st.  —  Read  newspaper,  in  it  saw  a  paragraph  from 
the  "  Daily  News,"  stating  that  it  was  the  intention  of  some  persons 
to  put  me  in  nomination  as  Member  of  the  Tower  Hamlets.  I  was 
amused  very  much,  and  showed  it  to  Catherine  and  Letitia  ;  Catherine 
would  wish  the  project  might  be  realized ;  Letitia  thought  (as  I  do) 
that  even  if  there  was  probability  of  success,  such  a  measure  was  not 
to  be  desired  or  entered  upon. 

Read  prayers  to  the  family  and  servants. 

5th.  —  Heard  of  the  death  of  my  very  dear  friend,  nearly  one  of 
my  oldest  friends  —  one  who  clung  to  me  in  all  his  elevation  —  dear 
Richard  Sheil.  Another  gone,  another  to  teach  me  how  slight  is  the 
barrier,  how  short  a  distance  from  me,  that  separates  me  from  another 
state  of  existence. 

June  2Gth. —  Wrote  to  Pollock,  sending  for  Mr.  Johnson,  who  will 
go  to  meet  him.  Wrote  to  Eeles,  to  Bradbury  and  Evans,  to  Col- 
naghi  with  check  for  £9  1  Is.  6<£.,  to  Forster.  Played  at  cricket  an 
hour  with  the  boys.  The  heat  was  extreme,  and  I  find,  upon  experi- 
ment, that  fifty-eight  cannot  do  the  work  of  eighteen.  I  do  not  feel 
my  mind  old,  but  my  breath  and  body  are  unequal  to  extra  exertion. 
Very  much  tired. 

July  15th.  —  Waited  for  the  arrival  of  the  Pollocks,  who  at  last 
•lame.1  Walked  in  the  garden  till  time  to  dress  for  dinner.  A  cheer- 
ful evening. 

19/A.  —  Miss  Herries  and  Mrs.  Pollock  wished  me  to  read.  I  read 
the  beginning  of  the  fifth  book  of  "  Paradise  Lost,"  they  were  much 
affected.  Some  passages  of  Wordsworth,  etc. 

1  During  Macready's  residence  at  Sherborne,  the  nearest  railway  station  to  it,  in 
roming  from  London,  was  at  Frome,  a  distance  of  about  twenty-two  miles,  along 
a  hilly  country  road.  —  ED. 


1851.  END   OF  THE  DIARIES.  649 

Sunday,  July  20th.  —  Went  with  our  guests  and  Katie  to  Milborne 
Port  Church,  Sir  William  Medlycott  was  fortunately  at  the  church 
door  and  led  us  to  seats. 

Walked  in  the  garden  at  Ven,  with  Sir  William  and  Pollock.  We 
lunched  or  dined  there,  and  passed  the  time  pleasantly  enough  till  the 
carriage  was  ready  at  three.  Returned  home. 

Mrs.  Pollock  spoke  to  me  about  a  visit  to  them  in  London,  but 
that  I  cannot  see  in  the  future  of  things,  much,  so  very  much,  as  I  like 
them. 

August  17 th.  —  Read  the  paper,  in  which  was  a  long  and  able  arti- 
cle on  Mr.  McFarlane's  pamphlet  against  Gladstone's  disclosures  of 
Neapolitan  infamy  and  tyranny :  a  very  affecting  account  of  the  two 
or  three  last  years  of  the  Dauphin,  son  of  Louis  XVI.  His  silence 
for  such  a  length  of  time  is  one  of  the  most  deeply  affecting  instances 
of  human  suffering  I  have  ever  met  with.  God  help  us !  There 
surely  cannot  be  an  end  to  all  here,  or  all,  who  have  innocently  suf- 
fered, from  the  blessed  Jesus  downward,  have  existed  for  sorrow 
without  comfort,  and  seemingly  without  cause.  But  He  who  made 
us  must  have  His  own  purposes.  Let  us  wait  and  adore.  Amen. 

September  18th.  —  Mr.  Hallett  called,  wishing  me  to  be  President 
of  the  Literary  and  Scientific  Institute  of  this  year.  I  wished  to  serve 
the  Society,  but  required  time  for  my  answer. 

25th.  —  Mr.  Hallett  called  for  my  answer  to  be  President  of  the 
Literary  and  Scientific  Society.  I  talked  with  Catherine  about  it,  and 
felt  that  it  was  my  duty  to  do  my  best  in  such  a  cause.  I  assented, 
and  spoke  to  Mr.  Hallett  about  a  lecture,  etc.,  which  he  thought  would 
suit  the  Society,  on  the  poetry  of  the  poor. 

December  31st.  —  It  is  very  late  as  I  begin  to  enter  my  parting 
words  to  the  eventful  year  on  this  its  record  of  my  thoughts,  feelings, 
and  sufferings.  Continued  my  work,  too  late  begun,  upon  my  account 
books.  Heard  Walter  part  of  his  lesson.  Read  in  English  History 
with  Willie,  and  afterwards,  in  French,  Thierry's  "  Conquete  d'Angle- 
terre,"  with  Willie  and  Katie.  Took  a  warm  bath.  Received  gar- 
dener's character.  Sat  with  Catherine,  who,  thank  God,  seems  better. 
Not  quite  well  after  dinner.  Rested  in  her  room.  Read  French  and 
geography  with  my  adult  class.  Heard  Walter  his  lessons.  Looked 
at  the  paper.  Continued  my  books  and  partially  arranged  my  ac- 
counts. It  is  very  late.  Adieu  to  1851,  one  of  the  most  eventful 
years  of  my  eventful  life.  For  all,  thank  God,  thank  God,  thank  God. 
Amen. 


The  entry  in  Macready's  diary  for  the  last  day  of  1851,  might  serve 
as  a  specimen  of  the  greater  number  of  those  made  by  him  at  Sher- 
borne.  His  life  ceased  to  be  eventful  except  in  thought,  feeling,  and 
suffering.  The  details  indicated  in  it  were  those  of  his  daily  life. 
He  continued  to  give  anxious  and  unremitting  attention  to  his  pecun- 
iary affairs,  for  the  sake  of  those  depending  upon  him.  He  dedicated 


650  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

much  time,  more  indeed  tlinn  was  good  for  them  or  for  himse'f,  to  the 
miuute  personal  superintendence  of  the  general  education,  and  of  the 
various  lessons  of  his  children.  His  own  state  of  health  required 
great  care  and  consideration.  His  desire  for  occupation  and  his  habit- 
ual reliance  upon  his  own  judgment,  led  him  to  take  an  active  part 
in  the  domestic  management  of  his  household.  •  His  wife's  health  was 
not  strong,  and  the  first  great  sorrow  which  fell  upon  him  in  his 
retirement,  was  already  beginning  to  cast  its  shadow  before  it.  His 
general  schemes  for  extending  the  benefits  of  education  to  the  peo- 
ple among  whom  he  had  cast  his  lot,  were  getting  into  practical 
work.  Through  all,  and  above  all,  he  maintained  his  deep  and  pious 
sense  of  thankfulness  for  all  the  good  he  had  enjoyed  and  was  enjoy- 
ing. 

Macready's  severance  from  the  stage  was  complete.  The  white 
hood  worn  by  him  in  "  Philip  Van  Artevelde  "  was  the  only  theatrical 
trapping  which  survived  at  Sherborne.  His  wife  had  treasured  it  up. 
as  a  solitary  relic  belonging  to  a  character  in  which  she  especially  ad- 
mired him :  the  one  thing  she  had  asked  for  and  kept  as  a  remem- 
brance of  his  great  performances.  She  gave  it  to  Lady  Pollock  (then 
Mrs.  Pollock)  upon  the  occasion  of  her  first  visit  to  Macready  in 
Dorsetshire  (as  recorded  by  him  in  July,  1851),  and  it  now  remains  in 
her  possession. 

Into  Macready's  retreat,  however,  the  memories  of  his  past  career, 
and  the  devotion  of  the  many  persons  who  were  attached  to  him,  could 
not  fail  to  follow  him,  and  he  received  remarkable  expressions  of  re- 
gard and  admiration  from  different  quarters. 

Charles  Sumner  (10th  December,  1850)  wrote  from  Boston  (United 
States)  :  "  You  will  stand  out  hereafter  as  the  last  great  actor  of  the 
English  stage.  It  must  be  so  ;  and  I  rejoice  that,  associated  with  that 
position  will  be  so  much  of  private  worth  and  general  culture,  as  we 
admire  in  you.  Of  you  we  may  say  what  Cicero  said  in  his  oration  for 
Sextius,  of  the  great  Roman  actor  ^Esopus,  that  he  chose  the  noblest 
parts  both  as  an  actor,  and  a  citizen.  Mehercule  semper  partium  in 
republica,  tanquam  in  scend,  optimarum.  I  cannot  do  more  than  to 
wish  for  you  the  success  in  future  fame  which  attended  JEsopus." 

Dr.  Liddell,  now  Dean  of  Christ  Church  and  then  Head  Master  of 
Westminster  School,  writing  to  Macready  on  3d  March,  1851,  and 
alluding  to  his  farewell  dinner,  said  :  "  I  should  very  much  like  to  have 
been  one  of  the  clergy  who  attended  on  Saturday  to  express  by  their 
presence  their  thanks  to  one  who  had  done  so  much  for  elevating  the 
drama  to  its  own  high  and  noble  office.  But  all  efforts  to  get  tickets 
were  for  me  at  least  in  vain." 

Macready  had  also  at  this  time  many  other  letters  from  clergymen, 
testifying  respect  for  his  character  as  a  man  and  a  Christian,  and  ad- 
miration for  his  genius ;  and  thanking  him  for  the  example  of  fine 
elocution,  found  so  useful  to  them  in  the  pulpit,  as  well  as  for  his  ex- 
ertions in  elevating  the  dignity,  the  art,  and  the  moral  purity  of  the 
theater.  Nor  did  such  expressions  of  esteem  cease  to  be  given  when 


LETTER  FROM  WIGHT  WICK.  651 

the  immediate  occasion  of  Macready's  retirement  had  passed  away. 
After  his  decease,  similar  testimonies  were  renewed,  and  one  corre- 
spondent, personally  a  stranger  to  him  and  to  his  family,  wrote  to  his 
widow  : 

"  As  a  former  London  clergyman,  I  always  looked  up  to  two  men  as  doing  more 
good  in  their  respective  spheres  of  action,  than  any  others  that  could  be  named  at 
that  time.  I  mean  Melville  and  your  late  husband.  Few  perhaps  have  ever 
raised  the  standard  of  Christian  duties  among  the  young  intellect  of  London  so  suc- 
cessfully as  these  two  men.  It  was  a  real  grief  to  very  many  that  Macready's  health 
and  strength  did  not  hold  out  to  a  much  later  period  of  his  life,  so  great  was  the 
good  that  he  was  then  carrying  on.  However,  Dorset  is  a  high  testimony  to  his 
usefulness,  though  the  sphere  was  not  so  wide  or  distinguished  as  in  London. 
That  he  reached  more  than  the  Psalmist's  threescore  years  and  ten  in  such  high 
honor  and  esteem  must  be  the  greatest  consolation  of  his  family  under  the  loss  you 
are  now  deploring." 

A  letter  from  George  "VVightwick,  whose  friendly  professional  officeg 
prepared  Sherborne  House  for  Macready's  reception,  affords  a  signal 
example,  among  many,  of  the  enthusiasm  excited  by  the  great  actor 
on  the  stage  which  afterwards  led,  as  in  other  cases,  to  a  fervent  and 
lasting  friendship  in  private  life  : 

April  5tk,  1851. 

MY  DEAREST  MACREADY, —  It  must  have  been  in  the  year  1818  that  I  went 
one  evening  to  Covent  Garden  Theater  to  see  Miss  O'Neill  in  Jane  Shore.  She  was 
the  exclusive  object  of  my  crush  into  the  crowded  pit  of  that  vast  theater.  An  actor 
in  a  suit  of  humble  brown,  appeared  as  one  Dumont.  His  first  tone  came  over  my 
ear  with  an  influence  to  prove  that  an  extraordinary  sympathy  was  at  once 
elicited,  and  permanently  confirmed.  The  scene  with  Hastings,  in  which  Dumont 
disarms  the  imperious  nobleman,  made  me  feel  that  the  man  in  the  "  humble  brown 
suit"  was,  in  a  certain  sense  (so  far  as  the  expression  may  be  used,  without  de- 
basement to  him),  myself;  every  yearning  that  I  had  for  what  was  noble  in  nature 
and  true  in  art,  was  illustrated  in  him. 

And  year  after  year  did  this  feeling  grow  in  its  obstinate  strength,  with  all  the 
penalties  which  must  be  paid  for  pleasure  such  as  mine.  There  was  an  orchestra 
and  a  burning  row  of  lamps  between  us.  How  I  longed  to  overleap  them.  For- 
tunately, my  respect  and  deference  was  great  as  my  longing ;  and  the  latter,  as 
I  trust  you  will  allow,  was  at  length  and  by  modest  degrees,  inoffensively  gratified. 
You  know  how,  and  I  think  you  must  also  be  aware  how  delightfully  to  myself. 
Little,  however,  did  I  imagine  that  I  should  ever  be  to  you  what  your  gentle  kind- 
ness has  permitted  me  to  become.  The  conduct  and  courtesy  of  a  gentleman,  so 
far  as  they  could  be  shown  in  the  occasional  communion  of  ordinary  acquaintance, 
I  felt  would  be  manifested  to  me  ;  and  of  this  alone  I  should  have  been  sufficiently 
proud,  but  the  affectionate  responses  of  a  closely  knitted  friendship,  were  delights 
which  I  could  not  now  so  dearly  appreciate,  if  I  had  in  the  first  instance  arrogantly 
reckoned  on  them  as  probable.  I  wish  you  distinctly  to  understand  and  believe 
this  ;  because  I  wish  you  equally  to  be  assured  that,  having  what  I  desired,  I  value 
it  as  if  the  desired  "  having  "  were  still  to  be  obtained.  "  Age  cannot  wither,  nor 
custom  stale  it."  I  shall  ever  be  as  anxious  to  keep  it  as  I  was,  formerly,  earnest 
to  acquire  it.  Though,  "  Love  casteth  out  fear,"  it  is,  or  should  be,  ever  most 
conservative  of  the  original  respect,  which  put  itself  under  the  care  of  deferential 
delicacy. 

Well,  the  yearning  was  first  felt  in  1818,  thirty-three  years  ago,  and  on  the  3d 
of  March,  1851,  I  am  one  of  the  family  party  at  your  birthday  dinner  in  the  retire- 
ment-home I  have  assisted  to  prepare  for  you,  playing  hearth  games  with  your 
boys. and  girls.  Never  was  the  consummation  of  original  hope  and  earnest  wish 
more  complete  than  in  my  present  possession  of  your  regard.  Heaven  preserve  it 


G52  ^[.\.CREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

to  me,  for  it  is  most  precious !  and  in  nil  respects  wholesome  to  my  "  state  of 
man,"  except  that  it  perhaps  inclines  a  little  to  make  me  proud. 

As  a  public  man  I  believe  none  had  ever  so  great  a  share  of  admiration's  heart ; 
as  a  private  gentleman  I  am  convinced  no  one  has  a  greater  number  of  devotril 
friends.  With  many,  with  most  indeed,  you  will  hereafter  in  this  world,  have  but 
occasional  communion,  nor  will  I  regret  that  it  can  only  be  occasional  with  me, 
since  I  regard  all  good  and  true  things  as  only  begun  in  this  life  to  be  consum- 
mated in  the  life  which  will  have  no  ending. 

Your  truly  affectionate, 

GEORGE  WIGHTWICK. 

Macready's  work  in  the  cause  of  education  at  Sherborne,  and  his 
general  desire  to  do  good  to  those  around  him,  can  only  be  well  de- 
scribed by  those  who  were  personally  acquainted  with  them,  and  who 
took  part  with  him  in  the  practical  execution  of  his  benevolent 
schemes. 

He  devoted  himself  almost  exclusively  to  labors  of  kindness  and 
Usefulness ;  his  charity  was  so  extensive  that,  although  his  left  hand 
knew  not  what  his  right  hand  did,  it  was  impossible  that  it  should  es- 
cape observation,  even  beyond  the  sphere  of  the  recipients  of  his 
bounty ;  and  while  thus  engaged  in  relieving  distress  in  the  neighbor* 
hood  of  his  new  home,  he  continued  to  remit  money  to  old  pensioners 
elsewhere  up  to  the  day  of  his  death.  He  would  himself  visit  the  sick 
and  poor,  and  ascertain  their  necessities,  and  if  he  thought  they  were 
not  sufficiently  cared  for  he  would  send  to  them  his  own  medical 
attendant. 

But  his  great  interest  was  in  the  cause  of  education,  especially 
among  the  poorer  classes,  which  he  developed  at  the  cost  of  incessant 
personal  exertion  and  mainly  at  his  own  expense.  He  established  a 
night-school  which  he  conducted  himself,  and  in  which  he  was  assisted 
by  voluntary  teachers  from  among  the  gentlemen  and  tradesmen  of 
the  town,  who  attended  in  turns ;  but  he  was  himself  never  absent 
from  his  post,  except  under  very  urgent  necessity.  After  a  time,  some 
of  his  friends  raised  a  subscription  in  order  to  relieve  Macready  of  a 
part  of  the  burden  which  his  own  zeal  in  the  cause  had  brought  upon 
himself.  Yet  although  his  own  contribution  to  it  had  not  been  ever 
less  than  £100  a  year,  he  was  so  fond  of  the  night-school  that  he  ac- 
cepted this  aid  as  a  proof  of  the  estimation  in  which  his  work  was 
held,  and  as  an  additional  fund,  but  not  in  ease  of  his  own  payments. 
On  one  occasion,  when  driving  over  to  the  neighboring  town  of  Yeo- 
vil  on  matters  of  business  connected  with  the  Sherborne  Institution, 
his  companion  jokingly  remarked  that  a  country  fly  was  a  sorry  con- 
veyance for  the  great  tragedian,  and  that  he  ought  to  keep  his  own 
carriage  and  pair ;  he  said,  "  Ah,  but  then  I  must  give  up  my  night- 
school." 

A  most  valuable  testimony  to  the  importance  of  Macready's  educa- 
tional work  at  Sherborne  was  given  in  an  official  report  made  by  the 
Rev.  W.  H.  Brookfield,  at  that  time  one  of  her  Majesty's  Inspectors 
of  Schools  : 

"  The  best  evening  school  which  I  have  seen  is  that  at  Sherborne,  managed, 


SCHOOL  AND  INSTITUTION.  653 

and  in  great  measure  taught,  by  Mr.  W.  C.  Macready,  whose  name  needs  no  dis- 
tinctive synonym.  It  was  held,  when  I  visited  it  last  September,  in  an  ample  and 
well-lighted  room,  copiously  provided  with  the  usual  apparatus  of  instruction.  It 
was  attended  by  upwards  of  eighty  youths,  of  ages  varying  from  ten  to  twenty 
years,  but  averaging  thirteen,  arid  all  engaged  till  eA'ening  in  laborious  employ- 
ments. Their  attendance  appeared  to  be  spontaneous,  regular,  and  cheerful ;  their 
demeanor  docile ;  their  attainment,  practical  and  intelligent  in  kind,  and  of  satis- 
factory amount.  But  there  was  something  in  that  institution  still  more  impres- 
sive than  its  efficiency.  That  a  gentleman  who  retired  not  many  years  ago  from 
a  sphere  of  prominency  in  name,  in  person,  and  in  character,  where  he  was  always 
greeted  with  acclamations  of  esteem  such  as,  once  tasted,  it  must  be  difficult  to 
exchange  for  a  more  silent  homage,  should  now,  at  a  vigorous  —  not  far  advanced 
—  but  still  advancing  age,  be  found  punctually  devoting  some  hours  of  several 
evenings  a  week  to  teaching  the  children  of  a  few  Dorsetshire  laborers  the  humblest 
rudiments  of  that  language  whose  sublimest  creations  his  genius  had  for  years 
been  accustomed  to  interpret  to  successive  thousands  of  cultivated  listeners  ;  this 
is  a  fact  of  which  the  moral  significance  deserves  a  better  exposition  than  I  can 
venture  to  attempt.  I  have  met  with  many  sermons,  pamphlets,  orations  on  the 
duty  of  instructing  the  poor;  but  here  was  a  homily  in  action  which  I  congratulate 
myself  on  having  witnessed,  and  which,  while  I  do  not  presume  to  distrust  its  quiet 
usefulness  by  anything  so  incongruous  as  applause,  I  think  it  may,  in  many  ways, 
be  profitable  to  recall."  1 

Sherborne  was  not  less  indebted  to  Macready  for  the  revival,  direc- 
tion, and  strenuous  support  of  its  Literary  Institution,  which  had  fallen 
into  abeyance  and  was  in  danger  of  total  extinction.  By  his  exertions 
and  frequent  assistance  the  lectures  given  to  its  members  were  renewed. 
Dickens,  Thackeray,  Forster,  James  White,  Wightwick,  Bellew,  the 
present  Editor,  and  other  friends  of  Macready,  visited  him  and  were 
glad  to  support  him  in  his  endeavor  to  restore  animation  to  the  Institu- 
tion in  which  he  took  so  strong  an  interest ;  and  these  gratuitous 
lectures  from  time  to  time  occasioned  what  in  some  instances  appeared 
to  be  almost  fabulous  additions  to  its  formerly  scanty  funds,  and  ren- 
dered possible  the  formation  of  a  library,  which  was  farther  augmented 
by  gifts  of  books  from  Macready  and  his  friends.  Sometimes  too  he 
would  himself  give  a  Shakespearian  reading,  which  attracted  the  whole 
neighborhood,  and  largely  recruited  the  pecuniary  resources  of  the 
Institution. 

•  There  were  also  established  Institution  Classes ;  and  other  Institu- 
tions in  adjoining  towns  and  counties  were  induced  to  associate  them- 
selves in  the  movement.  For  several  years  annual  competitive 
examinations  were  held,  and  prizes  were  awarded  of  considerable 
value.  Many  country  gentlemen  took  a  kindly  interest  in  this  work, 
and  encouraged  it  by  their  aid  and  presence.  But  no  one  took 
Macready's  place  when  he  left  Sherborne,  and  the  Institution  again 
languished  for  want  of  due  support. 

Soon  after  his  arrival  in  Sherborne,  a  gentleman,  soliciting  subscrip- 
tions for  the  British  Schools,  happened  to  make  his  first  call  on  Ma- 
cready, and  informed  him  of  a  deficiency  existing  in  their  funds.  "  Let 
me  see  the  statement,"  said  Macready  ;  and  having  examined  the  ac- 

1  Report  of  Committee  of  Council  on  Education,  1859-60.  (Extract  from 
Report  for  year  1859,  by  Her  Majesty's  Inspector  of  Schools,  the  Rev.  W.  H. 
Brookfield.) " 


654  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

count  shown  him,  he  went  to  his  desk  and  drew  a  check  for  the  whole 
of  the  deficiency,  which  amounted  to  £38. 

The  friend  and  partner  in  Macready's  good  works  at  Sherborne, 
from  whose  recollections  the  preceding  account  of  them  is  chiefly 
drawn,  adds,  "  His  memory  is  still  fresh  among  us,  and  will  live  here 
as  long  as  his  public  fame  endures  in  the  world  at  large  ;  and  chil- 
dren's children  will  be  taught  to  speak  with  love  and  reverence  of 
'Mr.  Macready." 

Two  things  especially  had  attracted  Macready  to  Sherborne :  one, 
the  expected  advantages  of  its  ancient  grammar-school  for  the  educa- 
tion of  his  sons ;  the  other,  the  interesting  and  roomy  old  dwelling- 
house  which,  at  a  moderate  rent,  received  his  then  large  family,  and 
gave  ample  space  for  the  display  of  his  books,  his  prints,  and  his  other 
works  of  art. 

Sherborne  House  is  described  in  Hutchins's  "  Dorsetshire  "  (vol.  iv. 
p.  136)  as  "a  large,  handsome,  freestone  mansion  in  St.  Svvithin's 
Street,  erected  chiefly  by  Henry  Seymour  Portman,  Esq.,  who,  about 
1720,  left  it  to  his  nephew,  Francis  Seymour  (brother  of  Edwa/d, 
Duke  of  Somerset). 

"  The  staircase  was  painted  by  Sir  James  Thornhill.  It  is  said  that 
Mr.  Portman  at  first  intended  this  only  as  a  half-way  house  between 
his  Dorset  and  Somerset  estates,  and  that  when  he  afterwards  proposed 
to  give  it  to  his  lady  for  her  residence  after  his  decease,  she  refused  to 
accept  for  her  jointure-house  what  was  at  first  designed  as  an  inn, 
i.  e.,  an  occasional  resting-place  between  Bryanston  and  Orchard. 
The  architect  was  a  Mr.  Bastard,  of  Sherborne." 

The  difficulties  of  divided  authority,  which  must  always  to  some 
extent  exist  when  schoolboys  live  at  home  in  their  parents'  house  in 
the  same  town  with  their  school,  were  felt  probably  in  their  highest 
degree  in  Macready's  family.  He  had  strong  opinions  on  matters  of 
conduct,  discipline,  and  education,  and  had  been  all  his  life  accustomed 
to  see  his  own  views  enforced  ;  and  long  before  other  sad  reasons  came 
into  operation  which  would  have  rendered  the  contiguity  of  the  school 
under  any  circumstances  useless,  it  had  ceased  to  be  of  any  benefit  to 
him. 

The  house,  however,  led  to  no  disappointment,  and  was  singu- 
larly well  fitted  for  its  intended  objects.  It  stood  inclosed  in  its 
own  grounds;  a  little  retiring  from  the  road  in  front  of  it,  over  which 
there  was  an  uninterrupted  prospect  of  a  pretty  Dorsetshire  landscape. 
The  style  of  the  building  is  a  favorable  specimen  of  a  period  \vheu 
good  models  were  studied  and  carefully  followed  ;  and  when  archi- 
tects were  content  to  consider  the  light  and  comforts  of  the  interior  of 
a  house  as  among  the  first  matters  deserving  their  attention,  and  the 
front  is  a  good  piece  of  plain  renaissance  work.  Large  gates  closed 
either  end  of  a  short  carriage-drive,  or  sweep,  through  a  small  garden 
before  the  house.  The  center  of  the  ground  floor  was  occupied  by 
an  ample  entrance-hall,  paved  with  squares  of  black  and  white  mar- 
ble, the  scene  of  various  readings  by  Macready  to  large  invited  audi- 


SHERBORNE  HOUSE.  655 

ences.  On  the  left  was  a  dining-room,  paneled  in  dark  wood.  On 
the  right  was  the  library  (a  remarkably  light  and  cheerful  room), 
which  contained  in  handsome  cases  his  collection  of  books.  This  was 
a  good  and  varied  one,  in  English,  Greek,  Latin,  French,  and  Italian 
works,  but  was  not  especially  rich  in  dramatic  literature. 

The  library  was  sometimes  the  scene  of  private  readings  to  favored 
guests,  never  to  be  forgotten  by  the  few  who  had  the  privilege  of  hear- 
ing Shakespeare  and  Milton  interpreted  by  all  the  art  of  a  life  spent 
upon  the  study  of  them.  Macready  would,  on  these  occasions,  often 
begin  in  a  low  tone,  as  if  oppressed  by  the  weight  of  his  undertaking. 
His  voice  would  gradually  rise  into  power,  like  the  sun  breaking 
through  a  fog,  until  he  sent  it  forth  in  its  full  volume  of  sound.  Its 
music  would  then  sink  and  rise  in  varied  cadences  and  intonations,  and 
it  was  as  if  the  various  stops  of  a  tine  organ  were  being  by  turns  em- 
ployed at  the  will  of  a  great  player,  calling  into  action  the  full  power 
of  the  instrument  in  a  rich  and  magnificent  combination  of  all  its 
qualities. 

Macready  has,  in  more  than  one  recorded  opinion,  refused  to  rec- 
ognize the  reading  of  a  play  before  a  public  audience  as  an  equivalent 
for  its  performance  in  the  usual  manner  upon  the  stage  ;  nevertheless 
he  set  the  highest  value  upon  reading  as  the  best  mode  of  gaining 
real  and  profound  knowledge  of  a  great  poet's  works.  In  a  letter  to 
his  kinswoman,  Mrs.  Larden  (nee  Lydia,  Bucknill),  written  in  the 
second  year  of  his  residence  at  Sherborne,  he  dwelt  emphatically  on 
the  importance  of  reading  out  for  the  understanding  of  Shakespeare 
and  Milton. 

"  Except  in  a  guess  at  the  genuine  reading  of  a  doubtful  passage, 
the  explanation  of  obsolete  terms,  or  the  description  of  antique  usages, 
notes  to  a  good  poet  are  impertinent.  The  art  of  reading  is  the  key 
to  the  real  understanding  of  Shakespeare  —  of  Milton  —  of  all  that  is 
great.  Looking  into  peculiarities  will  not  help  a  student ;  he  begins 
at  the  wrong  end.  The  best  idea  he  will  get,  for  example,  of  Hamlet, 
from  a  book,  is  from  the  "  "Wilhelm  Meister  "  of  Goethe  ;  Goethe 
writes  as  if  he  felt  the  man's  inmost  feelings,  and  as  if  he  would  im- 
part those  feelings  in  reading  the  book  to  any  one.  I  know  of  no 
other  critic  who  writes  on  Shakespeare  as  a  great  actor  and  critic 
would  write  if  he  could.  What  critic  will  help  you  to  feel  Milton  ? 
Addison  is  the  best,  but  his  reader  must  bring  a  great  deal  to  his  aid." 
(26th  August,  1852.) 

Besides  the  rooms  already  described  at  Sherborne  House,  there  was 
a  quaint  apartment  on  the  ground-floor  at  the  back  of  the  entrance- 
hall,  which  went  familiarly  under  the  name  of  the  "  salle."  It  had 
been  elevated  from  baser  domestic  uses  to  the  rank  of  a  family  sitting- 
room,  under  Wightwick's  hands,  and  was  the  habitual  abiding  place 
for  the  younger  members  of  the  household.  Up-stairs  a  handsome 
drawing-room,  Macready's  own  room,  and  a  large  guest's  bed-chamber 
occupied  the  front  on  the  first  floor ;  and  these  rooms  were  approached 
through  a  lobby,  decorated  in  Pompeian  style,  which  went  well  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  semi-classical  architecture  of  the  mansion. 


656  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

Behind  the  house  was  a  large  old-fashioned  walled  garden,  with  turf 
and  flower-beds,  passing  into  a  kitchen-garden  and  orchard,  and  then 
into  a  paddock.  It  was  in  this  garden  that  Macready  took  much  of 
his  out-door  exercise,  and  in  which  he  most  loved  to  meditate. 

The  place  was  at  once  in  the  country  and  in  the  town.  The  town 
was  at  hand,  but  unseen,  and  a  few  steps  of  walking  led  into  the 
fields. 

Macready's  absences  from  Sherborne,  after  he  had  settled  there, 
were  neither  frequent  nor  long,  but  some  of  them  were  of  a  most  sor- 
rowful kind.  In  the  September  of  the  second  year  (1852)  of  his 
residence  there,  he  accompanied  his  wife  to  Plymouth,  where  she  died  ; 
and  he  had  to  make  again  the  journey  to  Kensal  Green  Cemetery  — 
a  melancholy  visit,  repeated  the  following  year  on  the  occasion  of  the 
death  of  his  son  Walter,  and  again  in  1857  on  the  death  of  his  son 
Henry,  whose  long  trials  of  illness  and  suffering  had  made  him  most 
dear  to  his  father.  To  this  child  he  had  been  nurse,  mother,  and  even 
physician,  and  to  the  last  hoped  for  his  restoration  to  health^after  all 
expectation  by  others  of  recovery  was  gone. 

He  was,  however,  every  year  for  a  short  time  in  London,  but  only 
on  business,  or  on  matters  connected  with  his  own  health  or  that  of 
his  children  ;  and  he  avoided  any  entrance  into  general  society,  seek- 
ing that  only  of  friends  whom  he  already  knew  and  liked. 

August  7th,  1852.  —  Macready  thus  noted  the  death  of  an  old 
friend  :  —  "  To  my  deep  grief  perceived  the  notice  of  the  death  of  dear 
Count  D'Orsay.  No  one  who  knew  him  and  had  affections  could  help 
loving  him.  Where  he  liked  he  was  most  fascinating  and  captivating. 
It  was  impossible  to  be  insensible  to  his  graceful,  frank,  and  most 
affectionate  manner.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  he  liked  me,  per- 
haps much,  and  I  certainly  entertained  the  most  affectionate  regard  for 
him.  He  was  the  most  brilliant,  graceful,  endearing  man  I  ever  saw 
—  humorous,  witty,  and  clear-headed.  But  the  name  of  D'Orsay  alone 
had  a  charm  ;  even  in  the  most  distant  cities  of  the  United  States  all 
inquired  with  interest  about  him." 

In  1854  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  then  Secretary  of  State  for  the 
Colonies,  gave  Macready's  eldest  son  William  a  writership  in  Ceylon  : 
an  appointment  in  which  he  afterwards  much  distinguished  himself, 
and  gained  the  approbation  and  good-will  of  his  official  superiors  and 
colleagues.  To  his  second  son,  an  Addiscombe  cadetship  for  the  mil- 
itary service  of  the  East  India  Company  had  been  previously  given  by 
Mr.  Herries,  when  President  of  the  Board  of  Control. 

In  1855,  Macready  came  up  to  London  to  take  part  in  the  dinner 
given  to  Thackeray  on  his  departure  to  deliver  his  lectures  in  Amer- 
ica ;  and  he  has  recorded  the  visit  under  the  date  of  llth  October, 
1855: 

"To  London  Tavern.  Met  there  Dickens,  Thackeray,  Jerrold, 
Pollock,  Stanfield,  Murphy,  Fladgate,  Charles  Knight,  Longman, 
Judge  Willes  (who  wished  to  know  me),  Russell  Sturges,  W.  Beckett, 
Leech,  Mark  Lemon,  P.  Cunningham,  White,  Bradbury,  Evans,  Rob- 


DEATH  OF  YOUNG.  657 

erts,  Spedding,  etc.  The  meeting  was  one  of  men  most  cordially  dis- 
posed to  be  happy.  All  glad  to  meet  and  pay  a  tribute  to  a  man  of 
genius.  The  dinner  was  superb.  My  place  was  between  Stanfield 
and  Judge  Willes,  next  to  whom  was  Jerrold,  Stanfield  being  on  the 
left  hand  of  Dickens,  who  was  in  the  Chair.  The  dinner  lasted  about 
two  hours,  Dickens's  speech  was  of  course  very  good,  but  not  his  very 
best.  Willes  was  surprised  at  the  eloquence  of  Dickens.  Albert 
Smith  improvised  a  song  with  remarkable  felicity,  full  of  point  and 
humor,  on  the  event  and  observations  of  the  evening.  It  was  a  great 
success." 

In  the  following  year  there  is  the  interesting  record  of  a  morning 
visit  to  the  ruins  of  Covent  Garden  Theater : 

April  4th,  1856. —  Passing  by  Covent  Garden  Theater,  I  stopped 
the  driver  and  directed  him  to  the  entrance.  The  custos  made  much 
objection  to  my  entrance,  but  on  giving  my  card  and  insisting  that 
Mr.  Gye  would  desire  that  I  should  have  admittance,  he  yielded,  and 
called  a  fireman  to  show  me  the  interior.  It  was,  as  ruin  ever  is,  a 
melancholy  sight ;  *  but  it  did  not  affect  me ;  it  was,  not  my  theater, 
the  scene  of  my  anxieties,  my  struggles,  my  trials,  and  my  sufferings, 
and  my  triumphs  ;  that  had  long  since  been  changed." 

In  the  spring  of  1856,  Macready  paid  a  short  visit  to  Paris,  where 
Dickens  was  then  staying.  He  saw  Ristori  act,  visited  George  Sand, 
in  company  with  his  friend  Regnier  of  the  Cornedie  Franchise,  and 
witnessed  part  of  the  performance  of  her  adaptation  of  Shakespeare's 
"  As  You  Like  It,"  which  he  notes  as  a  failure.2 

July  5th,  1856.  —  He  records  the  death  of  Young  : 

"  Read  with  deep  emotion  the  death  of  '  Charles  Mayne  Young, 
aged  seventy-nine.'  My  struggle  in  professional  life  was  against  him, 
and  for  several  years  we  were  in  rivalry  together;  disliking,  of  course, 
but  still  respecting  one  another.  I  am  now  the  only  one  of  the  men 
who  made  up  that  artistic  constellation  at  Covent  Garden." 

And  he  returned  to  the  subject  on  the  following  day  : 

"  The  news  of  Young's  death  yesterday  depressed  me  more  than 
those  who  had  witnessed  our  contention  for  the  prize  of  public  favor 
could  have  conceived.  I  had  a  very  sincere  respect  for  him.  No  two 
men  could  have  differed  more  in  the  character  of  their  minds,  in  their 
tastes,  pursuits,  and  dispositions  ;  but  his  prudence,  his  consistency  in 
his  own  peculiar  views,  and  the  uniform  respectability  of  his  conduct, 
engaged  and  held  fast  my  esteem  for  him,  from  the  time  that  the  ex- 
citable feelings  of  immediate  rivalry  had  passed  away.  I  am  thankful 
that  I  had  the  opportunity  of  proving  that." 

In  1857,  Macready  was  in  London  in  the  beginning  of  the  year,  and 
assisted  as  a  spectator  at  the  private  theatrical  performances 3  given  by 

1  Covent  Garden  Theater  was  destroyed  by  fire,  5th  March,  1856. 

2  M.  Delaunay,  then  a  young:  actor  at  the  Theatre  Francais,  was  the  Orlando, 
and  the  piece  was  otherwise  well  acted,  but  its  inherent  faults  of  construction 
made  its  success  impossible. 

3  The  Frozen  Deep,  by  Wilkic  Collins,  and  Backstone's  farce  of  Uncle  John. 

42 


G58  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

Dickens  at  his  residence,  Tavistock  House,  Tavistock  Square,  of  which 
he  wrote  to  Lady  Pollock :  "  It  was  remarkably,  extraordinarily 
clever,  in  all  respects.  The  acting  uncommonly  good ;  I  mean  posi- 
tively so,  and  rendered  so  much  more  effective  by  the  general  harmony 
of  the  party.  I  do  not  wonder  at  your  having  recourse  to  your  cam- 
bric. The  performance  excited  me  very  much. 

Later  in  this  year  he  attended  the  meeting  of  the  Social  Science 
Association  at  Birmingham,  and  paid  a  visit  to  an  old  Rugby  school- 
fellow, the  Walhouse  of  early  days,  who,  in  1812,  took  the  name  of 
Littleton,  was  Chief  Secretary  for  Ireland  in  1834,  and  in  1835  had 
been  created  Lord  Hatherton.  He  gave  also  lectures  at  Bradford, 
Bridport,  Weymouth,  Blandford,  and  Reading ;  and  spent  part  of  the 
autumn  at  Charmouth,  on  the  Dorsetshire  coast,  which  he  describes 
himself  as  leaving  "  with  reluctance,  and  going  back  to  the  home 
which  possesses  the  images  of,  and  the  associations  with,  so  many  lost 
ones." 

The  year  1858  was  saddened  by  the  death,  in  June,  of  Macready's 
daughter  Lydia  (Lillie),  and  it  was  followed  in  November  by  that  of 
his  "  sister  and  friend,"  Letitia,  which  put  an  end  to  the  longest  com- 
panionship of  his  life ;  and  again,  and  twice  within  six  months,  the 
mournful  journey  to  London  and  the  slow  procession  to  Kensal  Green 
Cemetery  had  to  be  made. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1859  Macready  left  his  seclusion  at 
Sherborne  to  say  farewell  to  his  eldest  son  and  his  wife,  on  their  de- 
parture from  England  on  their  returning  to  Ceylon  ;  but  during  these 
years  he  continued,  as  always,  devoted  to  his  educational  work,  and 
was  occasionally  delivering  lectures  or  readings  at  Sherborne  and  other 
places. 

The  beginning  of  the  year  1860  was  marked  by  preparations  for 
leaving  Sherborne,  where  the  house  to  which  he  had  retired  from 
London  had  become  too  large  for  his  now  diminished  family,  and 
which  had  now  so  many  sad  associations  connected  with  it ;  in  Ma- 
cready's own  words,  it  was  "  mournful  to  look  on  the  many  empty 
seats  around  the  once  crowded  table,  and  life  had  lost  much  of  its 
charm  in  the  absence  of  those  whose  presence  once  made  its  happi- 
ness." The  move  to  Cheltenham  now  resolved  upon  was,  therefore,  in 
every  way  a  desirable  one. 

He  gave  a  final  reading  of  "  Othello,"  for  the  benefit  of  the  Literary 
Institution,  and,  on  the  27th  of  March,  upon  resigning  the  Presidency 
of  the  Institution,  a  handsome  silver  epergne  was  presented  to  him, 
with  the  unanimous  vote  of  the  members,  expressing  their  regret  at 
his  departure  and  their  grateful  acknowledgments  of  the  services  ren- 
dered by  him  to  the  Society. 

On  the  30th  of  March,  he  took  leave  of  his  evening  school,  and  has 
thus  described  the  occasion  :  —  "I  gave  to  them  the  Bibles  and  dis- 
tributed the  prizes,  received  the  kind  boys'  testimonial  (a  handsome 
silver  paper-knife),  addressed  them  and  the  assembly,  Dr.  Williams, 
and  other  friends.  All  spoke  in  most  affectionate  and  regretful  terms. 


LETTERS.  659 

Have  I  not  reason  to  be  grateful  to  God  —  and  am  I  not  so  ?  Blessed 
be  His  name." 

Macready's  marriage  with  his  second  wife  took  place  in  1860,  and 
was  celebrated  at  St.  John's  Church,  Redland,  Clifton,  on  the  3d  of 
April  in  that  year.  Mrs.  Macready  was  the  fifth  daughter  of  Henry 
Spencer,  Esquire,  and  a  grand-daughter  of  Sir  William  Beechey,  R.  A., 
painter  to  George  III.  and  Queen  Charlotte.  His  residence  for  the 
remainder  of  his  days  was  now  fixed  at  Cheltenham,  where  a  house  in 
Wellington  Square  received  him  and  his  family,  and  where  his  life  was 
from  henceforth  one  of  complete  retirement.  He  enjoyed  correspond- 
ing with  old  friends,  and  also  occasional  visits  from  them.  Most  of  his 
time  was  spent  in  his  library  with  his  books,  or  in  preparing  for  the 
evening  readings,  which  were  the  delight  of  his  domestic  circle. 

Macready's  youngest  son,  Cecil  Frederick  Nevil,  was  born  the  7th 
of  May,  1862,  and  several  years  succeeded  of  much  tranquil  happiness. 


The  letters  which  now  follow,  in  the  order  of  their  dates,  have  been 
selected  from  those  written  by  Macready  to  the  Editor,  and  to  Lady 
Pollock,  from  the  time  of  his  retirement  to  Sherborne,  until  the  time 
when  he  almost  ceased  to  write  at  all :  — 

SHERBORNE,  DORSET,  February  fjth,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  POLLOCK,  —  The  date  of  your  letter  looks  reproachful^ 
at  me.  But  I  think  I  may  justly  deprecate  any  discontent  with  the 
long  delay  of  my  acknowledgment,  in  referring  to  the  unhappy  state  in 
which  your  kind  and  welcome  greeting  found  the  inmates  of  our  home, 
and  in  which  so  many  of  them  have  continued.  Mrs.  Macready's 
health  is  an  incessant  cause  of  anxiety  to  us.  She  is,  I  fear,  wasting 
under  a  disorder  which  medical  science  has  hitherto  failed  to  reach. 
God  knows  to  what  issue  it  will  come  !  But  the  alternations  of  hope 
and  fear,  and  the  needful  attention  even  to  the  sustaining  of  her  spirits, 
occupy  much  of  each  day,  and  will  help  to  account  for  the  heavy  bal- 
ance of  correspondence  against  me.  We  have  a  sick  room,  too,  up- 
stairs ;  but  we  believe  in  the  appearance  of  returning  health,  that 
comes  to  gladden  that.  It  was  a  great  pleasure  to  us  in  our  unusually 
melancholy  Christmas  time  to  read  of  your  happy  gathering  at  dear 
Dickens's.  I  was  with  you  all  in  spirit,  and  could  afterwards  in  your 
account  see  the  happy  looks  of  the  brilliant  crowd  and  enjoy  the  gayety 
of  such  a  memorable  evening.  What  shall  I  render  you  for  all  the  de- 
lightful account  of  your  delightful  evening  ?  What  can  Sherborne 
have  to  tell  of  itself  that  can  be  worth  the  listening  to  ?  All  that  has 
happened  to  raise  a  ripple  on  the  dull  surface  of  our  stagnant  life  has 
been  a  sort  of  soiree,  which  I  gave  in  the  hall  to  the  members  of  our 
little  Mechanics'  Institution,  in  the  shape  of  a  lecture  on  the  influence 
of  poetry  on  the  mind,  illustrating  my  discourse  with  two  or  three 
recitations,  to  which  they  listened  with  an  earnestness  of  attention 


660  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

\ 

tluit  very  much  interested  me.  I  am  quite  sure  you  would  have  been 
deeply  gratified  in  witnessing  the  decorous  manner,  and,  I  may  say, 
the  gentlemanly  feeling,  that  they  evinced,  without  any  occurrence  to 
disturb  the  pleasant  even  tone  of  the  entire  ceremony.  My  poor  wife, 
who  was  most  anxious  that  it  should  come  off,  and  who,  I  fancy,  made 
herself  temporarily  better,  that  it  should  do  so,  sat  up-stairs,  listening 
to  catch  any  sound  from  below,  and  waiting,  with  efforts  at  patience,  for 
a  report  of  the  proceedings.  I  am  striving  to  improve  the* Institution, 
but  my  country  neighbors  have  not  much  sympathy  with  the  project 
of  elevating  the  operative  class.  I  trust  that  your  solicitude  for  your 
brother  has  been  happily  relieved  before  this,  and  that  he  has  recov- 
ered, or  may  hope  to  recover,  the  sight  of  his  eye.  My  wife,  sister, 
and  Katie  join  with  me  in  affectionate  remembrance  to  Mrs.  Pollock ; 
and  with  every  kindest  wish, 

I  remain  always  and  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


SHERBORXE,  DORSET,  February,  19?/i,  1852. 

This  morning's  post  brings  me,  my  dear  Mrs.  Pollock,  your  kind 
invitation,  which  extorts  from  me,  one  or  two  days  earlier  than  my 
intention,  the  answer  to  your  former  welcome  and  interesting  letter. 
But  first  —  you  will  soon  see  in  print  my  reasons  for  not  accepting 
the  pleasure  you  propose  to  me.  I  have  given  notice  to  the  persons 
conducting  the  affairs  of  the  Theatrical  Fund  of  my  inability  to  un- 
dertake the  duties  of  Chairman  at  their  festival.  The  state  of  Mrs. 
Macready's  health  keeps  me  in  such  constant  anxiety,  between  such 
painful  alternations  of  grasping  at  the  shadow  of  any  hope,  and  sink- 
ing under  an  almost  numbing  depression,  that  I  really  cannot  bear  to 
contemplate  a  responsibility,  for  which  I  see  no  prospect  of  the  ability 
to  prepare  myself,  and  which,  at  the  very  last  moment,  I  may  be  com- 
pelled to  relinquish.  It  is  not,  therefore,  probable  that  I  shall  leave 
home,  at  least  citywards,  for  many  a  day,  my  presence  being  indispen- 
sable at  home,  and  rendered  more  than  ordinarily  so  (if  there  may  be 
degrees  in  so  positive  a  necessity)  by  the  incapacitating  illness  of  my 
suffering  partner.  But  hope  is  the  life  of  life ;  and  I  cannot  help 
looking  out  beyond  these  present  heavy  months  to  the  brighter  ones 
of  summer,  praying  that  they  may  bring  health  and  cheerfulness  again 
to  our  melancholy  abode,  and  that  with  them  you  and  Mr.  Pollock 
and  Julian  will  come  to  make  the  summer  holiday,  to  which  we  bend 
our  thoughts  and  straining  eyes  as  one  of  the  events  of  our  year. 
You  think  we  should  not  try  to  see  beyond  the  present ;  but  when 
that  is  dark,  may  we  not  do  well  to  believe  that  the  little  gleam  along 
the  horizon's  rim  may  have  sunshine  in  it  ?  If  you  could  but  know 
how  ingenious  and  how  pertinacious  is  hope  to  those,  who,  at  sea,  are 
longing  for  a  sight  of  land,  in  proving  and  insisting  that  the  fog-banks 
in  their  distance  must  be  terra  fir  ma,  you  would  concur  in  the  reason- 


LETTERS.  661 

ableness  of  our  clinging  to  the  belief,  that  the  summer  must  be  well 
with  us,  repaying  us  for  much  that,  under  such  expectations,  we  are 
contented  to  undergo.  Mrs.  Macready  sends  her  love  to  you,  and 
participates  with  Katie  and  my  sister  and  myself  in  all  our  summer 
plans. 

J  was  very  much  amused  with  your  description  of  the  marionettes ; 
it  was  so  faithful  that  I  saw  them  distinctly,  as  I  remember  them  at 
Home,  where  I  used  to  give  my  nightly  attendance  at  their  theater. 
On  one  occasion  I  recollect  the  arlecchino  was  exciting  the  bursts  of 
laughter  of  the  audience,  when  the  tinkling  of  a  bell  was  heard  from 
the  street  —  the  performance  suddenly  stopped,  the  whole  audience 
went  down  upon  their  knees,  I,  of  course,  among  the  rest  ("  At  Rome," 
etc.),  and  till  the  sound  of  the  bell  had  ceased  to  be  heard,  the  silence 
was  profound.  I  whispered  to  my  neighbor,  "  What  is  that  ?  "  She 
answered,  "  It  is  the  Lord."  It  was  the  Host  being  carried  to  a  dying 
person.1  I  quite  agree  with  you  that  our  actors  and  actresses  might 
take  a  lesson  in  unconsciousness  that  would  greatly  benefit  their  audi- 
ences from  those  earnest  players.  The  mere  recollection  of  them  is  a 
pleasure  to  me.  I  have  been  interrupted  in  my  letter  by  a  two  hour's 
visit  from  an  interesting  person,  who  lectured  at  our  little  Institution 
last  night  on  "  Milton  as  a  Man,"  and  gave  us  a  very  eloquent  dis- 
course. He  has  just  left  me,  but  with  little  time  to  finish  my  letter, 
which,  however,  is  already  quite  long  enough.  I  was  truly  glad  to 
hear  that  your  good  husband  had  quite  recovered  from  his  severe  cold, 
of  which  Forster  had  informed  me  also.  I  wish  he  could  enjoy  the 
benefit  of  our  mild  and  yet  bracing  air,  but  I  trust  he  will  when  there 
is  more  shade  and  more  need  of  it. 

I  cannot  imagine  how  you  can  have  possessed  yourself  with  the  idea 
that  Gertrude  was  a  participator  in  the  murder  of  Hamlet.  The  ran- 
dom words  in  that  moment  of  maddening  excitement  are  not  meant  to 
couple  the  two  acts  of  murder  and  marriage  as  crimes  of  his  mother. 
The  furious  intimation  of  his  father's  fate  is  one  of  those  evidences  of 
penetration  into  the  human  heart,  on  which  one  cannot  reason,  one  can 
only  feel  that  Shakespeare's  genius  is. above  all  laws  of  art.  The 
words  are  inconsequent,  they  are  unjustifiable,  but  they  are  what  Ham- 
let would  have  said,  and  it  would  be  a  reasonable  argument  that,  under 
similar  circumstances,  they  must  have  been  said,  such  actual  truth  of 
feeling  is  in  their  opposition  to  the  truth  of  fact.  I  feel  certain  that 
I  could  satisfy  you  upon  the  point  with  the  book  before  me,  because 
then  I  could  use  Shakespeare's  language  in  place  of  my  own,  which 
I  have  been  more  used  to,  and  which  I  could  apply  so  much  more 
effectually  to  my  argument.  He,  Hamlet,  moreover,  would  not  load 
his  uncle  with  all  those  terms  of  obloquy  and  vituperation,  if  his 
mother  merited  her  share  of  them.  I  have  not  time  to  write  a  more 
logical  and  sane  reply  to  your  question  ;  but  I  will  most  gladly  defer 
the  discussion  of  the  point  until  we  can  debate  it  in  full  synod  here, 
and  I  am  sure  I  shall  satisfy  you,  for,  I  repeat,  it  is  a  matter  to  feel 

1  This  anecdote  also  occurs  in  the  Reminiscences,  p.  195. 


662  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

and  not  to  reason  on.  Give  my  very  kindest  regards  to  your  husband, 
of  whom  I  hope  to  hear  continued  good  accounts.  I  hate  and  fear  all 
kinds  of  colds  and  coughs  —  I  have  too  much  reason. 

Always  believe  me, 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


28  BERKELY  SQUARE,  BRISTOL,  May  28<A,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  As  I  look  upon  the  date  of  your 
first  letter,  for  there  are  two  lying  before  me,  I  am  disposed  to  repine 
and  be  angry  with  myself,  that  it  should  have  been  so  very  long  since 
you  heard  from  me.  But  in  this  life,  there  are  few  evils  that  do  not 
carry  some  consoling  reflections  with  them ;  and  whilst  I  regret  that 
the  interval  between  my  letters  should  have  been  so  long,  I  have  a  self- 
ish satisfaction  in  learning  that  it  seems  so  to  you.  How  happy  should 
I  be  if  I  had  less  grave  reasons  for  my  long  silence,  and  that  I  had 
the  direct  confession  of  neglect  and  idleness  to  make,  with  the  confi- 
dence I  should  at  the  same  time  have  in  your  indulgence  !  But  what 
may  appear  to  distant  friends  an  idle  life  is  more  engrossed  by  cares 
and  occupations,  where  sickness  is,  than  any  but  those  who  have  ex- 
perience of  this  sad  condition  of  our  existence  can  be  aware  of.  There 
is  no  longer  regularity  or  certain  command  of  time,  when  that  sick- 
ness, which  keeps  its  attendants  and  watchers  in  constant  agitation  of 
hope  and  fear,  has  fixed  itself  in  our  abode.  How  often  is  the  hour  or 
hours,  in  which  with  lighter  spirits  any  employment  or  amusement 
might  be  undertaken,  given  up  to  lonely  silence,  in  which  with  the 
feeling  that  we  cannot  use  our  minds  over  others'  thoughts,  we  sit  and 
brood  over  our  own,  recalling  what  has  been  enjoyed,  or  contempla- 
ting the  possibility  of  what  is  to  be  feared !  This  has  been  my  con- 
dition, and  is  yet  to  be :  my  only  hope  is  God's  indulgent  mercy.  I 
have  had  occupation  too  —  in  various  ways  :  and  perhaps  it  may  seem 
strange,  that  I  did  not  make  my  acknowledgment  of  your  letter  part 
of  my  occasional  employment.  My  reason  was,  that  others  would  be 
less  considerate  and  indulgent  than  you,  and  that  therefore  I  might  be 
worldly  wise  in  escaping  reproach,  where  it  was  to  be  apprehended, 
and  in  availing  myself  of  friendship's  charity,  where  I  was  sure  it 
would  be  extended. 

You  wish  to  know  "  how  we  are  going  on :  "  my  answer  cannot  be 
counted  on  for  successive  days  ;  for  the  complexion  of  our  life  take- 
color  from  my  poor  wife's  varying  state.  At  times  we  are  encouraged  to 
sanguine  hope,  and  presently  all  the  promise  that  had  beguiled  us  seems 
taken  from  us.  All  are  well  at  home  except  the  one  whose  dangerous 
illness  makes  us  even  still  more  sensible  how  precious  she  is  to  us  all. 
You  will  see  by  my  date  that  I  only  repeat  to  you  the  substance  of 
the  reports  I  receive,  which  have  been  —  not  worse  than  I  had  reason 
to  hope.  And  I  did  not  thank  you  for  remembering  my  birthday  !  — 
and  yet  I  did,  most  fervently,  as  I  read  your  letter,  though  the  words 


LETTERS.  663 

were  not  written  down.  I  am  confident,  you  give  me  credit  for  so 
much.  Now  to  convince  you,  that,  though  no  written  answer  has  been 
returned  to  your  letter,  the  subject  of  it  has  been  in  my  mind,  I  am 
going  to  make  a  confession  that  will  amuse  you,  although  it  is  one  of 
which  I  ought  to  be  somewhat  ashamed.  Suppose  me  standing  before 
you,  with  self-convicted  looks,  the  deepest  brick-dust  blush  that  my 
complexion  can  take,  and,  at  last,  covering  my  face  with  my  hands, 
groaning  out  the  avowal,  "  I  had  never  read  '  Clarissa  Harlowe ! ' ' 
How  I  have  got  through  nearly  sixty  years  of  existence  without  this 
needful  qualification  for  admission  into  intelligent  society  and  yet 
passed  muster,  must  appear  so  strange  to  you,  that  you  will  suspect 
me  of  making  occasionally  false  pretenses  to  an  acquaintance  that  was 
above  me.  My  conscience  however  acquits  me  of  all  such  social  swin- 
dling, for  how  I  obtained  so  much  information  I  cannot  tell,  but  I  was 
not  only  acquainted  with  the  story  in  its  general  outline,  but  was  famil- 
iar with  several  of  the  characters,  and  knew  the  particulars  of  some  of 
the  most  interesting  incidents.  I  suppose  I  must  have  listened  with 
the  affected  indifference  (disguising  the  deepest  attention)  of  conscious 
ignorance,  when  the  merits  of  the  work  have  been  discussed.  You 
might  however  have  suspected  me  of  imposture,  if  I  had  replied  to 
your  reference  upon  the  vague  idea  I  had  of  the  novel ;  and  therefore 
to  be  honest,  at  the  expense  of  my  character  for  punctuality,  I  have 
read  the  eight  volumes !  How  much  therefore  have  I  to  be  grateful 
to  you  for  !  It  is  really  a  satisfaction  to  have  added  to  one's  store  of 
recollections  and  reflections,  the  maxims  and  the  characters  to  which 
you  have  opened  my  eyes.  In  regard  to  that  peculiar  merit  which 
you  attribute  to  the  book,  viz.,  the  womanly  expression  of  womanly 
feeling  in  Clarissa,  I  am  not  quite  so  certain  that  it  strikes  one  at  the 
outset ;  and  am  almost  persuaded  to  believe  that  we  fall  into  the  ad- 
mission as  we  get  involved  in  the  interest  of  the  events.  It  is  rather, 
I  think,  a  nice  point  to  determine  :  certainly,  my  mind  is  not  conclu- 
sively made  up  in  respect  to  it.  This  however  is  sure,  that  I  have 
great  pleasure  in  acknowledging  my  obligation  to  you  for  the  gratifi- 
cation of  its  perusal.  Of  the  dramatis  persona  I  think  Miss  Howe, 
bating  a  little  excess  of  woman's  first  tempter,  is  the  most  lovable. 
Clarissa  is  not  to  be  pardoned  for  her  inclining  to  such  a  perfectly  de- 
testable, I  think  disgusting,  person  as  Lovelace  —  lago  I  conceive  a 
preferable  character. 

But  I  forgot  that  I  am  wasting  my  paper,  and  your  time  if  you  con- 
descend to  read  all  this  rambling  stuff,  and  no  word  about  pleasant, 
pretty  Esther l  —  for  she  must  be  very  pretty,  having  that  beauty 
which  irradiates  even  what  might  be  formless  and  colorless,  expressive 
of  sweetness.  My  complaint  against  "  Bleak  House  "  is  the  monthly 
interval.  I  have  just  read  the  June  number  and  am  impatient  for 
July.  I  began  this  letter  at  Bristol,  where  I  have  been  lecturing 
without,  like  Thelwell,  "  being  pelted  "  —  but  am  hardly  yet  quite 
certified  that  I  may  not  have  been  guilty  of  deserving  the  tribute  for 

1  Esther  Summerson  in  Bleak  House. 


664  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

my  impertinence.  Mrs.  Macreacly  has  had  several  successive  good 
days,  and  we  believe,  and  try  to  persuade  her,  she  must  be  on  the  way 
to  recovery.  Unhappily,  she  is  not  blessed  with  a  hopeful  disposition. 
Oh !  what  a  boon  of  good  was  hope !  What  should  we  be  without 
it  ?  But  I  am  really  shocked  to  find  myself  thus  unmercifully  writing 
on.  Give  my  very  kindest  regards  to  your  husband,  and  tell  him 
that  his  turn  will  come  next,  and  that  I  will  very  soon  inflict  my  tedi- 
ousness  on  him.  I  am  always, 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


E,  DORSET,  July  1th,  1852. 

Mr  DEAR  POLLOCK, —  What  can  it  signify  how  I  have  been  de- 
terred so  long  from  acknowledging  your  last  letter  if  none  of  the 
blame  of  my  delay  can  be  imputed  to  defective  will  ?  I  have  been 
more  busy  than  to  you,  bustling  in  the  world,  I  may  seem  to  have  been ; 
and  the  intervals  of  leisure  accorded  to  me  have  been  rendered  of 
little  avail  by  the  state  of  low  spirits,  in  which  the  sad  prospects  of 
our  home  have  so  constantly  sunk  me.  I  have  been  going  to  write  to 
you  —  I  cannot  count  the  times  —  but  repeatedly  have  found  that  I 
had  not  the  heart.  You  will,  I  know,  be  glad  to  think  that  my  hand- 
writing is  an  evidence  of  change  to  brighter  views ;  but  I  am  com- 
pelled to  cast  a  damp  on  all  such  friendly  hopes.  Mrs.  Macready's 
state  of  health  continues  to  occasion  us  the  same  anxiety,  wearing 
down  the  elasticity  of  hope.  We  have  a  gleam  of  encouragement  from 
this  sunny  weather ;  but  our  expectations  have  been  so  frequently  dis- 
appointed that  we  now  distrust  these  temporary  indications  of  amend- 
ment, and  can  only  give  faith  to  what  will  seem  almost  a  miraculous 
restoration.  She  desires  her  kindest  regards  to  you  and  Mrs.  Pollock, 
and  wishes  me  to  say  that,  to  see  this  beautiful  sunshine,  and  not  to 
have  you  basking  and  idling  in  it,  gives  her  additional  cause  of  impa- 
tience with  her  unyielding  malady.  In  every  little  respite  from  suf- 
fering her  spirits  rise,  and  we  have  looked  forward  through  the  year 
with  such  earnest  hope,  that  the  loss  of  this  anticipated  happiness  is 
very  keenly  felt  by  her. 

How  much  I  participate  in  her  regrets,  and  can  but  ill  repress  my 
repinings !  I  have  had  no  holiday  since  I  saw  you,  and  this  was  to 
recompense  me  for  my  dreary  year.  To-day  we  have  every  door  and 
window  open,  and  here  I  sit  as  in  a  tent,  only  cooler,  with  those  bright 
green  fields  and  rich  woods  direct  in  prospect.  It  is  quite  a  day  to 
saunter  in  the  shade,  and  talk  about  Shakespeare,  and  rake  up  all  sol- 
acing and  strengthening  thoughts  from  the  pages  of  the  unfashionable 
poets.  But  we  will  hope  this  is  to  be,  though  now,  unhappily  for  me, 
it  is  not. 

Your  letter  to  me  was  very  interesting,  though  very  much  en- 
grossed by  politics.  Now  the  question  comes  on  —  of  what  the  coun- 
try has  to  say  to  Lord  Derby  ?  for  as  yet  no  actual  party  stands  up 


LETTERS.  665 

against  him.  The  hostility  to  him  is  hypothetical,  for  he  does  not 
seem  to  me  even  yet  to  have  distinctly  stated  what  his  purposes  are, 
and  therefore  the  question  for  or  against  must  with  many  stand  upon 
an  "  if"  —  with  those  who  are  not  directly  pledged  to  party.  There 
are  agents  at  work,  which  make  the  question  of  government  of  much 
less  importance  than  it  once  was ;  powers  in  action,  that  will  bear  on 
mankind  abote  the  control  of  individual  minds  —  the  railways,  the 
telegraph,  the  gold  fields,  and  the  inevitably  rapid  rise  of  the  colonies 
to  importance.  The  genius  to  guide,  and  to  abstain  from  intermed- 
dling or  obstructing,  is  what  we  seem  (as  I  think)  to  want.  If  Lord 
Derby  has  the  greatness  of  mind  to  act  upon  the  lesson  Colbert  re- 
ceived of  laissez  faire  he  will  be  equal  to  the  time — and  what  greater 
praise  could  political  genius  achieve?  But  it  is  much  to  expect  from 
ordinary  politicians,  who  rarely  appreciate  the  merit  of  knowing  how 
to  rely  on  what  Calhoun  termed  "  masterly  inactivity." 

We  have  no  contest  in  our  county  :  but  a  candidate  from  Sherborne 
has  started  for  Brighton,  to  the  amusement  of  all  his  townsmen.  If  he 
succeeds,  I  think  I  shall  start  at  the  next  election.  Let  me  not  forget 
to  ask  you,  if  you  think  Mr.  Babbage  likely  to  be  able  to  assist  me  in 
recommending  for  a  lecture  on  some  scientific  subject,  some  able  man, 
whose  style  is  popular,  and  whose  charge  would  be  moderate,  for  our 
little  Literary  Institution  :  its  session  begins  in  October  next,  and  con- 
tinues through  the  winter.  It  is  an  association  in  which  I  take  great 
interest,  and  for  the  advancement  of  which  I  find  great  difficulty  in 
awakening  any  ardor  among  our  slow  people.  Time  is  rushing  away 
with  me,  though  "  Bleak  House  "  makes  the  months  appear  long.  I 
suppose  you  see  poor  Forster,  who,  I  think,  must  be  getting  better. 
Remember  me  most  kindly  to  Mrs.  Pollock  —  a  most  unwilling  re- 
membrance, And  believe  me  always, 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADT. 


PLYMOUTH,  September  23d,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  POLLOCK,  —  The  event  so  long  dreaded  has  come  to 
pass.  It  is  God's  will,  and  to  this  thought  and  to  the  faith  that  there 
is  mercy  and  good  in  all  He  purposes,  I  turn  for  support  in  an  affliction 
and  under  a  bereavement  that  takes  the  sunshine  from  my  remaining 
life.  I  have  neither  heart  nor  words  to  dwell  upon  this  subject. 

You  will  say  all  that  is  most  kind  for  me  to  your  wife  and  to  Miss 
Ilerries,  and  believe  me  always,  Your  sincere  friend, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 

I  go  to  London  to-morrow. 


666  MAC  READY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

SIIERBORNE,  DORSET,  October  29th,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  Pollock,  —  My  reading  has  been  very  little  varied 
of  late.  The  time  I  have  had  out  of  school  hours  has  been  given  to 
correspondence  and  the  perusal  of  authors  who  deal  but  little  with 
works  of  the  imagination.  I  am  therefore  left  far  behind  by  the  read- 
ing world,  not  even  being  acquainted  with  the  merits  of  "  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  which  every  one  seems  to  have  read.  I  have  n6t  seen  Guizot 
upon  Shakespeare,  which,  if  you  send  to  me,  I  will  read  as  speedily  as 
I  can,  and  return  it  in  reasonable  time.  Though  I  must  confess  to 
you  I  do  not  often  derive  much  pleasure  from  the  endeavors  of  critical 
writers  to  explain  to  us  their  own  ideas  of  that  unapproachable  genius, 
or  to  teach  us  what  should  be  ours.  I  think  Dumas,  with  all  the  ex- 
travagant enthusiasm  of  his  nature,  yet  gives  but  a  truthful  summing- 
up  of  the  universal  qualities  with  which  that  mind  was  stored.  When 
I  have  looked  on  Niagara,  which  I  have  done  as  often  in  my  life  as  I 
could,  and  with  an  actually  fascinated  delight,  I  have  felt  it  to  be  an 
impertinence  to  attempt  its  description  ;  and  nothing  that  I  have  ever 
seen  on  the  subject  has  shaken  my  conviction.  My  opinions  on  the 
all  but  miraculous  power  of  Shakespeare  are  very  similar.  He  has 
always  appeared  to  me  to  be  nearest  in  affinity  to  the  creative  mind 
of  anything  earthly ;  and  I  am  disposed  to  believe  that  persons  in 
writing  upon  him  are  less  anxious  to  diffuse  and  make  more  manifest 
his  glories,  than  to  gain  a  little  luster  to  themselves  by  coming  within 
the  wide  circle  of  his  radiance.  This  is  not  a  very  good  spirit,  you 
will  think,  in  which  to  examine  the  judgment  of  M.  Guizot.  Of  all 
that  I  have  read  on  Shakespeare  I  prefer,  though  even  then  with  some 
reservations,  Goethe's  remarks  on  Hamlet  in  his  "  Wilhelm  Meister." 
Let  me  thank  you,  for  I  am  idly  rambling  on,  for  your  most  kind  in- 
quiries. We  are  wearing  time  away  in  a  monotonous,  but  I  hope  not 
altogether  an  unimproving  manner.  The  health  of  our  home  is,  thank 
God,  good,  and  day  succeeds  day  with  but  little  change  in  each  to  dis- 
tinguish it.  I  am  far  from  complaining  of  this  settled  quiet,  which 
perhaps  some  might  term  gloom  :  as  I  cannot  recall  the  past,  it  is  my 
chief  indulgence  to  enjoy  its  memories.  Our  weather  is  cold  and 
damp,  and  the  autumn  leaves  are  taking  their  deepest  tints  and  baffling 
the  labors  of  the  gardener  to  keep  his  walks  clear.  Kemember  me 
with  every  kindest  expression  of  regard  to  your  husband  ;  and  with 
my  sister's  and  Katie's  best  love,  believe  me  ever, 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


SUERBORNK,  DORSET,  March  \5th,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  For  these  five  or  six  days  past  I 
have  put  off,  to  the  next,  my  purpose,  long  delayed,  of  writing  to  you, 
in  the  hope  that  the  rheumatism,  which  has  incapacitated  me,  would 
give  way  to  patience,  and  the  more  active  remedies  I  have  been  try- 


LETTERS.  667 

ing.  To-day  I  am  out  of  pain ;  but  am  rebuked,  whilst  I  am  grat- 
ified by  the  arrival  of  your  undeserved  and  most  kind  token  of  re- 
membrance. 

You  may  readily  conceive  with  what  hesitation  I  now  speak  of  a 
future  in  this  life.  Uncertainty  and  doubt  are  ever  present  to  me  in 
every  promise.  But  still  among  those  "  whispers,"  that  hope  gives  of 
"  promised  pleasure,"  I  have  listened  with  the  greatest  delight  to  that 
which  repeats  the  probability  that  my  friend  Pollock  and  yourself 
will  make  your  villegiatura  with  us  for  at  least  some  part  of  the  sum- 
mer. So  much  has  befallen  us,  since  you  were  here,  to  cast  shadows 
on  our  walls,  that  I  cannot  hold  out  to  either  of  you  any  allurement 
beyond  "  the  air  and  skies,"  which  we  think  have  health  in  their 
breezes.  If  for  these,  and  our  rural  walks,  you  would  literally  do- 
mesticate with  us  for  a  time,  it  would  greatly  add  to  the  enjoyment 
of  my  summer.  My  Katie  will  be  at  home  to  pour  out  raptures  about 
her  Eden  to  you,  and  I  will  go  back  to  Shakespeare  for  the  disen- 
tanglement of  any  knotty  critical  question  that  may  divide  and  per- 
plex us.  For  any  effect  that  I  once  might  have  been  able  to  lend  his 
magic  verse  by  the  power  of  voice,  the  day  is  past.  The  instrument 
no  longer  obeys  the  master's  hand.  But  this  is  not  strange  in  a  world 
of  changes  and  decay.  Will  you  then  take  your  lodgings  at  Sher- 
borne  House,  and,  "  greatly  independent "  of  us  for  your  amusement, 
will  you  give  us  the  holiday  we  shall  enjoy  in  your  society  ?  You 
will  understand  me,  that  I  do  not  propose  making  strangers  of  you, 
and  scarcely,  in  the  general  acceptation,  visitors,  but  would  wish, 
that  you  should  make  up  your  minds  to  our  homely  country  home  as 
yours. 

My  hand  is  slower  than  its  wont,  and  there  is  Time's,  which  never 
has  rheumatism,  moving  rapidly  on  to  the  post  half-hour. 

Of  the  two  quotations  from  Shakespeare  and  Pope,  I  cannot  but 
think  each  admirably  adapted  to  the  respective  feeling  of  the  utterer, 
and  doubt  whether  one  was  suggested  by  the  other.  But  this  may  be 
matter  of  discussion  hereafter.  I  think  Collier  has  stumbled  upon  a 
very  precious  bundle  of  restorations,  among  which  there  may  be  mis- 
takes of  the  ear  and  misreading  of  the  handwriting,  and,  again,  differ- 
ences of  opinion  even  on  the  truth.  But  from  what  I  have  read,  I 
think  the  discovery  a  great  boon  to  the  readers  of  Shakespeare.  I 
have  seen  Tennyson's  corrections  and  additions,  and  think  them  very 
great  improvements  to  a  very  noble  ode. 

Here  is  a  second  summons,  you  will  say,  in  good  time. 

I  was  much  interested  by  your  account  of  Hare-Townsend,  and 
Forster  —  but  that  too  must  be  laid  upon  the  same  shelf  with  "  the 
hand  across  the  vast." 

I  shall  be  in  London  next  month,  but  on  a  hurried  visit  of  business. 
I  shall  not  fail  however  to  see  you. 

Remember  me  affectionately  to  your  husband  ;  and  with  my  sister's 
love,  and  all  due  fulfillment  of  your  messages,  I  hastily  but  most 
heartily  subscribe  myself,  Most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


668  MACREADY  AV  RETIREMENT. 

SUERBORNE,  DORSET,  June  23d,  1853. 

MY  DKAU  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  These  two  last  days  the  aching  of 
my  eyes  (from  looking  long  on  paper,  and  from  the  said  eyes  being  so 
much  the  worse  for  wear)  has  obliged  me  to  defer  my  acknowledg- 
ment of  your  interesting  letter  of  the  12th-13th,  which  I  had  de- 
cided should  be  answered  to-day  without  fail,  when,  lo  !  your  brief 
note  comes  as  a  sort  of  reminder  to  me  of  my  long  delay.  Well, 
but  now  I  must  settle  this  last  account  first.  We  have  been  counting 
on  you  for  the  first  week  in  July  ;  but  shall  be  delighted  to  have  you 
at  your  own  time,  for  what  is  most  agreeable  and  convenient  to  you 
both  will  be  most  in  accordance  with  my  wishes.  You  know  it  is 
a  sort  of  "  moated  grange "  to  which  you  venture  yourselves,  and 
to  which  you  give  a  pleasure,  that  its  uncheery  gloom  cannot  hope  to 
reflect  to  you.  Fix,  therefore,  your  own  date  to  your  arrival,  and  I 
will  mark  it  or  "  set "  it  with  golden  letters  in  my  calendar. 

Your  account  of  the  Cologne  minstrels  almost  drew  me  up  to  Lon- 
don :  if  I  could  have  fashioned  any  excuse  of  a  grave  kind  that  would 
have  justified  me  to  myself  in  running  away  for  three  or  four  days,  I 
certainly  should  have  been  found  among  the  happy  number  who  lent 
their  ravished  ears  to  the  music  you  describe  so  enthusiastically,  and 
which  seems  to  reach  my  idea  of  the  perfection  of  the  power  of  har- 
mony. But  u  fate  has  fast  bound  me,"  and  I  must  be  satisfied  with 
listening  to  the  birds  around  me,  and  finding  melody  in  the  cadences 
of  Shakespeare's  and  Milton's  lines.  This  is  all  the  music  that  our 
Boeotian,  not  Arcadian,  town  can  afford.  You  will  let  me  know  when 
we  may  expect  you,  how  soon  after  the  7th  of  July.  Katie  and 
Willie  are  both  with  me,  and  the  latter  much  improved  in  health  by 
his  absence.  To-day  is  the  first  of  summer  we  have  had,  and  is  really 
one  which  we  might  pass  under  heaven's  roof.  London  will  begin 
to  feel  very  prison-like,  I  should  imagine,  if,  as  I  hope  it  may,  this 
weather  continues.  Our  freer  country  air  will  then,  I  trust,  be  more 
welcome  to  you.  I  remain  ever, 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


BOURNEMOUTH,  H.vyrs,  Aujust  9th,  1853. 

Mr  DEAR  POLLOCK,  —  In  my  desire  to  be  furnished  with  abun- 
dant gifts  to  my  adopted  institution,  for  so  the  apathy  of  our  Sher- 
bornian  magnates  will  justify  me  in  calling  it,  I  took  advantage  of 
yesterday's  post  to  inclose  a  message  of  inquiry  to  you  in  my  hasty 
acknowledgment  of  your's  and  Mrs.  Pollock's  kindness ;  and  to-day  I 
follow  it  with  my  apologies  for  pressing  on  you  so  startling  an  invita- 
tion in  so  abrupt  a  manner.  This,  however,  I  know  you  will  readily 
excuse.  Whether  you  will  as  readily  feel  disposed  to  come  and  tell 
my  rustic  friends  who  Dante  was,  what  were  his  aims  and  objects  of 
his  life,  and  how  they  were  frustrated,  on  what  pinnacle  of  fame  he 


LETTERS.  6G9 

stands,  and  what  was  the  kind  of  work  that  placed  him  there  —  "  that 
is  the  question."  If  my  lungs  had  held  good,  and  my  head  were  equal 
to  the  employment,  I  should  apply  their  powers  in  this  way,  and  en- 
deavor "  to  scatter  plenty  "  of  knowledge  among  my  less  fortunate  fel- 
low-men. But  I  am  a  worn-out  instrument,  and  have  to  content  my- 
self with  the  manifestation  of  my  will. 

I  was  very  much  interested  by  your  remarks  on  the  German  Ham- 
let. With  much  attention  to  the  various  criticisms  I  have  seen  on 
Devrient,  I  am  disposed  to  regard  him  as  a  very  second-rate  mind. 
You  characterize  his  performance  as  "  frigid  and  tiresome."  There  is 
a  volume  in  those  two  words.  The  morbidly  acute  sensibility  and  sen- 
sitiveness of  Hamlet  to  be  frozen  up  and  stagnated  in  a  declaiming  and 
attitudinizing  statue  or  automaton  leaves  room  for  no  further  remark, 
but  induces  me  to  submit  to  you,  whether  you  have  not  conceded  more 
to  the  actor  than  he  can  rightly  claim  in  pronouncing  "  his  under- 
standing of  the  character  to  be  correct."  We  apply  these  terms  of 
praise  (and  they  are  high  praise)  erroneously,  I  think,  to  a  man  who, 
in  his  delivery,  shows  us  he  understands  the  words  he  is  uttering.  But 
to  fathom  the  depths  of  character,  to  trace  its  latent  motives,  to  feel 
its  finest  quiverings  of  emotion,  to  comprehend  the  thoughts  that  are 
hidden  under  words,  and  thus  possess  one's  self  of  the  actual  mind  of 
the  individual  man,  is  the  highest  reach  of  the  player's  art,  and  is  an 
achievement  that  I  have  discerned  but  in  few.  Kean  —  when  under 
the  impulse  of  his  genius  he  seemed  to  clutch  the  whole  idea  of  the 
man  —  was  an  extraordinary  instance  among  those  possessing  the 
faculty  of  impersonation.  But  if  he  missed  the  character  in  his  first 
attempt  at  conception,  he  never  could  recover  it  by  study.  Mrs.  Sid- 
dons,  in  a  loftier  style  and  to  a  greater  extent,  had  this  intuitive 
power.  Indeed,  she  was  a  marvel  —  I  might  almost  say  a  miracle. 
John  Kemble  is  greatly  overrated,  I  think,  by  the  clever  men  who,  in 
their  first  enthusiasm,  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  skirts  of  his  glory. 
Neither  in  Hamlet,  nor  Macbeth,  nor  even  in  the  passionate  parts  of 
Coriolanus  did  he  give  me  the  power  of  belief  in  him.  He  was  very 
clever  in  points  and  magnificent  in  person.  But  what  am  I  doing,  and 
where  have  I  been  led  ?  —  reading  you  a  dull  discourse  on  matters 
that  you  must  be  very  indifferent  about.  Well,  as  FalstafF  says  of 
himself  I  may  say  of  the  Prince  of  Denmark,  "  I  have  much  more  to 
say  on  behalf  of  that  same  Hamlet,"  but  I  cannot  help  smiling  as  I 
think  of  the  much  already  said. 

I  grow  very  angry  in  turning  to  politics,  and,  hating  war  as  I  do, 
cannot  help  wishing  that  crafty  and  grasping  barbarian  Czar  may 
have  his  battalions  pushed  into  the  Pruth,  Cronstadt  and  Odessa  beaten 
about  his  ears,  and  some  dexterous  Orloff  afterwards  found  to  relieve 
mankind  from  his  tyrannous  machinations  !  You  see  what  a  san- 
guinary politician  I  am !  I  must  admit  a  most  cordial  abhorrence  of 
Russian  Czars  and  Czarinas,  from  Peter  the  Brute,  inclusive,  down  to 
this  worthy  descendant,  who  regards  himself  as  having  a  mission  to 
stop  the  march  of  human  progress !  Quousque  tandem  ?  I  am  look- 


670  MAC  READY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

ing  for  Forster  in  about  a  month,  though  he  tells  me  he  has  fallen  lame 
again  since  his  return  from  Lillies. 

I  am  ever  always,  dear  Pollock, 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


SHERBORNE,  DORSET,  August  2lst,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  POLLOCK,  —  I  am  very  hardly  driven  for  time,  having 
heen  obliged  to  make  the  whole  afternoon  one  of  business,  and  my 
reluctance  to  lose  another  post  (for  I  wished  to  write  two  days  ago) 
will  not  let  me  defer  to  to-morrow  what  I  can  do,  though  so  hastily, 
to-day. 

Imprimis,  will  you  be  the  medium  for  carrying  my  best  thanks  to 
Mrs.  Pollock  for  the  very  elegant  volume  I  received  yesterday,  which 
I  shall  always  greatly  prize  and  shall  read  —  indeed,  am  reading. 

Next,  I  have  sent  to  Montagu  Square  two  small  books,  one,  Basil 
Montagu's  "  Selections,"  for  Mrs.  Pollock,  and  the  other,  Feltham's 
"  Resolves  "  for  yourself,  if  you  will  gratify  me  by  accepting  it.  There 
is  much  good  thought  in  it,  and  therefore  much  to  set  you  thinking. 
They  are  both  very  favorite  books  of  mine,  to  which  I  very  often 
recur. 

Now,  on  the  matter  of  the  lecture,  you  take  a  more  profound  view 
of  the  subject  than  I  desire.  I  should  like  my  friends  to  be  awakened 
to  the  fact  of  the  existence  of  such  a  man  as  Dante  —  who,  if  they 
ever  heard  the  word,  is  a  myth  to  them !  Now,  for  them  to  know 
there  was  such  a  person  —  to  have  an  outline  of  his  life  —  to  know 
that  he  created  a  style  of  poem  defying  imitation  —  a  rapid  description 
of  the  plan  of  the  work,  etc.,  etc.,  would  be  a  great  gain  to  them,  and 
might  tempt  some  of  them  to  read  his  translated  work,  and  would 
greatly  assist  them,  in  meeting  with  any  mention  of  his  name,  to  com- 
prehend the  purpose  of  its  introduction.  There  must  always  be  a 
beginning,  and  you  might,  in  ruffling  your  feathers  here,  ascertain  your 
strength  of  wing,  and  test  your  own  powers  in  this  very  useful  exercise 
of  benevolence.  Of  the  interest  of  the  subject  I  have  no  doubt.  The 
journey  is  a  penance,  I  admit.  In  that  particular  you  must  weigh 
your  powers  of  self-sacrifice,  for  I  have  not  the  effrontery  to  go  beyond 
the  assurance  of  what  a  gratification  it  would  be  to  all  of  us,  and  what 
a  valuable  addition  it  would  be  on  our  list  of  lectures.  Will  your 
patriotism  sustain  you  in  the  effort  ?  I  should  like  to  include  your 
name  in  our  "  honored  list "  of  gratuitous  contributors. 

Will  you  give  me  a  line  to  Bournemouth,  where  my  family  still  are, 
excepting  Katie  and  Benvenuta?  I  go  to  them  on  Tuesday.  Will 
you  give  my  very  kindest  regards  to  Mrs.  Pollock ;  and  with  my 
daughters'  love  to  her,  and  mine  to  your  children, 

J  remain  always, 

Most  sincerely  yours, 
W.  C.  MACREADY. 


LETTERS.  671 

BOURNEMOUTH,  HANTS,  August  26th,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  POLLOCK,  —  Your  letter  with  its  most  gratifying  pros- 
pect—  soon  I  hope  to  consolidate  into  a  promise  —  of  your  aid  to 
our  infant  institution  was  welcomed  by  me  last  night  with  especial 
gratification.  The  information  you  would  convey,  and  the  enlighten- 
ment your  discourse  would  give  to  our  members  on  a  subject  of  which 
at  present  they  are  in  complete  ignorance,  would  be  most  desirable. 
If  you  befriend  us,  I  shall  endeavor  to  awaken  the  attention  of  our 
hearers  to  this  and  subjects  of  similar  interest,  in  anticipation  of  your 
visit. 

Our  session  opens  in  October  and  extends  to  the  next  Easter. 

Your  sojourn  in  that  delightful  mountain  tract  calls  up  many  de- 
lightful associations  and  memories,  and  makes  me  wish  much  —  very 
much  —  that  I  could  accompany  you  over  Skiddaw  and  through  Bor- 
rodale,  and  along  those  lovely  lakes :  but  my  ramblings  of  pleasure 
are  over,  and  I  must  be  content,  which  I  am,  with  calling  up  the  vision 
of  the  past,  and  "  chewing  the  food  of  sweet  and  bitter  fancies  "  in 
"  the  sundry  contemplation  of  my  travels."  See  what  it  is  to  have 
been  all  one's  life  speaking  other's  language  !  It  still  clings  to  me, 
a  vile  habit,  but  one  which  I  cannot  hope  to  live  to  cure. 

I  return  to-morrow  to  Sherborne.     You  will  not  forget  my  recom- 
mendation of  this  place  to  any  friend  needing  a  genial  English  climate. 
I  remain  always  arid  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADT. 

My  kind  regards  to  Mr.  SpedJing. 


SHERBORNE,  DORSET,  October  1st,  1853. 

Your  letter,  my  dear  Mrs.  Pollock,  led  me  "  away,  away,"  among 
the  hills  and  by  the  lake  sides  of  that  lovely  region  you  seem  to  have 
been  so  well  enjoying ;  and  I  could  not  forbear  from  thanking  you  in- 
deed for  your  nattering  wish  that  I  had  been  of  your  party,  though  the 
chances  of  such  indulgence  seem  passing  altogether  from  me.  It  is  in 
memory  I  must  bring  before  me  "  the  tall  rock,  the  mountain,  and  the 
deep  and  gloomy  wood,"  for  I  see  little  prospect  of  my  ever  traveling 
again  to  them  ;  but  then,  like  poor  Ruth,  I  may  say,  they  "  are  all 
with  me  in  my  cell ;  "  and  when  one  paints  in  words,  as  you  do,  they 
return  with  all  the  vividness  of  color  and  distinctness  of  form  that  the 
objects  of  a  landscape  receive  from  a  bright  shower  of  rain.  There 
are  very  many  things  of  beauty  in  the  worlds  of  nature  and  of  art  that 
I  had  hoped  to  have  been  able  to  treasure  up  among  those  precious 
objects  which  once  seen  are  possessed  forever ;  but  the  circle  is  nar- 
rowing around  me,  and  I  must  be  content  to  look  out  into  the  far  dis- 
tances beyond  without  the  power  of  overstepping  its  bounds.  Still  it 
is  delightful  to  sympathize  with  others'  enjoyment,  and  exercise  one's 
imagination  in  bodying  forth  their  descriptions. 


672  MAC  READY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

Willie  sailed  on  Saturday  evening  last,  and  I  fear  had  to  encounter 
the  awful  gale  on  Sunday  ;  but  I. trust  by  this  time  he  is  safe  in  Ma- 
deira'. He  was  in  very  good  spirits,  and  his  health  had  been  much 
benefited  by  his  stay  at  Bournemouth,  which  place  I  liked  better  than 
any  of  the  winter  residences  recommended  to  invalids  that  I  have 
visited.  But  then  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  weather  was 
charming  whilst  I  was  there.  The  soil  is  sand,  through  which  the 
rain  drains,  as  fast  as  it  falls,  therefore  it  is  very  dry.  You  are  no 
doubt  aware  that  the  Consumptive  Hospital  is  in  course  of  building 
there.  I  have  also  been  at  a  very  out-of-the-way  place  called  Sal- 
combe,  to  the  south  of  Kingsbridge,  in  Devonshire,  where  the  aloe 
grows  through  the  winter,  and  the  geraniums  are  unprotected.  I  liked 
that  as  a  residence  for  invalids  very  much ;  but  fancy  is  so  arbitrary 
on  the  choice  of  place,  so  much  depending  on  the  peculiar  state  of 
health,  on  the  direction  of  the  taste  or  humors  and  even  accident,  that 
I  am  reluctant  to  recommend,  where  the  motive  for  seeking  change  is 
so  serious  a  one.  I  have  also  been  to  inspect  Falmouth  ;  and  I 
thought  that  the  opposite  village,  called  Flushing,  was  among  the 
most  desirable  of  all  those  places  to  which  I  had  gone  in  search  of 
climate. 

Shall  you  not  be  your  husband's  companion,  when  "  full  of  great 
aims  and  bent  on  bold  emprise  "  he  issues  forth  to  enlighten  our  Dor- 
setshire boors  ?  I  inclose  you  the  announcement  of  our  next  session 
for  him,  which  you  will  please  to  give  with  my  very  kindest  regards. 

The  line  about  which  you  inquire,  is  Knowles's :  you  will  find  it  in 
the  fifth  act  of  "  Virginius." 

I  have  the  loves  of  our  round  table  to  deliver  to  you,  having  faith- 
fully distributed  your  messages  to  all. 

With  love  to  your  little  boys, 

I  remain, 

Always  and  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADV. 


SHERBORNE,  DORSET,  January  3d,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  POLLOCK,  —  It  is  a  very  great  pleasure  to  have  to  thank 
you  for  the  very  elegant  volume  1  which  came  to  me  by  this  morning's 
post,  and  I  do  so  with  the  full  enjoyment  of  possessing  so  pleasing  a 
memorial  of  a  highly  valued  friend,  and  with  the  prospect  of  much 
gratification  in  making  acquaintance  with  its  contents,  and  of  profiting 
by  its  assistance  in  obtaining  a  better  understanding  of  the  original.  It 
is  beautifully  got  up,  and  in  the  glances  I  have  taken  I  rejoice  to  find 
my  old  young  friend  Scharf  entitling  himself  so  justly  to  your  praise. 

We  are  undergoing  the  process  of  being  snowed  up  or  snowed  in, 
which  must  be  the  result  to  us  of  this  continued  Polar  weather.  We 
have  no  strict  Police  nor  strict  authorities  to  keep  our  pavements  clear 
of  the  daily  accumulation,  and  must  very  soon  be  literally  in  a  state  of 
blockade. 

1  The  Editor's  Translation  of  Dante's  Divina  Commedia. 


LETTERS.  673 

I  am  in  arrear  of  the  world's  news  these  many  days,  and  do  not 
know  whether  Turks  or  Russians  are.  uppermost ;  but  if  wishes  could 
in  aught  prevail,  I  should  be  glad  the  Czar  were  at  the  deepest  bottom 
of  either  of  his  seas,  Black  or  White. 

With  all  the  New  Year's  best  and  kindest  greetings  from  all  here  to 
all  with  you, 

I  remain, 

Always  your  sincere  arid  attached  friend, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


SHERBORNE,  DORSET,  Januanj  13th,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK, —  I  have  been  reposing  these  five  or  six 
weeks  past  in  the  belief  that  I  should  go  to  London  in  the  latter  part 
of  January.  You  have  added  greatly  to  the  inducements  I  have  to  de- 
sire the  journey,  but  at  the  last  moment  I  find  myself  unable  to  absent 
myself  from  home.  I  have  written  to  some  friends,  who  are  contem- 
plating their  return  to  America,  to  know  what  extent  of  time  will  be 
granted  to  my  chance  and  desire  of  seeing  them,  as  at  present  I  am 
bound  down  to  home.  Now  you  make  my  disappointment  more  bitter 
in  proposing  to  me  a  pleasure  I  should  so  much  covet,  and  yet  which  I 
cannot  accept.  Do  you  ever  pass  a  little  sweeper  at  a  crossing,  who 
replies  to  your  assurance,  that  you  have  no  money  in  your  pocket, 
"  Thank  you,  ma'am,  all  the  same."  Think  of  that  effort  of  virtue  in 
the  poor  little  fellow's  patience  under  the  disappearance  of  the  vision 
of  the  penny  that  he  had  seen  in  your  face  as  you  approached  him,  and 
you  will  be  able  to  appreciate  my  regretful  gratitude  in  thanking  you 
for  the  pleasure  I  must  relinquish.  I  fancy  Johnny  and  Butty  have 
hooping-cough,  but  it  is  not  very  serious.  Johnny  had  your  message, 
and  returns  you  his  best  love :  Katie  and  my  sister  desire  theirs,  and 
with  mine  to  your  nursery  ;  and  kindest  regards  to  your  husband  and 
Miss  Maria  Herries, 

I  remain, 

Always  and  most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  'C.  MACIIEADY. 


SHERBORNE,  DORSET,  May  I9lh,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  It  was  my  intention  to  have  written 
to  you  this  morning  my  thanks  and  lamentations  in  reply  to  the  notice 
you  so  kindly  sent  me  of  the  Cologne  Choral  Union.  It  was  a  mes- 
sage of  despair  to  me  —  ogni  speranza  was  excluded,  as  the  fatal  dates 
shut  the  door  upon  the  last ;  but  the  kindness  of  your  thought  for  me 
was  not  thrown  away,  and  most  truly  did  I  feel  obliged  by  your  en- 
deavor to  assist  my  wishes.  The  impediments  in  my  way  may  per- 
haps cause  me  more  obstinately  to  desire  to  overcome  them,  but  what- 
ever may  give  rise  to  the  intensely  earnest  longing  I  have  to  hear  this 
music  I  know  not ;  the  fact  is,  1  have  never  known  an  appetite  so 
43 


674  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

strong  for  the  enjoyment  of  any  work  of  art ;  but  the  thought  of  it 
must  be  stored  in  that  repository  of  dreams,  where  a  world  of  imagined 
delights  and  beauties  have  been  laid  up  before.  I  shall  never  hear  this 
touching  harmony.  Very,  very  warmly  do  I  thank  you  for  all  you 
have  said  to  me  about  my  dear  Katie,  and  this  is  only  to  be  added  to 
the  grateful  utterance  of  my  acknowledgments  to  you  and  my  friend 
Pollock  for  your  attentions  to  her,  which  she  fully  appreciated  and 
greatly  enjoyed.  In  consequence  of  your  report  of  the  attention  given 
to  her  music,  I  have  written  to  her  to-day,  extending  to  her  the  per- 
mission to  take  some  lessons  in  singing,  and  I  make  no  doubt  she  will 
wish  to  consult  you  on  the  master  to  whom  she  should  apply.  I  am 
not  satisfied  with  the  distinctness  of  her  enunciation  ;  and  I  am  confi- 
dent I  am  right  in  regard  to  the  pure  and  spontaneous  effect,  if  I  ex- 
press myself  as  I  wish  by  that  term,  which  I  am  anxious  she  should 
produce  by  singing  the  words  as  well  as  the  air  of  her  songs.  One 
seldom  hears  anything  of  Prince  Albert  that  does  not  raise  one's  opin- 
ion of  his  understanding :  of  human  nature  we  cannot  venture  to  say 
more,  for  princes  are  but  men,  but  unhappily  for  them  and  mankind, 
men  will  not  think  so.  Will  you  say  to  Pollock,  with  my  very  kindest 
regards,  that  I  have  not  heard  from  Milnes,  nor  is  it  necessary,  if  he 
has  only  mentioned  the  application  to  the  county  Members  ?  The 
Bishop  is  my  principal  care,  it  is  with  him  that  I  hope  to  smother  Mr. 
Parsons.  As  I  have  but  four  days  in  town,  I  cannot  be  yet  aware  of 
what  engagements  Dickens  may  make  for  me,  but  if  I  have  a  vacant 
morning  I  shall  be  truly  delighted  in  devoting  it  to  the  Abbey,  and 
showing  you  a  face  radiant  with  expression. 

Believe  me, 

Always  most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.   MAC  HEADY. 


SHERBORNE,  DORSET,  July  \lth,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK, — Whilst  you  were  writing  to  me  your 
very  pleasant  letter,  full  of  good  news  of  your  own  home,  and  of  inter- 
esting reports  from  the  houses  of  your  friends,  I  was  directing  to  you 
and  the  select  few  that  would  care  for  such  a  remembrance,  the  news- 
paper account  of  our  sayings  and  doings  in  our  Institution's  new  home 
on  the  previous  Monday.  If  you  read  it  through,  which  I  do  not  mean 
to  imply  was  to  be  expected,  you  would  not  have  passed,  I  feel  con- 
fident, without  a  word  or  two  of  approval,  perhaps  of  interested  curi- 
osity as  to  the  speaker,  the  address  of  Mr.  Avery.  lie  is  the  Wesleyan 
minister  he^e,  and  I  assure  you,  in  addressing  that  very  association, 
stands  in  very  bold  relief  by  the  side  of  all  the  Established  Church 
parsons  of  our  little  town.  Perhaps  you  will  say  that  Methodist  par- 
sons are  but  a  very  poor  return  for  your  animated  description  of  an 
evening  spent  between  Sir  Edward  and  Robert  Lytton  ;  but  what  am 
I  to  do  ?  Fate,  that  has  tossed  my  frail  bark  for  so  many,  many  years, 


LETTERS.  675 

has  at  last  stranded  it  upon  a  bleak  and  barren  shore,  where  Methodist 
parsons  seem  the  only  real  flowers  that  bloom.  I  shall  send  you,  when 
printed,  a  more  faithful  report,  in  which  will  be  included  Pollock's 
letter  —  published  for  the  benefit  of  the  anti-Institutionists,  as  well  as 
for  the  reference  of  the  good  men  and  true.  I  anticipate  great  things 
from  Robert  Lytton,  and  am  therefore  gratified  that  he  should  bear 
me  in  mind.  Your  defense  or  eulogy  on  Werter  does  not  surprise  me, 
for  I  can  easily  imagine  the  author  of  "  Wilhelm  Meister "  uttering 
profound  truths  in  such  simple  phrase  and  evoked  by  such  ordinary 
occurrences  that  they  might  readily  escape  less  penetrating  observers. 
Who  was  the  Greek  philosopher  that,  in  a  little  homely  cabin,  called 
to  those  in  the  storm  outside,  "  Come  in,  for  here,  too,  there  are  gods  !  " 
Not  every  mind  could  feel  and  perceive  the  great  truth  —  and  so  it 
often  is  with  the  deep  humanity  and  sometimes  divinity  that  lies  be- 
neath the  surface  of  a  simple  saying.  But  you  will  say  to  me,  why 
will  you  keep  company  with  those  dreadful  Methodist  parsons,  for  it  is 
they  who  give  you  the  habit  of  preaching  ?  Well,  I  have  done.  The 
cat  is  as  bad  as  his  namesake  for  roaming  about  Verona's  streets.  He 
is  a  most  independent  gentleman.  Next  week  I  expect  to  be  in  town, 
and  will  not  fail  to  make  an  early  arrangement  with  you  for  a  visit  to 
the  Abbey,  and  anything  in  the  way  there  or  from.  Katie  is  very 
diligent,  really  so,  in  respect  to  her  music  —  quite  in  earnest.  She 
sends  her  love,  with  those  of  Auntie  and  the  tribe's.  With  kindest 
regards  to  your  husband,  I  am  always, 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


SHERBORNE,  DORSET,  August  5th,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  — The  pleasure  and  interest  your  letter 
afforded  was  deserving  a  more  prompt  acknowledgment,  and  therefore 
there  is  another  sin  of  neglect  added  to  the  many  that  have  gone  before 
it,  for  which  it  is  waste  of  time  and  paper  to  apologize.  You  have 
time  to  read,  and  to  write  too  —  I  have  time  for  neither.  You  have 
made  me  read  "  The  Forest  Sanctuary,"  which  is  another  obligation 
in  which  I  register  myself  your  debtor,  for  it  is  beautiful  exceedingly, 
awakening  the  loftiest,  tenderest,  and  truest  feelings.  I  say  truest,  in 
reference  to  the  religious  charity  it  inculcates,  whilst  the  faith  of  the 
writer  is  evidently  fixed  as  the  martyrs.  In  the  strength  of  Mrs. 
Heman's  compositions  I  think  the  feminine  characteristics  of,  purity 
and  grace  are  never  out  of  sight  —  she  gives  pictures  of  true  heroism, 
but  it  is  a  woman's  voice  we  seem  to  hear  uttering  the  noblest  and 
most  touching  sentiments.  To  me  this  is  a  great  charm ;  and  makes 
me  place  her  so  far  before  the  semi-masculine  cleverness  of  Miss  Mit- 
ford,  and  give  her  the  preference  over  the  ponderous  and  often  stately 
verse  of  Joanna  Baillie.  My  pencil  has  been  very  active  in  reading 
"  The  Forest  Sanctuary,"  and  the  volume  remains  on  the  table  that  I 


676  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

may  go  completely  through  it.  The  death  of  Leonor  is  beautiful,  and 
that  of  Inez  most  touching,  indeed  it  is  a  delightful  book  —  to  make 
one  very  sad.  But  I  read  the  twentieth  chapter  of  "  Zadig  "  after  it, 
and  that  gave  me  consolation.  I  have  never  been  able  to  penetrate 
into  the  Arcadia  of  Sir  Philip  Sidne3r.  That  has  been  reserved  with 
other  works  that  I  wish  to  make  acquaintance  with,  and  that  I  intend 
to  read  ;  but  believe,  if  I  ever  do,  it  will  be  in  Heaven.  Have  you 
looked  at  the  last  cruel  number  of  "  Hard  Times."  The  heart-break- 
ing conclusion  of  it  should  justify  our  sending  a  round-robiu  remon- 
strance to  Dickens.  I  have  just  returned  from  the  salle,  and  brought 
a  whole  packet  of  loves  to  you  from  the  whole  party :  among  them 
Johnny  sends  his  "  best,  best,"  and  thinks  you  "very  kind  to  give  him 
his  cat,"  and  wishes  you  to  be  told,  that  "  Tibby  is  very  good."  I 
cannot  leave  this  family  party  without  relating  to  you  au  evidence 
that  Lillie  gave  yesterday  of  her  proficiency  in  the  study  of  natural 
history.  Butty  was  saying  that  she  "  should  like  to  have  a  mare." 
Lilly  very  confidently  took  her  up  —  "  Why,  .you  don't  know  what  a 
mare  is  !  —  A  mare  is  an  old  she-horse,  generally  blind  of  one  eye." 
Should  not  Owen  have  this  description  of  the  animal  ? 

Believe  me, 

Always  most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


SHERBORXE,  DORSET,  October  2d,  1834. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  I  have  been  anxiously  desiring  to 
write  to  you,  for  I  have  been  wishing  very  much  to  have  news  of  you, 
most  especially  upon  the  health  of  my  friend  Pollock,  of  whom  your 
late  accounts  have  been  very  unsatisfactory.  Most  earnestly  do  I  hope 
that  he  has  found  at  Tunbridge  Wells  an  invigorating  atmosphere,  and 
that  the  languor,  under  which  he  was  suffering  at  Lyme  (with  the  dis- 
tress of  which  I  can  so  feelingly  sympathize)  has  disappeared  under 
the  bracing  effect  of  free  air  and  a  more  open  country.  Since  I 
dispatched  my  hurried  lines  to  you,  I  have  parted  with  my  dear  Willie, 
and,  you  may  readily  imagine,  the  preparation  for  such  an  event,  the 
separation,  and  the  subsequent  need  of  repose  of  thought,  would  leave 
little  time  or  disposition  for  employment  of  any  other  kind.  I  am 
here  again,  moving  on  in  the  old  customary  groove,  downward  and 

downward  on  the  inclined  plane  that  leads  to .     How  much  I 

wish  that  I  could,  like  you,  extract  amusement  from  British  theaters, 
and  criticism  on  journeymen  playwrights.  But  I  begin  to  find  that 
retirement  must  be  with  me  almost  perfect  vegetatidn.  There  is  ex- 
cellent sense  in  the  exhortation  of  Burns,  "  Let  us  do  or  die ; "  for  the 
torpid  action  of  retirement  or  old  age  is  a  kind  of  lingering  out  of 
existence,  which  I  find  "  weary,  stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable."  But  I 
forget  that  I  am  intruding  my  complainings  upon  you,  which  are  in 
truth  merely  repinings  at  my  own  incurable  laziness,  which  allows 
time  to  pass  so  unimproved  by  me. 


LETTERS.  677 

Did  I  tell  you  in  my  few  lines  from  Lyme  of  the  mistake  you  had 
fallen  into  in  respect  to  Richard  Cumberland  and  the  publisher  of  the 
collected  plays  you  had  been  devouring  ?  —  a  man  who,  if  my  mem- 
ory does  not  betray  me,  was  under  prosecution  for  some  questionable 
publications,  and  who  took  up  the  resolution  of  "  reforming  altogether  " . 
his  previous  mode  of  business  upon  his  purchase  of  the  copyright  of — 

I  think  —  "  The  Fatal  Dowry."     What  would  Miss have  said  to 

you  for  so  confounding  the  Terence  and  the  Curll  of  our  times !  You 
will  be  pleased  to  know  that  Willie  left  England  in  excellent  spirits, 
rejoicing  in  improved  health,  and  cheerfully  surveying  the  opening  of 
a  prospect  to  exertion  before  him.  His  berth  on  board  a  very  fine 
ship  was  all,  in  point  of  convenience,  he  could  desire,  and  he  met  one 
of  his  own  term  at  Haileybury  on  board,  bound  for  Calcutta.  It  was 
no  uninteresting  sign  of  the  times  to  observe  on  board  Lord  Lothian, 
who  has  lately  taken  a  double  first-class  at  Oxford,  and  who  is  now  on 
his  way  to  make  a  tour  in  India,  and  see  himself  the  countries  for 
which  he  may  be  called  to  legislate  —  how  very  good  !  We  have  got 
a  new  vicar,  on  whom  Katie  and  I  are  just  going  to  call.  Katie 
desires  her  best  love  to  you,  in  which  she  is  joined  by  Auntie,  Johnny, 
and  the  tribe.  Tyb  is  thriving.  With  love  to  the  lesser  ones, 

I  remain, 

Sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACK E AD Y. 

P.  S.  —  Johnny  desires  me  to  say  that  "  Pussy  is  very  well,  but 
once  he  was  ill." 


SHERBORNE,  February  ~th,  1855. 

Mr  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  That  I  am  the  most  dilatory  of  your 
correspondents  I  feel  certain,  which  would  seem  to  argue  one  of  the 
least  grateful,  but  that  I  deny,  in  the  Egyptian  Queen's  own  language, 
u  up  to  the  hearing  of  the  gods."  You  know  I  have  confessed  to  you 
my  failing :  I  am  always  busy,  or  seeming  so,  always  oppressed  with 
affairs,  because  I  economize  my  time  so  ill,  and  am  such  a  victim  to 
the  varying  state  of  my  spirits.  I  have  been  desiring  to  thank  you 
especially  for  your  last  letter.  On  a  previous  occasion  the  interposi- 
tion of  your  counsel  preserved  me  from  the  sin  of  omitting  to  do  what 
ought  to  be  done,  viz.,  giving  the  reading  here  which  I  had  intended 
to  give  ;  and  your  last  remonstrance  on  my  angry  purpose  of  quitting 
the  Institution  has  made  me  sensible  of  the  error  of  my  ways,  and  sat- 
isfied me  that  it  is  my  duty  to  remain  and  lend  it  all  possible  support. 
I  cannot  help  laughing,  regarding  myself  as  a  gray-haired  Achilles, 
seized  by  the  well-timed  grasp  of  wisdom's  goddess,  and  brought  to  a 
sense  of  duty  by  her  admonition.  You  will  doubtless  remember  Dry- 
den's  translation  of  the  passage,  with  the  two  lines,  the  grandeur  and 
beauty  of  which  our  friend  Forster  has  always  such  delight  in  dwelling 
on : 

"  He  said  ;  with  surly  faith  believed  her  word. 
And  in  the  sheath,  reluctant,  plunged  the  sword." 


G78  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

My  faith  is  not  surly,  but  hearty,  entire,  and  in  the  best  humor  ;  so 
there  is  no  alloy  to  the  satisfaction  you  will  have  in  learning  the  suc- 
cess of  your  intervention. 

I  was  very  much  interested  in  your  account  of  Bobo's  introduction 
to  the  mimic  scene,  and  very  glad  to  learn  that  his  imagination  was  so 
impressed  and  kindled  by  the  actions  and  passion  brought  under  his 
observation. 

From  what  you  have  told  me  of  Robson,  I  think  it  is  much  to  be 
regretted  that  he  appeared  after  the  schools  of  acting  had  been  broken 
up.  In  the  regular  drama,  you  may  rely  upon  it,  with  so  much  genius, 
limited  as  its  range  appears,  he  would  have  identified  himself  witli 
certain  characters,  have  grown  into  them,  and  have  constituted  an  at- 
tractive strength  in  the  play's  representation  ;  would  have  been,  in 
short,  unique  in  his  assumption  of  peculiar  parts,  and  hare  held  a 
prominent  place  in  a  Shakespearean  company  of  players. 

You  make  me  almost  "  sin  in  envy  "  that  my  children  have  not  the 
opportunity  of  hearing  Faraday.  Whilst  they  are  the  subjects  of  my 
pen,  let  me  not  forget  to  tell  you  that  they  all  sent  their  best  loves 
from  the  dinner-table  to-day,  and  Johnny  his  "  best,  best,  very  best." 
Tybalt  (who  has  hurt  his  leg  in  a  trap,  we  think)  was  of  the  party. 

Give  my  very  kindest  regards  to  your  husband,  and  do  not  forget  to 
inquire  of  him,  if  he  does  not  intend  to  come  and  look  after  our  Insti- 
tution this  year.  Sherborne  will  be  afraid  to  know  herself,  and  will 
doubt  her  identity  if  she  is  to  miss  your  annual  visit. 

I  never  read  !  —  at  least,  not  books  that  I  can  make  fhemes  of  re- 
mark.     They  are  not  bad  ones,  such  as  they  are,  notwithstanding. 
tk  The  Captive  Knight  "  was  quite  electric  in  its  effect  at  Bristol. 
Believe  me,  dear  Mrs.  Pollock, 

Always  most  sincerely  yours, 

"W.  C.  MACKEADY. 

So  Miss  Rogers T  is  gone  first ! 


SHERBORNE,  DORSET,  March  26th,  1855. 

MY  DEAH  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  The  clock  tells  me  that  there  are  yet 
some  quarters  to  run  before  my  scholars  come,  and  these  I  cannot  use 
more  agreeably  to  myself  than  in  acknowledging  your  pleasant  letter 
of  the  10th  —  pleasant  with  one  exception,  the  continued  indisposition 
of  your  little  Walter,  with  the  recommendations  of  climate,  etc.,  need- 
ful for  his  reinvigoration.  I  know  I  need  not  say  that  most  fervently 
do  I  hope  the  sea  air  and  the  bracing  breezes  of  Eastbourne  will  help 
to  restore  his  spirits  and  strength.  That  real  English  beverage,  ale, 
which  had  so  much  of  both  meat  and  drink  in  it,  as  perfectly  justified 
Boniface's  eulogistic  character  of  it,  is  rarely  to  be  met  with  now.  I 
wish  you  would  ask  of  your  medical  man  if  that  genuine  English  bev- 
erage (or,  failing  that,  superior  Stout)  would  not  be  a  good  assistant 

1  Sister  of  Samuel  Rogers. 


LETTERS.  679 

to  his  diet.  I  will  have  faith  in  the  downs  of  Eastbourne  and  gener- 
ous living  if  the  grand  recipe  of  cod-liver  oil  be  not  prescribed,  and 
trust  that  you  may  be  able  to  bring  us  good  news  of  the  result  of  all 
yoiir  care  in  the  course  of  the  summer,  or  bring  him  with  you,  which 
will  be  better  still.  Miss  Spencer  has  left  us,  and  I  have  gone  into 
school  again,  but  it  is  only  for  two  hours  a  day,  and  my  pupils  are  not 
very  troublesome.  It  does  not  seem  to  me  likely  that  I  shall  revisit 
London  this  season.  I  have  been  much  about  of  late,  and  the  arrear 
of  work  at  home  is  very  considerable.  I  find  I  have  not  "  Les  Maitres 
Sonneurs "  among  George  Sand's  works,  but  it  can  wait,  as  I  have 
more  to  read  and  more  to  do  than  ever  will  be  read  or  done  in  this 
world.  My  children  are  very  well  acquainted  with  the  "  Abbot  of 
Canterbury."  "  Percy's  Reliques "  is  a  sort  of  bonne-bouche  that  is 
occasionally  taken  down  at  the  close  of  a  good  day,  for  especial  enjoy- 
ment. An  improvised  story,  generally  by  accident,  recounting  the 
consequence  of  some  fault  of  omission  or  commission  recently  reported 
is  usually  the  sequel  to  dessert.  Our  evening's  reading  now  is  "  Old 
Mortality."  When  I  read  that  romance  on  its  appearance  above 
thirty  years  ago  I  thought  it,  and  as  it  has  lived  in  my  memory  I  have 
ever  since  considered  it,  the  grandest  and  best  of  all  that  admirable 
novelist's  works.  My  recurrence  to  it  confirms  the  impression  it  then 
made  on  me.  I  am  reading  other  books,  which  are  not  in  your  way 
—  for  we  must  all  have  our  peculiar  tastes  and  opinions  ;  and  there 
fore,  as  the  dear  old  nurse  in  "  Romeo  and  Juliet "  says,  "  What  they 
bid  me  say,  I  shall  keep  to  myself." 

Did  you  see  in  the  "  Examiner  "  the  review  of  Owen  Meredith's  1 
poems  ?  And  did  you  read  the  extracts  ?  If  you  did,  I  think  you 
must  have  been  struck  with  the  presence  of  a  genius  in  the  deep 
thought  remarkable  in  many  of  the  lines. 

I  was  very  much  interested  the  last  day  I  dined  with  you  in  ob- 
serving the  various  directions  of  men's  minds  with  regard  to  the 
stirring  wants  of  these  days,  the  very  different  impressions  made  on 
each  of  us  by  the  same  occurrences.  Some  rejecting  the  representa- 
tions of  misconduct  and  imbecility  in  the  management  of  our  affairs, 
whilst  others  (alas  !  for  me)  have  writhed  and  been  unmanned  by  the 
statements  furnished  to  us.  If  persons  assume  that  right  to  judge,  to 
determine  for  themselves  on  things  of  to-day's  occurrence,  what  can 
be  said  of  those  who  would  persecute  for  opinion  on  religious  ques- 
tions ?  Churchmen  may  say  they  do  not  persecute  now :  no,  they 
only  disqualify,  refuse  to  educate,  sneer,  and  affect  superiority  to  those 
who  protest  in  a  different  mode  from  themselves.  Johnny  sends  you 
his  "  best,  best  love."  Lillie,  Butty,  Henry,  their  bests.  Katie  joins 
with  Aunty  in  affectionate  remembrances.  She,  Katie,  is  very  indus- 
trious just  at  present,  as  I  am  going  to  be  —  soon.  Give  my  very 
kindest  regards  to  my  friend  Pollock,  and  always  believe  me,  dear 
Mrs.  Pollock,  Most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 

• 

1  The  name  under  which  Robert,  Lord  Lytton,  first  published. 


680  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 


THE  ATHENAEUM,  September  9th,  1855. 

MY  DEAR  POLLOCK,  —  You  sent  me  a  most  delightful  letter,  paint- 
ing the  cliffs  and  sunny  slopes  and  dells  and  shadowy  woods  of  an 
English  Arcadia,  redolent  at  once  of  the  rich  luxuriance  of  summer 
and  the  invigorating  freshness  of  the  channel  breezes,  that  quite  trans- 
ported me  back  to  Bonchurch  and  Ventnor ;  but  with  that  Diorainic 
magician's  power,  who  used  to  give  us  atmospheres  at  his  will  over 
those  grand  and  lovely  scenes  of  mountain  and  lake,  that  made  a  mo- 
mentary doubt  to  us  of  our  locality  in  the  Regent's  Park,  you  diffused 
a  glow,  and  scattered  halcyon  tints  over  the  landscape  which  I  believe 
may  have  been  there  in  compliment  to  Mrs.  Pollock  and  you  ;  but 
when  I  was  lamenting  the  sufferings  of  the  martyr  in  that  isle  of  storms, 
I  was  undergoing  worse  fate  than  Master  Stuart's  —  a  martyrdom 
undeserved.  That  treacherous  clerk,  James  White,  promised  me 
Madeira,  and  glad  enough  should  I  have  been  to  have  got  to  port  — OH  ! 
For  Heaven's  sake  forgive  me!  I  never  should  have  been  guilty  of 
such  an  enormity,  but  that  really  I  have  an  excuse  for  not  being  quite 
in  my  sound  wits.  I  am  here  in  London  —  in  London  alone  ;  I  have 
struggled  down  from  Paddington  through  thickets  of  people,  and  hoped, 
on  getting  out  of  the  wilderness,  through  which  I  have  made  my  way, 
to  find  a  comfortable  dinner  and  the  last  week's  papers  here ;  and  here  I 
am,  taking  out  my  six  guineas  in  pen,  ink,  and  paper  !  The  news-room, 
coffee-room  all  are  shut  up !  Is  it  not  enough  to  drive  a  man  to  —  make 
a  bad  pun  !  If  I  were  not  so  savagely  hungry,  I  would  begin  the  story 
of  the  Pig  and  the  Fawn,  but  in  my  present  state  I  should  go  clean 
meat  mad,  and  make  a  bite  at  the  waiter.  I  will  not  however  forget, 
in  an  after-dinner  mood,  to  send  you  a  faithful  chronicle  of  the  event. 
The  state  of  my  circumstances  is  such  (what  am  I  to  do  for  a  dinner  — 
or  some  one  to  dine  with  ?)  that  I  could  be  tempted  to  appropriate 
your  plot,  get  Warren  to  write  words  to  it,  and  go  back  to  the  stage 
to  act  it  myself.  Remember  me  most  kindly  to  your  wife  and  to  your 
belongings,  and  to  the  wife  of  James  White  ;  but  as  for  the  man,  be- 
ware of  him !  he  has  played  me  a  most  scurvy  trick.  Niger  est,  caveloJ 
you  promise  me  the  pendant  to  the  Fawn  —  but  when  is  that  "  some 
day,"  on  which  it  is  to  be  told,  to  come  off?  If  I  live  through  this 
hunger  fit,  and  "  come  safe  home,  I  shall  yearly  on  the  vigil  (of  this 
day)  feast  my  friends,  and  say  to-morrow  is  Saint  —  no,  Duke  Hum- 
phrey." But  that  day  may  never  come,  which  is  no  reason  that  you 
>hould  not  come  ;  therefore  if  you  would  say  when  you  will,  it  would 
make  Sherborne  look  as  sunny  and  pleasant  as  you  describe  Ventnor. 
Cannot  you  take  us  in  your  way  home  ?  (Apart  to  Mrs.  Pollock  — 
"  Can  he  not,  Mrs.  Pollock  ?  ")  I  hope  to  hear  that  you  can.  Mean- 
while, may  the  gods  defend  you  from  the  Athenaeum  in  the  month  of 
September,  and  keep  you  out  of  London  till  the  rest  of  the  people 
return  to  it !  Ever  always  most  truly  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


LETTERS.  681 

SHERBORNE,  Odder  22d,  1855. 

MY  DEAR  POLLOCK,  —  Very  cordially  indeed  do  I  thank  you  for 
your  kind  remembrance  of  our  little  society  in  presenting  to  it  the  Pro- 
ceedings of  the  Royal  Institution.  I  have  forwarded  it,  with  an  extract 
from  your  letter,  to  the  Committee,  who  will  no  doubt  express  to  you 
their  sense  of  your  interest  in  their  well-doing.  The  volume  I  shall 
myself  be  disposed  to  borrow  from  their  shelves,  so  full  of  information 
and  interesting  matter  did  it  seem  to  me  in  the  glance  through  it  which 
I  snatched  before  parting  with  it. 

I  believe  we  must  look  for  the  drama,  if  we  really  wish  to  find  it,  in 
that  remote  suburb  of  Islington.1  It  is  only  to-day  I  have  again  been 
renewing  my  intercourse  with  managers,  having,  after  three  weeks' 
endeavor  to  screw  my  courage  to  the  sticking-place,  and  accept  the 
office  of  Chairman  at  the  anniversary  of  the  General  Theatrical  Fund, 
cried  craven,  and  confessed  myself  in  substance,  though  not  in  actual 
terms  —  "  too  old,  a  cripple,  and  a  coward."  It  has  been  a  reluctant 
surrender  on  my  part,  but  I  have  not  confidence  in  myself  to  under- 
take the  responsibility.  Katie  is,  I  think,  quite  herself  again ;  my 
sister  has  been  ailing,  but  is  better  ;  Johnny  is  in  love ;  all  else  quite 
well.  We  heard  from  Ceylon  yesterday.  I  shall  answer  Mrs.  Pollock's 
last  letter  soon.  With  kindest  regards  of  all  to  all, 

I  am  ever  always, 

Sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


SHERBORNE,  June  20th,  1856. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  In  a  letter  written  to  me  "on  Thurs- 
day morning  "  you  make  inquiry  of  me  whether  it  is  true  that,  in  my 
youth,  my  action  was  redundant,  and  that  I  took  extraordinary  pains 
to  chasten  it  ?  It  is  rather  hard  to  give  evidence  on  occurrences  of  so 
remote  a  date.  Indeed,  I  must  make  myself  quite  certain  whether  I 
ever  knew  such  a  period  as  that  of  youth  before  I  can  answer  your 
question.  Of  that,  however,  I  will  not  at  present  treat,  but  inform 
you  that  there  was  a  time  when  my  action  was  redundant  —  when  I 
was  taught  to  attempt  to  imitate  in  gesture  the  action  I  might  be  re- 
lating, or  to  figure  out  some  idea  of  the  images  of  my  speech.  How 
was  I  made  sensible  of  this  offense  against  good  taste  ?  I  very  soon 
had  misgivings  suggested  by  my  own  observation  of  actual  life.  These 
became  confirmed  by  remarking  how  sparingly,  and  therefore  how  ef- 
fectively, Mrs.  Siddons  had  recourse  to  gesticulation.  In  the  begin- 
ning of  one  of  the  chapters  of  "  Peregrine  Pickle  "  is  the  description 
of  an  actor  (who  must  have  been  Quin)  in  Zanga,  elaborately  accom- 
panying by  gesture  the  narration  of  Alonzo's  emotions  on  discovering 
and  reading  a  letter :  the  absurdity  is  so  apparent  that  I  could  not  be 
blind  to  it,  and  applied  the  criticism  to  myself  in  various  situations, 

1  Where  Mr.  Phelps  was  acting  Shakespeare  at  the  Sadler's  "Wells  Theater. 


682  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

which  might  have  tempted  me  to  something  like  the  same  extrava- 
gance. A  line  in  the  opening  of  one  of  the  Cantos  of  Dante  —  I  do 
not  immediately  remember  it  —  made  a  deep  impression  on  me  in  sug- 
gesting to  me  the  dignity  of  repose  ;  and  so  a  theory  became  gradually 
formed  in  my  mind,  which  was  practically  demonstrated  to  me  to  be  a 
correct  one,  when  I  saw  Talma  act,  whose  every  movement  was  a 
change  of  subject  for  the  sculptor's  or  the  painter's  study.  Well,  as 
my  opinions  were  thus  undergoing  a  transition,  my  practice  moved  in 
the  same  direction,  and  I  adopted  all  the  modes  1  could  devise  to  ac- 
quire the  power  of  exciting  myself  into  the  wildest  emotions  of  pas- 
sion, coercing  my  limbs  to  perfect  stillness.  I  would  lie  down  on  the 
floor,  or  stand  straight  against  a  wall,  or  get  my  arms  within  a  band- 
age, and,  so  pinioned  or  confined,  repeat  the  most  violent  passages  of 
Othello,  Lear,  Hamlet,  Macbeth,  or  whatever  would  require  most 
energy  and  emotion  ;  I  would  speak  the  most  passionate  bursts  of  rage 
under  the  supposed  constraint  of  whispering  them  in  the  ear  of  him  or 
her  to  whom  they  were  addressed,  thus  keeping  both  voice  and  gesture 
in  subjection  to  the  real  impulse  of  the  feeling- —  "  Such  was  my  proc- 
ess." Perhaps  when  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  I  may  make 
myself  more  intelligible,  if  you  desire  further  acquaintance  with  my 
youthful  discipline.  I  was  obliged  also  to  have  recourse  to  the  look- 
ing-glass, and  had  two  or  three  large  ones  in  my  room  to  reflect  to  my- 
self each  view  of  the  posture  I  might  have  fallen  into,  besides  being 
under  the  necessity  of  acting  the  passion  close  to  a  glass  to  restrain 
the  tendency  to  exaggerate  its  expression  —  which  was  the  most  diffi- 
cult of  all  —  to  repress  the  ready  frown,  and  keep  the  features,  per- 
haps I  should  say  the  muscles  of  the  face,  undisturbed,  whilst  intense 
passion  would  speak  from  the  eye  alone.  The  easier  an  actor  makes 
liis  art  appear,  the  greater  must  have  been  the  pains  it  cost  him.  I  do 
not  think  it  difficult  to  act  like  Signora  Ristori ;  it  seems  to  me 
merely  a  melodramatic  abandonment  or  lashing-up  to  a  certain  point 
of  excitement.  It  is  not  so  good  as  Rachel,  nor  to  be  compared  with 
such  acting  as  that  of  Siddons  and  O'Neill.  But  you  will  have  cried, 
"  Hold,  enough !  "  long  since.  Will  you  give  my  love  to  your  hus- 
band, and  ask  him  for  me  the  name  of  his  optical  instrument  maker. 
I  want  to  send  some  articles  to  be  refitted,  and,  from  Willie's  enthusi- 
asm about  his  telescope,  I  hope  I  may  derive  some  benefit  from  his  ac- 
quaintance. I  have  a  great  deal  to  tell  you,  if  I  had  time  to  gossip. 
but  I  am  sure  here  is  more  than  sufficient  for  one  post.  All  loves  from 
home.  Mine  to  your  little  boys.  Believe  me, 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

W.  C.  MACUEADY. 

P.  S.  —  Leontes  does  not  read,  but  there  are  great  effects  in  the 
acting.  I  wish  I  could  like  the  Veronese,  because  I  like  Eastlake  so 
much.  Our  country  is  certainly  very  beautiful,  better  than  if  on  can- 
vas. 


LETTERS. 


SHEKBORNE,  July  14th,  1856. 

MY  DEAR  POLLOCK,  — I  have  not  thanked  you  for  the  address  of 
your  excellent  optician,  to  whom  I  am  about  to  apply  to  put  some  of 
my  deranged  instruments  and  playthings  in  order  for  me,  if  he  will 
condescend  to  take  them  in  hand,  so  that  when  you  are  here  again 
(which  ought  rightfully  to  be  in  the  autumn,  and  I  do  not  see  any 
good  reason  why  it  should  not),  you  may  deliver  your  astronomical 
lecture  to  the  junior  branches  with  unobscured  effect.  I  was  very 
glad  to  read  what  you  said  of  Ristori,  because  it  was  so  nearly  a  re- 
flection of  my  own  thoughts.  Perhaps  you  set  her  rather  higher  than 
I  do.  With  a  manifest  consciousness  of  the  presence  of  her  audience, 
the  fault  Mrs.  Pollock  discriminately  attributed  to  her,  it  is  not  possi- 
ble for  any  one  to  be  great  (at  least  such  is  my  opinion)  in  the  theat- 
rical art.  Her  heart  could  not  have  been  in  her  words  and  action 
when  she  set  her  children  to  pray  to  Diana,  and  turned  their  backs  to 
the  statue  of  the  goddess  that  their  faces  might  be  to  the  audience  !  I 
thought  her  not  a  bad  declaimer,  with  a  great  deal  of  melodramatic 
energy  and  vehemence  which,  particularly  in  a  foreign  language,  is  apt 
to  bewilder  the  judgment.  I  quite  agree  with  you  about  the  physical 
pain  of  the  stage  being  always  made  subservient  and  auxiliary  to  some 
great  moral  effect  —  and  even  then  to  be  delicately  treated.  But  in 
its  coarsest  display  there  will  always  be  a  large  portion  of  the  audi- 
ence upon  whom  it  will  tell.  Even  in  Paris,  when  Parisian  taste  was 
purer  in  theatrical  matters  than  (as  I  hear)  it  now  is,  I  recollect  when 
Miss  Smithson,  as  Jane  Shore,  uttered  the  line,  "  I  have  not  tasted 
food  these  three  long  days" — a  deep  murmur,  perfectly  audible,  ran 
through  the  house  — "  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !  "  But  how  have  I  run  into 
into  all  this  idle  gossip  ?  —  you  have  betrayed  me  into  it. 

Ever  most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  M  ACRE  AD  Y. 


SHERBORNE,  April  20t/i,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  POLLOCK,  —  I  thank  you  very  much  for  the  papers  of 
Maurice's  College.  I  was  interested  deeply  and  delighted  with  them  ; 
as  for  him,  he  is  one  of  my  heroes.  I  cannot  too  personally  express 
how  much  I  honor  him  —  indeed,  envy  him,  I  might  almost  say  —  but 
that  there  is  no  such  alloy  in  the  feeling  with  which  he  inspires  me. 

I  have  always  thought,  that  there  should  be  some  sort  of  intellectual 
gauge  for  the  privilege  of  the  franchise  —  that  money  qualification  for 
Members  of  Parliament  and  justices  of  the  peace,  by  itself,  is  detesta- 
ble. 

I  hope  you  have  seen  the  account  of  the  working  of  the  ballot  in 
Australia.  It  has  always  been  a  persuasion  of  mine,  that  we  shall  learn 
the  practical  lessons  of  political  economy  from  our  off-shoots  —  from 


684  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

those  who  are  not  afraid  to  experimentalize,  and  who  have  no  clogs  of 
antique  prejudice  on  their  movements. 

Believe  me  always  and  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


SIIEBBORXE,  December,  Id,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  POLLOCK,  —  If  I  wait  until  I  can  find  time  to  write  you 
letter,  in  a  deprecatory  strain,  Christmas  must  be  long  over  before  I 
shall  be  able  to  put  my  pen  to  paper.  I  have  my  hands  full  with  the 
endeavor  to  stimulate  Institutes,  and  the  preparation  for  the  close  of 
the  evening  school's  half-year  —  a  business,  I  assure  you,  of  no  little 
labor  and  responsibility.  Now  this  does  not  give  me  time  to  couch  in 
terms  befitting  its  importance  the  great  favor  I  have  to  ask  of  you. 
Therefore  I  must  request  you  to  add  to  that  favor,  if  you  grant  it,  the 
additional  one  of  excusing  the  abruptness  and  ungracefulness  of  the 
mode  in  which  I  press  it. 

Will  you  permit  me  to  name  you  as  an  executor  to  my  will  ?  There 
is  but  a  small  matter  to  devise,  and  the  equal  division  of  it  leaves  lit- 
tle chance  of  embarrassment. 

I  need  not  state  the  inducements  there  are  to  make  me  anxious 
about  such  an  arrangement,  nor  could  I  touch  upon  them  without  ap- 
proaching what  might  seem  the  language  of  flattery. 

I  should  have  a  great  deal  of  country  news  to  relate,  if  I  had  time 
to  tell  it :  but  must  confine  my  present  letter  to  its  one  all-important 
request. 

With  all  that  is  kindest  from  hence, 

I  am  ever  affectionately  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


SHERBORXE,  March  4th,  1859. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  Your  inquiry  tempts  me  to  begin 
my  reply  with  the  ejaculation  of  one  of  the  characters  in  a  forgotten 
entertainment  of  the  elder  Mathews  —  "That  child  will  be  the  death 
of  me!"  I  have  exhausted  the  terms  of  denial,  from  simple  assevera- 
tion to  protestation  "  up  to  the  hearing  of  the  gods,"  that  I  never  — 
to  my  knowledge  —  saved  a  child  from  any  greater  peril  than  that  of 
a  whipping.  That  child  has  haunted  me  more  frequently  than  his 
strangely  fabricated  monster  did  Frankenstein.  But  that  mischief 
was  of  his  own  making,  and  to  my  phantom  I  may  apply  the  wrords  of 
Antonio : 

"  How  I  found  it,  cansrht  it,  or  came  by  it, 
What  stuff 't  is  made  of,  whereof  it  is  born, 
I  am  to  learn." 

You  give  me  a  most  delightful  holiday  to  look  forward  to  in  the  pros- 
pect of  yours  and  my  friend  Pollock's  visit  to  us  at  Whitsuntide.     It 


LETTERS.  685 

will  indeed  light  up  the  dreariness  of  our  sober  home  ;  and  1  know 
Katie  will  rejoice  in  welcoming  you  both,  no  less  than  myself.  You 
shall  make  your  own  terms  in  your  requisitions  upon  my  school-master 
labors,  by  which,  however,  I  am  disposed  to  think  little  beyond  gen- 
eral rules  can  be  communicated. 

I  have  very  little  time  for  reading,  strange  as  it  must  seem.  "  Au- 
rora Leigh  "  I  have  at  last  read,  and  the  greater  part  of  Robert  Lyt- 
ton's  last.  I  hope  to  talk  them  over  with  you  here.  Years,  I  fancy,  do 
not  heighten  the  relish  for  poetry ;  and  yet,  in  my  heart  of  hearts,  I 
love  the  acquaintances  of  my  earlier  days.  The  truly  great  and  good 
is  almost  always  simple  ;  it  rarely  happens,  I  think,  that  a  passage, 
which  you  are  obliged  to  read  over  again  for  its  perfect  meaning  hap- 
pens to  be  one  that  lives  in  your  memory,  as  a  monitor  or  an  enjoy- 
ment. Carlyle's  book  I  have  not' yet  read,  but  have  heard  Katie's 
running  comments  on  it,  as  she  went  through  it.  The  measles  have 
been  through  the  house.  Butty  had  no  sooner  recovered,  than  Katie 
next,  and  afterwards  Johnny,  took  them ;  but  all  are  well,  thank  God, 
quite  well,  and  better,  I  think,  than  before  their  illness.  My  news 
from  Madeira  was  more  cheering,  and  we  hope  to  see  my  son  Willie 
and  his  wife  in  the  summer  here,  previous  to  their  return  to  Ceylon. 
But  all  my  promised  pleasures  I  hope  for  with  irrepressible  fears. 
Give  my  love  to  your  husband,  and  believe  me  always, 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


SHERBORXE,  May  1st,  1859. 

Mr  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  The  only  drawback  to  the  satisfaction 
your  letter  brought  with  it  is  in  the  limit  fixed  to  your  stay  with  us  ; 
and  if  by  postponement  we  might  hope  to  prolong  it,  I  should  wish 
your  visit  to  be  longer  in  coming,  and  so  longer  in  all  ways.  But  if 
there  be  a  necessity  in  this,  as  there  is  in  so  many  earthly  things,  we 
must  be,  as  I  truly  am,  thankful  for  what  is  given.  I  shall  be  inter- 
ested in  learning  the  impression  that  your  husband  received  from  the 
performance  of  "  Henry  V."  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  hazard  an  opin- 
ion ;  but  from  what  has  been  omitted  and  what  has  been  interpolated 
in  the  production  of  the  Shakespearean  plays  at  the  Princess's  Theater, 
it  has  always  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  text  allowed  to  be  spoken  was 
more  like  a  running  commentary  upon  the  spectacles  exhibited,  than 
the  scenic  arrangements  an  illustration  of  the  text.  It  has  however 
been  popular,  and  the  main  end  been  answered.  Perhaps  I  may  see 
you  before  your  flying  visit.  Katie  and  all,  thank  God,  are  pretty 
well.  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  such  excellent  accounts  of  Frederick, 
knowing  well  what  a  comfort  it  must  be  to  both  of  you.  "  And  our 
own  children,  in  our  eyes,  are  dearer  than  the  sun." 

I  have  been  reading  over  part  of  the  diary  of  my  first  entry  on  the 
management  of  Covent  Garden  Theater.  What  work  !  and  what  un- 
relieved anxiety !  The  dullness  of  Sherborne  is  a  sort  of  Elysium 


G86  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

when  contrasted  with  it.  I  am  intending  to  read  "  Adam  Bede,"  to 
which  I  have  been  urged  by  many  earnest  recommendations.  Katie 
sends  her  best  love  —  the  others  are  out.  With  all  that  is  kindest  in 
remembrance,  I  am  always, 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


SHERBORNE  HOUSE,  December  9</i,  1859. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  Your  handwriting  was  a  pleasant  sight 
to  me  this  morning.  I  have  had  a  question  from  you  unanswered  — 
for  many  weeks  ;  but  much  to  do  and  inertness  in  doing  have  from 
time  to  time  put  off  my  reply.  You  inquired  where  Mrs.  Malaprop's 
admission  of  "  the  self-impeachment "  was  taken  from  ?  I  do  not  be- 
lieve it  to  be  an  incorrect  quotation,  but  an  original  mal-a-propos  ar- 
rangement or  selection.  I  am  glad  you  have  seen  my  Katie,  and  that 
you  think  well  of  her  prospect  or  chance  of  becoming  a  good  singer 
of  music  married  to  immortal  verse  —  for  merely  playing  upon  a 
voice  I  do  not  call  singing.  In  respect  to  the  question  that  arises  in 
your  mind  as  to  the  cultivation  of  poetic  art,  in  which  the  novelist's  is 
to  a  certain  degree  included,  being  in  frequent  antagonism  with  the 
duties  of  self-control  so  wisely  imposed  on  us,  I  should  be  disposed  to 
answer  in  the  affirmative.  But  I  do  not  think  the  poet  or  novelist  is 
likely  to  suffer  so  much  from  extreme  sensitiveness  as  the  player,  who 
has  no  future  to  which  he  may  appeal,  and  therefore  suffers  more  from 
that  irritability  which  the  exercise  of  his  art  tends  rather  to  cherish 
than  to  subdue.  The  poet,  you  are  aware,  is  described  of  the  irrita- 
bile  genus,  and  is  made  so  by  having  to  excite  in  himself  the  emotions 
which  in  common  life  are  better  unknown  or  unfelt :  the  player  has  to 
awaken  them  much  more  frequently,  and  without  the  glorious  immor- 
tality that  compensates  and  richly  rewards  them. 

I  shall  take  with  me  many  regrets  away  from  this  old  house,  hal- 
lowed as  it  is  to  memory  by  so  much  of  love  and  so  much  of  sorrow  ; 
but  the  work  in  this  place  grows  too  exacting  upon  me,  and  Johnny 
is  now  too  old  to  be  without  boyish  companions  and  an  arena  to 
strive  in.  I  hope,  too,  that  you  and  other  friends  will  find  Chelten- 
ham more  accessible  and  less  dull1  than  Sherborne,  where  the  house 
and  my  school  and  some  few  neighbors  are  the  sole  attractions.  "With 
love  to  your  husband, 

Always  and  most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADT. 


PUNSTER,  SOMERSET,  April  8fh,  1860. 

MY  DEAK  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  Your  letter  of  March  19th,  which  I 
found  at  Sherborne  on  my  return  from  London,  lay  on  my  table  wait- 
ing the  hoped-for  half-hour  that  might  furnish  its  answer,  until  I  was 


LETTERS.  687 

obliged  to  leave  home  and  dispose  of  it  in  my  traveling-desk.  Here 
it  is  before  me,  with  your  last  forwarded  to  me  from  my  late  abode. 

Had  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  have  found  you  at  home,  when  I 
called  in  Montagu  Square,  you  might  have  received  intimations  of 
contemplated  changes  in  my  family  which  would  have  considerably 
deadened  the  surprise  of  the  recent  announcement.  But  for  writing  I 
have  had  no  time.  That  old  excuse  is  still  good  for  me.  With  the 
school  and  my  surrender  of  it,  a  public  reading,  my  house  all  the 
while  in  the  active  course  of  disfurnishing,  business  at  Cheltenham 
and  all  around  me,  from  early  morning  to  a  very  late  hour  in  the 
evening,  I  had  not  one  five  minutes  at  my  command. 

I  am  quite  aware  that  the  change  I  have  made  in  my  home  may 
subject  me  to  varieties  of  opinion  ;  but  I  have,  in  deliberating  upon  it, 
satisfied  myself  that  a  judgment  formed  without  knowledge  of  the  con- 
ditions under  which  such  a  change  has  been  decided  on,  cannot  be 
worth  attention.  You  have  seen  my  home  ;  but  visitors  cannot  know 
the  wants  in  a  house  where  only  plenty  appears  to  them.  You  will 
live  to  find  that  your  children,  dear  and  intimate  as  they  may  be,  still 
are  not  companions ;  and  I  hope  in  God  you  will  never  experience 
the  loneliness  of  a  widowed  home. 

My  wife  is  dear  Katie's  most  intimate  friend,  and  both  she  and  the 
other  two  children  have  been  most  anxious  for  the  engagement  that 
has  been  formed. 

On  the  merits  of  her  who  has  blessed  me  with  her  affection  I 
would  not  dilate :  it  is  enough  to  be  grateful  for  the  possession  of 
them,  and  for  the  belief  that  my  home  will  be  much  more  cheerful, 
much  better  conducted,  and  in  all  respects  much  happier  when  she  has 
the  conduct  of  it.  Of  this  I  hope  you  will  be  a  witness.  There  are, 
I  know,  as  all  the  world  does,  imprudences  in  marriages,  where  the 
ages  are  disproportionate.  From  the  many  motives  that  have  led  on 
to  this,  in  addition  to  the  primary  one  of  sober  affection,  I  believe  this 
will  be  found  an  exception  to  a  general  rule.  I  need  scarcely  say  I 
have  but  one  companion  here,  who  reciprocates  very  cordially  your 
good  wishes.  Always  and  most  sincerely  yours, 

W.    C.    MAC  READY. 


6  WELLINGTON  SQUARE,  CHELTENHAM,  June  llth,  1860. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  The  business  of  settling  ourselves 
down  in  a  new  house,  and  in  a  strange  place  contracts  very  much  the 
opportunities  for  correspondence ;  I  should  else  have  answered  your 
inquiries  about  Cheltenham  earlier.  I  presume  you,  who  "  have  seen 
the  cities  and  manners  of  many  men,"  have  not  omitted  Cheltenham 
in  your  wide  survey.  If  so,  you  will  not  dissent  from  my  opinion  of 
its  beauty.  I  do  not  think  there  is  a  town  in  England,  or  out  of  it, 
laid  out  with  so  much  taste,  such  a  continual  intermixture  of  garden, 
villa,  street,  and  avenue.  The  hills  that  encompass  it  are  objects  of  in- 


C88  M ACRE AD Y  IN  RETIREMENT. 

terest  and  beauty,  observable  from  almost  every  point ;  the  conveniences 
of  all  kinds  equal  those  of  London,  and  with  the  shops  and  clubs  and 
various  institutions,  give  the  promise  of  a  residence  answering  the  de- 
mands of  the  most  fastidious.  So  much  for  Cheltenham  itself.  Of  its 
society  I  can  scarcely  speak,  having  only  seen  the  callers  and  the 
guests  at  dinners  that  have  been  given  in  welcome  to  us  ;  but  as  far  as 
I  can  form  a  judgment,  I  have  been  favorably  impressed. 

Our  house  is  one,  as  Captain  Bobadil  would  say,  "  somewhat  of  the 
smallest "  after  Sherborne,  being,  I  think,  not  quite  a  quarter  of  its 
size,  and  it  has  cost  us  some  trouble  to  squeeze  ourselves  and  our  ap- 
purtenances into  it.  Indeed,  we  have  not  been  able  to  do  this  without 
curtailment,  leaving  behind  us  at  Sherborne,  for  distribution  by  sale, 
some  of  the  stock  of  our  household  goods,  and  sending  others  to  Lon- 
don upon  the  same  errand.  We  are  now  ensconced,  each  in  several 
corners,  and  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  our  accommodation,  though 
a  little  cramped  for  room.  We  have  a  spare  bedroom,  and  are  able, 
with  a  little  squeezing,  to  make  up  another  single  bed.  Therefore,  if 
you  will  at  any  time  induce  my  good  friend  Pollock  to  make  his  holi- 
day route  by  way  of  Cheltenham,  you  will  know  that  our  cabin  doors 
will  be  ready  to  leap  off  their  hinges  to  receive  you  both.  I  have  be- 
sides a  very  good  little  housekeeper,  who  will  take  delight  in  trying  to 
make  you  comfortable,  and  whom  I  should  very  much  wish  to  know 
you  both,  as  I  should  wish  you  in  becoming  acquainted  with  her,  to  be 
satisfied  of  the  reasons,  over  and  above  those  which  inclination  might 
suggest,  that  led  to  this  change  in  our  family  arrangements  ;  for  I  hear 
that  in  the  "  world "  (which  is  a  very  limited  circumference)  I  am 
rather  hardly  dealt  with.  Thank  God,  I  can  well  afford  it  As  I 
have  been  prevented  from  writing  much,  I  have  been  hindered  from 
reading  almost  altogether.  I  fancy,  beyond  one  or  two  articles  in  the 
Reviews,  and  Forster's  "  Arrest  of  the  Five  Members,"  J  have  read 
nothing  since  Christmas  —  at  least  I  remember  nothing.  I  hear 
George  Eliot's  book  spoken  of  with  praise,  I  may  say  universally,  but 
it  has  been  hitherto  sealed  to  me.  But  I  do  intend  —  if  I  live  —  to 
resume  my  habits  of  study,  as  soon  as  ever  I  get  my  books  in  order. 
It  is  the  fashion  to  desert  Cheltenham  in  the  summer  on  the  plea  that 
it  is  too  hot;  and,  in  submission  to  that  irresistible  law,  people  are  al- 
ready beginning  to  run  away  though  it  is  so  cold  we  have  fires  every 
day.  We  shall  have  the  place  all  to  ourselves  soon,  and  then  I  will 
redeem  lost  time  in  the  reading  way.  Remember  me  affectionately  to 
Pollock,  and  with  my  wife's  kind  regards  to  you  and  him, 

I  remain, 
Ever  and  always  most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACUEADY. 


WELLINGTON  SQUARE,  CHELTENHAM,  January  \2th,  1861. 

Mr  DEAR  Mas.  POLLOCK,  —  The  ranks  of  my  friends  are  thinning 

so  fust  that  it  is  a  privilege  particularly  precious  to  find  one's  self  not 


LETTERS.  689 

forgotten  by  the  few  that  remain,  and  most  of  all  by  those  held  in  the 
most  affectionate  regard.  Many  thanks  for  all  your  kind  wishes, 
which  are  heartily  reciprocated  to  you  and  yours.  One  important  item 
that  goes  to  make  up  earthly  happiness  I  have  of  late  been  endeavor- 
ing to  regain  —  health,  and  I  begin  to  fear  at  my  time  of  life  it  is  un- 
reasonable to  expect  it.  The  lesson  therefore  that  is  left  me  is  to  be 
grateful  and  content  without  it.  I  was  in  London  for  a  day  in  the 
course  of  last  month,  but  it  was  to  seek  advice  for  Johnny,  who  now, 
thank  God,  is  sufficiently  well  to  take  his  place  among  the  skaters  in 
the  public  gardens  near  us.  I  was  tied  to  him  while  in  town,  and 
could  not  leave  my  hotel  with  him,  so  raw  and  foggy  was  the  atmos- 
phere. It  was  one  of  the  "  London  fogs."  I  have  not  been  in  society 
since  the  middle  of  September,  and  feel  nearly  certain  I  shall  never 
resume  my  place  in  it,  for  I  have  much  to  dp  and  but  little  time,  as  it 
seems  to  me  to  do  it  in.  I  am  glad  to  have  so  good  an  account  of 
.  your  boys.  We  have  had  in  our  house  the  ordinary  run  of  colds,  but 
all  are  now  tolerably  well.  Katie  is  perseverance  itself  at  her  music, 
and  Butty  is  enjoying  her  holidays.  I  have  but  a  slight  personal  ac- 
quaintance with  Mr.  Theodore  Martin,  but  what  I  saw  of  him  I  liked 
very  much,  and  have  received  several  courtesies  from  him.  Mrs. 
Martin  is  very  engaging  and  attractive,  and  I  do  not  wonder  at  her 
making  so.  pleasing  an  impression  on  you.  You  would  be  surprised  to 
remark  how  entirely  theatrical  subjects  have  lost  their  interest  with 
me.  The  past  is  a  dream,  so  little  has  been  the  result  derived  from 
it.  I  must  not  say  there  seems  to  be  no  stage  now  ;  but  for  a  school 
of  the  theatrical  art  where  must  we  look  ?  I  am  far  more  interested 
in  this  pregnant  question  of  the  secession  of  the  American  States  and 
the  unity  of  Italy  than  in  Mr.  Smith's  Drury  Lane  and  Opera  House. 
I  am  for  Carlyle !  Adieu,  and  with  every  kindest  thought  and  wish, 

Believe  me  to  be, 
Always  most  sincerely  yours, 

"W.  C.  MACREADY. 


6  WFLLINGTOX  SQUARE,  CHELTENHAM,  April  \\th,  1861. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  Your  letter  made  me  very  desirous  of 
getting  up  out  of  my  arm-chair  and  setting  off  for  London,  but  the 
effort  to  do  so  soon  satisfied  me  of  the  impracticability  of  the  scheme, 
and  I  had  only  to  sink  back  again  with  the  Psalmist's  wish,  "  Oh  that 
I  had  the  wings  of  a  dove  then  would  I  flee  away,"  and  spend  two  or 
three  happy  days  in  Montagu  Square,  and  go  to  see  M.  Fechter  act. 
The  fact  is,  I  am  but  a  convalescent,  and  too  much  bound  to  pay  at- 
tention to  my  state  of  health,  and  be  strictly  observant  of  rules  laid 
down  for  me,  to  enjoy  the  freedom  of  wandering  at  will.  I  am  sure  I 
need  not  say,  if  it  were  in  my  power,  with  due  regard  to  the  strictness 
of  my  regulations,  how  happy  I  should  be  in  accepting  your  kind  in- 
vitation. I  should  go  with  a  predisposition  towards  a  favorable, 
44 


690  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

indeed,  a  high,  opinion  of  M.  Fechter,  from  a  criticism  I  read  upon 
his  performance  of  the  "  Corsican  Brothers,"  discriminating,  as  he  was 
reported  to  have  done,  with  extraordinary  nicety,  the  difference  of 
manner  and  character  in  the  brothers  —  a  distinction  which  had  not 
been  made  by  the  former  representative.  But  I  should  prefer  seeing 
the  artist  in  the  "  Oreste,"  or  "  Mahomet,"  or  "  Tancrede,"  to  seeing 
him  act  in  English.  It  would  be,  I  fancy,  to  me  what,  in  reading,  a 
good  translation  would  convey  —  the  substance  and  passion  of  the 
scene  would  be  given,  but  minuter  beauties  and  more  subtle  meaning 
belonging  to  the  genius  of  the  language  must,  I  cannot  but  think, 
escape  the  apprehension  of  a  foreigner.  I  thought  thus  of  myself  in 
contemplating  a  far  easier  task  than  Hamlet,  viz.,  the  performance  of 
"  Oreste  "  with  Rachel.  In  stating  thus  much  I  assure  you  I  entertain 
;i  very  high  opinion  of  the  power  I  believe  M.  Fechter  to  possess,  and 
he  is  the  only  actor  living  that  I  would  now  think  it  worth  my  while 
to  go  and  see.  Indeed  I  would  go  if  I  were  a  movable,  but,  as  the 
world  seems  to  be  going  on  at  a  faster  and  faster  rate.  I  become  more 
and  more  stationary.  I  have  not  read  the  previous  novel  of  "Adam 
Bede  ; "  I  cannot  keep  up  with  the  speed  of  the  reading  world  ;  I  have 
indeed  devoured  Macaulay's  fifth  volume,  and  am  now  in  my  second 
perusal  of  "  Essays  and  Reviews."  I  read  the  book  so  hastily  the  first 
time  that  I  am  obliged  to  go  through  it  again  to  test  the  justice  of  the 
Episcopalian  denunciations  of  it. 

Madame,  who  is  from  home,  would  charge  me,  I  know,  with  every 
kind  message  to  you,  and  is  very  anxious  to  enjoy  the  acquaintance  of 
one  whose  name  has  become  a  household  word  to  her.  Johnny 
struggles  on  against  his  Greek  and  Latin,  and  in  spite  of  all  some 
particles  stick  to  him. 

With  kindest  loves  to  your  boys, 

I  am  ever. 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


6  WELLINGTON  SQUARE,  CHELTENHAM,  May  9th,  1861. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  Your  letter  received  this  morning, 
with  its  requisition  of  an  answer  to  such  a  question,  threw  me  into  a 
state  of  effervescence ;  and,  if  I  had  been  as  young  as  once  I  was  and 
as  energetic,  I  think  I  should  have  jumped  from  my  bed,  where  a  sud- 
den and  severe  attack  of  cold  had  laid  me,  and  have  fired  off  an  essay 
—  the  "  thousandth  and  oneth,"  I  fancy — on  the  character  of  Hamlet! 
Unless  I  attempted  such  a  work  I  could  not  satisfactorily  answer  your 
inquiry,  that  is,  I  could  not  prove  to  you  the  converse  of  your  friend's 
suggestion.  One  of  the  highest  compliments  I  ever  received  in  the 
exercise  of  my  art  was  paid  me  by  a  very  jealous  watcher  over  my 
acting,  who  had  been  familiar  with  all  my  contemporaries,  including 
John  Kemble  ;  this  was,  — "  Yours  is  the  only  intelligible  Hamlet  I 
have  ever  seen."  Now,  as  this  infers  some  reasoning  in  the  prepara- 


LETTERS.  691 

tion  of  the  representation,  and  as  I  have  conceived  the  excitement  of 
that  most  excitable  being  to  be  carried  to  its  highest  pitch  in  the  effect 
of  the  test  he  applied  to  the  conscience  of  the  king,  it  follows  that  I 
must  differ  the  whole  heaven  from  your  friend.  When  you  give  me 
the  opportunity  —  let  me  hope  it  may  be  in  your  promised  visit  to 
Cheltenham  —  I  feel  confident  of  winning  you  over  to  my  opinion. 
Your  arguer  states  that  such  a  view  would  make  "  nonsense "  of  the 
dialogue  that  follows.  This  is  rather  a  hard  word.  I  should  merely 
say  in  reply  that  such  a  remark  could  only  come  from  one  who  took 
the  surface  of  the  words  and  did  not  feel  the  surge  of  passion  that  is 
underneath  them.  I  will  put  by  your  letter  carefully  till  I  see  you 
(which  must  be  in  Cheltenham,  not  in  London),  when  I  will  discuss 
the  matter  with  it  in  one  hand,  and  the  answer,  Shakespeare,  in  the 
other.  I  cannot  get  well,  and  therefore  cannot  see  M.  Fechter, 
though  not  less  obliged  to  you  for  wishing  me  to  do  so.  Pray  excuse 
the  haste  of  my  letter ;  if  I  had  not  written  at  once  I  might  have 
delayed  my  writing  long.  With  Mrs.  Macready's  kindest  regards  and 
Katie's  best  love,  I  am  always, 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


13  MONTPELIEB,  ILFRACOMBE,  N.  DEVON,  June  24th,  1861. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  I  will  not  belie  you  either  as  to  age 
or  intellect,  or  to  any  quality  you  possess,  so  far  as  to  say  that  it  does 
not  become  you.  To  your  inquiry,  I  never  did  retain  the  words  you 
quote,  in  the  scene  with  Horatio  and  Marcellus  ; l  but  I  can  readily 
conceive  that  any  one  upon  whom  I  could  impress  the  agitated  and  — 
may  I  say  —  exalted  state  of  mind,  that  I  endeavored  to  convey  to 
my  auditors  in  that  scene,  might  have  carried  away  the  belief,  in  the 
general  effect,  that  those  and  other  words  of  a  light  character  were 
uttered.  What  a  dream  to  me  now  is  Hamlet !  —  and  Macbeth,  and. 
Lear,  and  lago,  and  Cassius,  and  others,  in  whose  very  being  I  seem 
to  have  lived,  so  much  their  thoughts  and  feelings  were  my  own ! 
How  I  should  have  enjoyed  being  at  Stratford,  with  you !  I  used 
always  to  turn  aside,  when  near,  in  my  professional  wanderings,  to 
make  a  pilgrimage  at  that  shrine  before  which  I  shall  never  stand  to 
meditate  again  !  Alas  !  for  that  word  "  never"  In  a  crowded  city 
it  cannot  have  half  the  solemnity  that  in  this  tranquillity  it  brings  with 
it.  We  shall  look  forward  to  seeing  you  and  Pollock  at  Cheltenham, 
D.  V.,  in  the  autumn.  Our  stay  in  this  beautiful  place  we  expect  will 
extend  to  two  months.  I  am  just  now  alone,  Cecile  and  Benvenuta 
and  Johnny  being  on  a  ramble  over  the  hills.  I  must  hope  you  will 
like  one  who  has  indeed  shed  so  much  of  sunshine  through  a  home 
that  really  needed  enlivening.  Believe  me  ever, 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 

1  At  the  end  of  the  second  act  of  Hamlet,  after  the  disappearance  of  the  Ghost. 


692  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 


C  WELLINGTON  SQUAKE,  CHELTENHAM,  September  SOih,  1861. 
MY  DKAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  I  too  have  been  thinking,  for  the  last 
two  or  three  weeks,  of  writing  to  you  in  the  fear  that  the  autumn 
might  pass  away,  and  you  forget  the  pleasing  expectation  you  had 
warranted  me  in  entertaining  of  seeing  you  here  before  the  expiration 
of  your,  or  rather  your  husband's  holidays.  But  as  you  let  me  believe 
that  I  have  now  and  then  taken  my  turn  in  your  recollections,  I  am 
encouraged  to  hope  that  you  will  not  let  the  autumn  pass  without  a 
visit  to  Cheltenham.  Although  we  have  shrunk,  in  respect  to  space, 
in  our  exchange  of  Sherborne  for  our  present  home,  we  can  find  room 
for  the  little  gentleman  and  his  nurse,  who  will  not,  I  dare  say,  be 
very  fastidious  about  her  limited  accommodations.  To  you  both  what 
a  contrast  will  this  town  of  trim  gardens,  well-fitted  for  "  retired 
leisure,"  be  to  the  wild  tracts  of  heathy  moor  and  hill  that  you  are 
now  traversing !  Many  are  the  delightful  memories  associated  in  my 
mind  with  "  the  land  of  the  mountain  and  the  flood,"  and  in  nothing 
(should  I  more  delight  than  in  giving  a  summer  to  another  pedestrian 
tour  in  the  Highlands.  "  But  age  with  stealing  steps  hath  clawed  me 
in  his  clutch,"  and  I  can  only  recall  in  vivid  picture  to  my  imagination 
the  "  sounding  cataract,  the  tall  rock,  the  mountain,  and  the  deep  and 
gloomy  wood,  that  were  to  me  an  appetite,  a  feeling,  and  a  love  "  in 
years  long  past.  But  this  enables  me  to  accompany  you  in  fancy  in 
your  ramblings  and  in  my  mind's  eye  to  see  the  romantic  landscape  of 
your  wanderings.  You  will  not  forget  that  we  have  some  points  of 
dispute  left  unsettled,  "  touching  the  Lord  Hamlet,"  which  I  shall  be 
very  glad  to  enter  on  with  you,  either  to  be  corrected  of  my  error  in 
judgment  or  to  make  good  the  truth  of  my  conception.  1  am  now 
engaged  in  reading  "  Hamlet "  to  my  family  and  some  visitors,  but  the 
effort  teaches  me  the  unwelcome  truth,  that  my  reading  days  are  past. 
With  reference  to  the  intolerance  you  allude  to,  I  am  weary  of  the 
dogmatism,  of  sects  and  preachers  'who  "  deal  damnation  round  the 
land  "  interchangeably  with  one  another  ;  but  the  passage'  from  Casau- 
bon,1  which  you  quote,  is  especially  amusing. 

I  am  always, 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MAC  READY. 


6  WELLINGTON  SQL'AKK,  CHELTENHAM,  October  31s/,  1861. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  With  the  concluding  sentences  of 
your  welcome  letter  I  must  begin  my  acknowledgment  of  it,  in  ex- 
pressing to  you  the  deep  disappointment  which  the  postponement  of 
your  visit  (let  me  have  the  consolation  of  so  terming  it)  occasioned 
me.  I  had  been  looking  forward  to  it  so  long,  and  had  anticipated  so 

1  In  which  he  speaks  of  "  atheists  and  other  wretches  who  do  not  believe  in 
witchcraft." 


LETTERS.  693 

many  pleasant  discussions  and  disputes  (!)  with  you  on  subjects  of  art, 
politics,  society  —  in  fact,  all  the  things  of  this  world,  and  many  others 
besides  —  that  it  left  a  blank  in  my  thoughts  and  hopes  difficult  to 
describe.  My  life  is  monotonous  here,  though,  thank  God,  not  without 
its  peculiar  pleasures  —  those  of  retirement,  and  such  as  belong  to  the 
journey,  rapidly  declining,  down  the  hill  of  life.  Your  visit  was  looked 
forward  to  as  a  delightful  variety  to  my  uniform  course,  gratifying  in 
its  own  duration,  and  leaving  memories  as  a  compensation  for  its  close. 
AVell,  let  me  hope  to  live  on  to  a  more  auspicious  arrangement. 

I  do  not  know  how  much  to  touch  upon  your  notice  of  M.  Fechter's 
performance  without  seeming  to  be  ill-natured,  which  I  do  not  wisli 
to  be.  From  the  judgment  I  had  formed  upon  the  various  critiques  I 
had  read,  and  the  descriptions  of  him  I  had  heard,  I  could  not  help 
thinking  that,  in  your  surprise  at  a  foreigner  doing  so  much  with  a 
masterpiece  of  our  language,  you  were  betrayed  into  giving  him  credit 
for  more  than  he  really  could  do.  I  longed  to  hear  what  you  would 
say  of  his  attempt  at  Othello.  Your  remarks  do  not  much  differ  from 
what  I  had  expected.  Thank  you  for  the  copy  of  the  play  as  inter- 
preted by  Fechter.  It  should  not  have  been  published.  The  real 
artist  does  not  pre-engage  your  opinion  by  telling  you  what  he  is  going 
to  draw  :  if  the  tree,  or  rock,  or  man,  or  woman,  do  not  describe  them- 
selves on  the  canvas,  the  writing  underneath  will  not  persuade  us  of 
the  resemblance.  His  views  of  the  subject  show  him  to  me  to  be  a 
clever  man,  but  altogether  superficial  in  his  power  of  investigation. 
He  cannot  perceive  where  the  poet  gives  language  to  his  creations,  in 
his  profound  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  in  direct  contradiction  of 
the  feelings  that  oppress  them.  I  would  not  use  severe  terms,  but 
cannot  find  a  truer  word  to  express  my  sense  of  Mr.  Fechter's  concep- 
tions, than  to  confess  they  appear  to  me  shallow.  There  is  frequent 
perversion  of  the  author's  meaning,  and  complete  blindness  as  to  the 
emotions  of  his  character  —  e.  g.,  the  demission  of  his  lofty  nature  to 
bestow  a  thought  upon  that  miserable  thing,  lago,  when  his  great  mind 
had  made  itself  up  to  die  !  To  me  it  was  in  the  worst  taste  of  a  small 
melodramatic  theater. 

A  friend  of  mine  in  Paris,  on  whose  judgment  I  place  great  reliance, 
as  I  do  on  yours,  in  answer  to  my  inquiries,  informed  me  that  he  was 
regarded  there  as  a  clever  melodramatic  actor,  but  un  peu  exagere. 
The  appreciators  of  Talma  are  not  likely  to  be  insensible  to  the  merits 
of  a  great  theatrical  artist.  But  for  myself,  I  can  only,  as  you  are 
aware,  offer  an  opinion  on  the  direct  points  of  the  case,  which  the 
newspapers  and  Mr.  Fechter's  own  publication  lay  before  me. 

We  were  all  in  great  glee  to  see  Frederick's  name  among  the  suc- 
cessful competitors  for  the  Prince  Consort's  prizes  at  Eton.  I  con- 
gratulate heartily  you  and  Pollock  on  the  satisfaction  you  must  have 
in  his  progress.  I  am  ever, 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

W.    C.    MAC  READY. 


C94  MAC  READY  IN  RETIREMENT. 


6  WELLINGTON  SQUARE,  CHELTENHAM,  February  8th,  1862. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  I  was  indeed  glad  to  see  your  hand- 
writing again,  although  the  announcement  of  the  charades  certified  to 
me  that  you  were  all  in  good  health,  and  in  the  best  of  spirits.  I 
think  I  detected  the  different  actors  through  the  disguises  of  the  names, 
and  should  have  been  too  glad  to  have  assisted  at  the  representation. 
I  did  not  know  how  far  my  opinion  on  the  Othello  of  Fechter,  as  I 
could  judge  of  its  conception  from  the  copy  you  sent  me,  would  agree 
with  yours,  but  I  fancy  we  should  not  be  widely  diverse  in  our  judg- 
ments. I  shrink  from  being  regarded  as  a  praiser  of  the  time  past, 
but  certainly,  from  all  I  can  collect,  regard  the  present  as  destitute  of 
all  pretension  to  excellence  in  the  higher  works  of  the  dramatic  art. 
The  American  imbroglio  gave  me  great  uneasiness,  and  I  look  still 
with  something  like  desponding  anxiety  to  the  termination  of  the  strug- 
gle. I  have  not  been  well  of  late,  and  find  that  I  do  not  shake  off  ill- 
ness as  I  used  to  do. 

I  know  the  author  of  the  books  you  recommend  (which  I  shall  get), 
and  I  know  him  to  be  one  of  the  brightest  spirits  of  his  country.  The 
portrait  you  allude  to  was  taken  in  182G  —  the  character  of  William 
Tell  —  it  is  an  exaggeration  —  certainly  not  good.  My  chances  of 
seeing  London  again  are  few  indeed.  If  I  live,  and  have  health  and 
strength  enough,  I  suppose  I  must  try  to  have  a  glance  at  the  Exhibi- 
tion, the  National  one,  I  mean,  when  the  first  rush  is  over ;  but  my 
future  seems  to  me  so  uncertain,  that  I  promise  myself  nothing.  There 
was  never  perhaps  so  universal  a  demonstration  of  sorrow  as  at  the 
late  Prince's  death.  How  very  beautiful,  beautifully  earnest,  are  Ten- 
nyson's lines  in  the  inscription  of  the  Idylls  to  his  memory  !  I  read 
very  little  now,  except  in  school  books  with  Johnny,  and,  during  her 
holidays,  with  Butty.  My  chief  'business  is  to  watch  the  flickering 
lamp  of  health,  and  nurse  its  lessening  flame. 

.  Believe  me  always,  dear  Mrs.  Pollock, 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

W.    C.    AlAC  READY. 


6  WELLINGTON  SQUARE,  CHELTENHAM,  May  llth,  1862. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  Many,  many  thanks  to  you  for  your 
kind  congratulations.  I  do  not  know  how  far,  at  my  advanced  time 
of  life,  such  an  arrival  may  be  really  a  subject  greatly  to  rejoice  in, 
but  I  am  in  principle  an  optimist,  and  am  firm  in  the  belief  that  the 
Disposer  of  all,  knowing  best  what  is  best  for  us,  so  dispenses  His 
gifts  to  us. 

Thank  God,  my  wife  and  her  baby  are  doing  as  well  as  my  most 
sanguine  wishes  could  desire,  and  I  need  scarcely  add  that  she  is  de- 
lighted with  her  little  son. 

I  have  read,  and  with  very  great  pleasure,  Henry  Taylor's  dramatic 


LETTERS.  695 

poem.  The  two  scenes  between  lolande  and  Orleans  I  thought  very 
touching  and  very  beautiful,  and  the  characters  sustained  with  excel- 
lent discrimination  throughout  the  play. 

If  I  should  be  able  to  visit  London  this  year,  it  will  be  when  there 
is  a  chance  of  being  less  jostled  by  the  crowd  at  the  Grand  Exhibition 
than  there  could  be  at  present ;  but  I  grow  more  and  more  like  the 
limpet  on  the  rock. 

Fechter,  I  fancy,  must  be  growing  by  degrees  less  in  general  opinion, 
which,  upon  the  marvel  of  a  foreigner  doing  so  much,  had  given  him 
credit  for  more  than  he  really  could  do. 

I  cannot  imagine  the  effect  of  painted  sculpture,  but  to  judge,  one 
must  of  course  see,  and  your  approval  staggers  my  preconceived  no- 
tions. I  am  always, 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

W.  C.  MACKEADY. 

P.  S.  —  Have  you  read  "  Les  Miserables  ?  " 


6  WELLINGTON  SQUARE,  CHELTENHAM,  August  7th,  1862. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  By  this  time  I  fancy  you  have  put 
aside  your  maps  and  handbooks,  having  made  out  the  track  you  intend 
to  pursue  in  your  autumnal  holiday.  May  it  give  you  both  all  the 
pleasure  you  can  anticipate  from  it,  and  much  more  to  boot !  But 
will  you  let  me  inquire  if  Cheltenham  comes  within  its  outward  or 
homeward  course  ?  Why  I  tease  you  with  this  inquiry  is,  that  I  am 
deferring  the  settlement  of  a  domestic  ceremony  until  1  learn  whether 
my  friend  Pollock  and  you  can  be  present  at  it.  I  may  say,  with  the 
most  unchristian  king,  "  I  long  to  have  this  young  one  made  a  Chris- 
tian." Now,  if  you  were  likely  to  pass  this  way,  I  would  put  off  the 
naming  of  the  young  gentleman  until  your  arrival,  which  for  numbers 
of  reasons  needless  to  be  recited,  I  should  prefer  to  engaging  a  proxy. 
But  with  distance  and  limitation  of  time,  I  am  aware  we  cannot,  as 
St.  Paul  says,  always  "  do  the  things  we  would."  If  you  can  do  this, 
I  feel  assured  it  will  be  done  ;  and  if  you  cannot,  I  shall  not  less  feel 
that  all  your  wishes  will  be  with  us. 

I  have  been  taking  Johnny  to  Tavistock  to  initiate  him  in  discipline, 
which  he  never  would  get  at  home.  I  look  in  all  the  Eton  reports  for 
the  possible  mention  of  the  sons  of  Cornelia.  To-day  is  the  birthday 
of  my  Willie,  who  has  at  last  got  his  promotion,  and  is  doing  as  well 
as  his  precarious  health  will  allow  him  to  do.  I  hope  his  younger 
brothers  may  turn  out  as  conscientious  and  honorable  men  as  he  has 
shown  himself.  I  am  always, 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


G96  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

6  WELLINGTON  SQUARE,  CHELTENHAM,  January  9tli,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  With  all  my  heart  do  I  reciprocate 
the  good  wishes  that  the  season  suggests,  which  you  have  so  kindly  ex- 
pressed, for  which  I  most  truly  thank  you,  and  which  I  should  have 
acknowledged  some  days  since,  if  this  intense  frost,  in  its  dissolution, 
had  permitted  a  more  active  play  of  my  fingers,  and  a  release  from  the 
torpid  state  in  which  I  seem  to  have  been  during  the  last  few  days. 
I  cannot  recollect  when  I  have  been  so  sensible  of  the  numbing 
effects  of  winter,  — but  at  this,  I  suppose,  I  am  not  to  wonder,  as  one 
of  the  changes  which  time  in  its  course  brings  on.  We  were  indeed 
glad  to  hear  of  Walter's  success,  though  it  caused  us  no  surprise,  for  I 
look  on  your  boys  as  sure  of  their  advancement.  I  wish  I  knew  or 
could  practice  your  method  of  stimulating  the  dispositions  of  your 
children  to  work.  I  had  thought  that  the  mode  of  enticement  by  nar- 
rations, pictures,  and  suggestive  means,  would  do,  but  experience  has 
proved  to  me  that  this  is  too  luxurious  a  system,  and  I  have  noticed 
success  in  dry  and  severe  discipline  (which  you  do  not  use),  where  my 
endeavors  have  been  comparative  failures. 

I  should  like  very  much  to  make  one  of  the  audience  at  your  play, 
but  my  visits  to  London,  when  made,  are  generally,  if  not  always  now, 
serious  affairs.  The  stage  has  lost  all  its  interest  for  me.  I  do  not  know 
the  names  of  the  new  performers ;  and  the  praises  I  see  lavished  on 
the  old  ones,  whom  I  do  know,  I  cannot  put  faith  in.  I  see  no  peri- 
odicals except  "  La  Revue,"  which  comes  every  fortnight,  and  occasion- 
ally an  "  Edinburgh  "  or  •'  Quarterly  ; "  but  I  shall  send  for  the  Decem- 
ber number  of  "  Fraser  "  for  the  pleasure  of  reading  your  article.  I 
have  merely  seen  an  abstract  of  Kenan's  book  ;  but  the  opinions  of 
others  do  not  touch  the  faith  in  which  I  have  satisfied  myself,  though 
I  respect  the  sincerity  of  others,  whatever  shape  it  may  assume.  I 
never  hear  the  name  of  Aubrey  de  Vere  without  deep  interest,  for  he 
appeared  to  me  one  of  the  most  engaging  persons  I  ever  held  converse 
with.  If  he  is  happy  in  his  full  persuasion,  who  shall  raise  a  question 
on  it?  .  I  have  not  read,  though  I  much  wish  to  read,  Froude,  but  my 
days  are  now  so  short,  and  I  get  so  little  done  in  them,  that  I  despair 
of  accomplishing  that  wish,  with  many  others  of  a  similar  kind. 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


G  WELLINGTON  SQUARE,  CHELTENHAM,  MH\J  7t/i,  1864. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK, —  A  certain  space  in  life,  a  certain 
amount  of  duty  to  be  done,  is  apportioned  to  each  of  us,  and  when 
that  space  has  been  occupied  and  our  obligations  to  duty  discharged, 
the  shelter  of  a  quiet  home  has  more  of  real  respectability,  I  think, 
than  the  repeated  returns  to  public  life,  which  public  characters  too 
often  make.  I  received  applications  both  from  the  Stratford  and  Lon- 
don Committees  to  give  a  "  taste  of  my  quality  "  in  whatever  way  I 


LETTERS.  697 

might  think  preferable  ;  but  as  I  could  not  show  my  devotion  to  the 
genius  of  Shakespeare  with  the  power  I  once  possessed,  I  would  offer 
no  unworthy  incense  at  his  shrine ;  and  declined  exhibiting  myself  at 
either  celebration.  The  London  affair  has  indeed  proved  a  most 
ridiculous  fiasco  —  it  has  "  died  indeed  and  made  no  sign."  Of  the 
present  race  of  actors  I  may  say,  with  the  exception  of  three  or  four, 
I  know  nothing,  and  from  the  little  I  have  seen,  since  I  left  London, 
the  audiences  seem  to  have  changed  with  the  performers.  But  has 
not  this  always  been  the  case  ?  —  that  the  retired  artist  thinks  his  art 
deteriorated  since  he-  quitted  the  exercise  of  it  ?  I  fancy  it  must  be  so, 
and  to  the  rising  generation  the  same  excitement  will  be  kindled  by 
the  race  to  come,  as  was  by  that  which  has  passed  away.  I  envy  you 
the  privilege  of  attending  those  delightful  lectures.  My  life  is  made 
up  of  reading  and  taking  care  of  the  remnant  of  health  that  is  left  to 
me,  and  so  it  must  be  now  to  the  end,  whenever  that  is  to  be. 

I  am  always, 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


6  WELLINGTON  SQUARE,  CHELTENHAM,  October  23d,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK, —  From  your  late  poetical  intercourse, 
how  can  you  with  patience  descend  to  the  prosaic  communications  of 
one  "  infirm  and  old,"  whose  highest  efforts  were  to  give  voice  to  oth- 
ers' inspirations  ?  You  must  look  for  a  very  dull  and  matter-of-fact 
reply  to  your  very  interesting  letter.  Of  my  home  news  all  I  have 
to  tell  you  is,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  good.  My  parting  with  dear 
.Butty  was  alleviated,  as  much  as  it  could  be,  by  the  comfortable  ar- 
rangements of  her  berth  and  the  agreeable  companions  under  whose 
protection  she  was  placed.  We  had  letters  from  herself,  dated  Malta, 
giving  us  a  very  cheerful  account  of  her  progress  so  far,  and  news  of 
her  from  Aden  in  a  letter  to  some  friends  here,  whose  relatives  had 
joined  the  packet  at  Suez.  Our  next  advices  from  Ceylon  we  expect 
will  announce  to  us  her  safe  arrival.  Your  account  of  the  friends,  who 
must  have  made  your  villeggiatura l  so  agreeable,  awake  many  pleasing 
memories.  I  always  think  of  Henry  Taylor  with  undiminished 
admiration  and  regard,  and  Mrs.  Cameron  is  one  of  those  enthusi- 
astic beings  who  take  a  strong  hold  on  one's  memory.  Of  Mr.  Trol- 
lope  I  hear  much,  but  unhappily  have  not  had  time  to  make  acquaint- 
ance with  his  much-praised  works.  Tennyson  is  "  himself  alone " 
and  almost  in  danger  of  being  spoiled,  I  should  imagine,  by  the  uni- 
versal homage  that  is  paid  to  his  genius. 

You  are  quite  correct  in  the  assertion,  that  Tate's  "  King  Lear " 
was  the  only  acting  copy  from  the  date  of  its  production  until  the 
restoration  of  Shakespeare's  tragedy  at  Covent  Garden  in  1838.  Pre- 
vious to  that,  I  think  in  the  year  1823,  or  a  little  later,  the  play,  Tate's, 

1  At  Freshwater,  in  the  Tale  of  Wight. 


698  MACREADY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

was  acted  by  Kean  with  the  last  scene  of  the  original  restored.  I  be- 
lieve the  elder  Colman  put  out  an  alteration,  but  I  question  whether 
it  was  acted  ;  certainly  it  did  not  hold  its  place  on  the  stage.  I  find, 
upon  further  search,  that  Colman  did  make  an  alteration  of  the  play. 
Here  is  all  I  can  tell  you  of  it :  — 

"  The  History  of  King  Lear.  Altered  from  Shakespeare.  Acted 
at  Covent  Garden.  8vo.  1768." 

This  is  given  under  the  works  of  George  Colman.  Powell  must 
have  been  the  actor  who  represented  Lear,  but  it  could  not  have  en- 
joyed any  popularity.  Garrick  adhered  to  Tate,  and  Kemble  followed 
him  in  it.  Always, 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


6  WELLINGTON  SQUARE,  CHELTENHAM,  Noremler  5tk,  1865. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  You  have  anticipated  by  some  days 
a  letter  which  I  intended  writing  to  you,  and  so  have  deprived  it  of 
the  grace  of  seeming  to  be  spontaneous.  In  other  words,  I  have  been 
waiting  for  the  publication  of  Katie's  book,  a  copy  of  which  I  have 
destined  to  you :  the  one  sent  to  Henry  Taylor  was  a  presentation 
copy,  and  in  advance  of  the  public  distribution,  for  which  I  am  rather 
impatiently  waiting.  Moxon  is  the  publisher.  You  will  think  it,  I 
fancy,  an  improvement  upon  her  former  attempt.  She  received  a  very 
gratifying  acknowledgment  from  the  poet  under  whose  auspices  she 
commits  her  work  to  the  public  judgment. 

You  kindly  wish  to  know  how  I  am,  and  what  I  am  doing.  I  can 
scarcely  bring  myself  to  a  certainty  as  to  how  I  am.  I  went  to  the  sea- 
side, Teignmouth,  for  a  month,  in  September,  but  was  obliged  to  come 
away  before  a  fortnight  had  expired.  Still  I  have  as  little  to  complain 
of,  I  believe,  as  most  people  of  my  age.  In  regard  to  my  occupation 
I  think  of  myself  as  very  good-for-nothing,  doing  but  little,  and  that 
little  not  well.  "  Le  Cheval "  1  I  read,  and  thought  it  abounding  in 
spirit,  but  I  never  could  think  French  the  language  for  poetry.  There 
were  passages  in  it  that  recalled  to  me  Retzsch's  outlines  of  Schiller's 
'•  Pegasus,"  with  which  I  take  it  for  granted  you  are  well  acquainted, 
and  I  only  know  through  the  artist's  interpretation. 

Are  you  aware  who  are  the  writers  in  the  "  Pall  Mall  Gazette  ?  " 
There  are  some  able  hands  upon  it,  and  it  has  apparently  good  sources 
of  information,  to  judge  by  the  occasional  quotations  from  it  in  the 
"  Times."  There  was,  some  weeks  since,  a  notice  or  remembrance  of 
myself  in  it — not  in  an  unfriendly  spirit. 

Will  you  give  my  love  to  my  friend  Pollock,  and  tell  him  hia  little 
godson  grows  a  monstrous  big  fellow  ?  My  reports  from  Ceylon  are 
very  good,  and  those  around  me  here  are  all  well,  thank  God.  I  do 

1  By  Victor  Hugo. 


LETTERS.  699 

not  expect  to  see  London  soon ;  I  certainly  should  not  see  it  without 
seeing  you  ;  but  I  must  satisfy  myself  with  assuring  you  that 

1  am, 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 


6  WELLINGTON  SQUAEE,  CHELTENHAM,  December  30th,  1866. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  I  lament  to  say  that  I  do  forget 
much  that  I  wish  and  strive  to  remember  ;  but  the  many  happy  hours 
which  the  blessing  of  friendship  has  cheered  my  life  with,  have  stamped 
themselves  too  deeply  on  my  memory  ever  to  be  obliterated. 

There  are  many  reasons  to  be  given  for  my  inertness  as  a  corre- 
spondent, with  which  if  I  began  to  trouble  you,  my  reply  to  your  kind 
inquiries  might  prove  little  more  than  a  series  of  lamentings  and  com- 
plainings. I  rejoiced  in  your  account  of  the  activity  of  the  ex-Chief 
Baron,  but  he  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  his  age  ;  and  whilst  I  forbear 
to  envy  his  undiminished  power  of  mind  and  body,  I  cannot  but  wish 
that  my  own  youth  had  lasted  as  his  does.  It  becomes  an  effort  now 
to  me  to  write.  I  mix  but  little  with  the  world,  and  live  chiefly  in 
books.  My  hands,  too,  no  longer  remember  their  "  cunning,"  so  that 
a  letter  (as  you  may  readily  suppose  from  this  specimen)  becomes  a 
task  for  me.  I  remain, 

Ever  most  sincerely  yours, 

W.  C.  MACREADY. 

A  Happy  New  Year  to  you  all,  and  many,  many  of  them. 


6,  WELLINGTON  SQUARE,  CHELTENHAM,  November  I4tfi,  1867. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  POLLOCK,  —  The  sight  of  your  handwriting  was  a 
great  pleasure  to  me,  which  I  shall  be  glad  to  be  able  more  readily  to 
express  ;  but  I  write  with  difficulty,  and  must  limit  my  compliance  with 
your  kind  wish  to  hear  from  me  to  the  "  few  lines  "  your  friendly  con- 
sideration allows  me  to  return  for  your  more  extended  and  interesting 
communications. 

I  am,  thank  God,  better  of  late  ;  but  still  fluctuate  between  ailing 
and  convalescence,  as  I  have  done  ever  since  the  illness  of  last  winter. 
My  dear  inmates  are  all  tolerably  well,  and  write  in  cordial  wishes  and 
affectionate  regard  to  you  and  yours.  I  shall  read  the  article  in  the 
"  Quarterly,"  though  I  fancy  I  shall  have  anticipated  most  of  its  mat- 
ter by  my  perusal  of  the  paper  on  "  Le  Judaisme"  in  the  "  Revue." 

My  hand  will  not  obey  my  wish,  and  so,  with  kind  love  to  my 
friend  Pollock,  and  very  affectionate  thought  to  yourself, 
I  remain,  dear  Mrs.  Pollock, 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

This  is  a  sorry  sight ! 1  "W.  C.  MACREADY. 

1  Macready's  handwriting  had  now  become  very  imperfect. 


700  MAC  READY  IN  RETIREMENT. 

The  death  of  his  daughter  Catherine  in  1869  gave  Macready  a  pro- 
found shock,  from  which  he  never  recovered.  The  ties  of  domestic 
affection  between  the  father  and  daughter  had  been  strengthened  by 
much  sympathy  in  temperament  and  in  their  tastes  ;  and  they  had  in 
no  degree  been  loosened  by  Macready's  second  marriage,  which  added 
much  to  the  happiness  and  comfort  of  his  family,  as  well  as  to  his 
own. 

In  the  month  of  March  of  this  year  he  went  from  Cheltenham  to 
Plymouth  with  his  wife  to  receive  his  daughter  upon  her  return  from 
Madeira,  where  she  had  been  passing  the  winter  for  the  benefit  of  her 
health.  After  twelve  days  of  anxious  waiting  the  vessel  arrived  by 
which  she  was  expected  to  come  home,  but  only  to  bring  the  story 
of  her  death  on  the  voyage,  and  of  the  committal  of  her  remains  to  the 
sea. 

From  this  time  he  would  frequently  lament  his  inability  to  guide  his 
pen  and  to  write  his  own  letters  —  a  task  from  which  he  had  never 
formerly  retreated,  even  in  the  days  of  his  busiest  occupation. 

The  death  of  Dickens,  in  1870,  was  another  severe  sorrow  which 
pressed  heavily  on  Macready.  It  was  the  loss  of  a  constant  and  affec- 
tionate friendship  of  many  years. 

In  his  later  years  Macready  would  spend  many  hours  daily  in  lis- 
tening to  reading,  or  would  find  amusement  in  resorting  to  the  rich 
stores  of  his  own  memory,  which  to  the  last  never  failed  him.  On 
one  occasion,  after  his  powers  had  so  much  failed  that  it  was  long 
since  he  had  been  capable  of  holding  or  reading  a  book  to  himself, 
he  said  he  had  been  reading  "  Hamlet."  On  some  surprise  being  ex- 
pressed, he  touched  his  forehead,  said  "  Here  ;  "  and  when  asked  if  he 
could  recollect  the  whole  play,  he  replied,  "  Yes,  every  word,  every 
pause,  and  the  very  pauses  have  eloquence." 

In  the  spring  of  1871  Macready  visited  London  in  order  to  con- 
sult Sir  Henry  Thompson,  from  whose  skill  and  excellent  treatment 
he  obtained  great  relief.  After  this  the  decay  of  strength  was  very 
gradual,  and  almost  imperceptible.  The  same  year  brought  another 
affliction  in  the  death  of  his  son  William,  in  Ceylon.  He  left  home 
for  the. last  time  in  August,  1872,  to  spend  a  few  weeks  at  Weston- 
super-Mare. 

The  last  legible  entries  in  his  Diary,  written  with  a  trembling  hand. 
are :  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner,"  and  "  Lord,  I  believe :  help 
Thou  my  unbelief." 

The  end  was  hastened  by  a  slight  bronchial  attack,  from  which  he 
had  not  strength  to  rally.  After  three  days  of  confinement  to  his  bed, 
without  any  apparent  suffering,  and  retaining  consciousness  to  the 
last,  at  eight  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  Sunday,  27th  of  April,  1873, 
he  passed  away  without  any  sign  to  tell  that  he  was  gone. 

The  funeral  took  place  at  Kensal  Green  on  the  4th  of  May,  1873. 
Macready  had  left  minute  instructions  in  writing  to  regulate  all  the 
proceedings.  The  coffin  was  brought  from  Cheltenham  to  the  Great 
Western  Hotel,  where  the  mourners  assembled  before  proceeding  to 


FUNERAL  AT  KEN  SAL   GREEN.  701 

the  Cemetery.  These  were  his  sons,  Jonathan  Forster  and  Cecil 
Frederick  Nevil ;  his  widow's  brothers,  the  Rev.  Edward  Spencer  and 
Mr.  William  Spencer ;  his  kinsman,  the  Rev.  George  Bucknill,  of 
Rugby  ;  Mr.  Lowne  ;  Mr.  John  Forster  ;  the  Rev.  J.  Fleming  and 
Sir  Frederick  Pollock,  his  executors.  A  large  assembly  awaited  the 
arrival  of  the  procession  at  the  chapel  in  the  Cemetery.  There  were 
many  well-known  faces,  and  many  members  of  the  theatrical  profes- 
sion of  the  past  and  present  generation.  The  service  was  read  in  the 
chapel  by  Mr.  Fleming,  and  after  the  coffin  had  sunk  slowly  through 
the  square  opening  in  the  pavement,  which,  in  the  case  of  interment 
in  the  vault  beneath  the  chapel,  represents  the  open  grave,  he  spoke  a 
few  beautiful  and  affecting  words  of  farewell.  The  coffin  was  deposited 
among  those  of  the  many  dear  ones  of  his  family  who  already  lay 
there,  and,  subsequently,  Macready's  own  name  was  added  to  those 
upon  the  marble  tablet  previously  placed  in  the  chapel  by  himself, 
which  is  thus  inscribed  :  — 


702  TABLET  AT  KENSAL   GREEN. 


<ti  gitoefrrtmo." 


I  N     MEMORY    OF 

WILLIAM   CHARLES   MACREADY. 

BORN     MARCH     3,     1793,     DIED     APRIL     27,     1873. 

CATHERINE   FRANCES,  WIFE  OF  WILLIAM   CHARLES   MACREADY. 

BORN     NOVEMBER    II,     1806,     DIED    SEPTEMBER    18,     1852. 


AND  OF   LETITIA    MARGARET, 

SISTER    AND    FRIEND    OF    WILLIAM    CHARLES    MACREADY. 
BORN    DEC.    4,    1794,    DIED    NOV.    8,    1858. 

IN    THE   SAME   VAULT    LIE   THE    REMAINS    OF    W.  C.   MACREADY'S    CHILDREN. 

HARRIET  JOANNA BORN  JULY  13,  1837  .  DIED  NOV.  25,  1840. 

CHRISTINA  LETITIA BORN  DEC.  26,  1830  .  DIED  FEB.  24,  isso. 

WALTER   FRANCIS  SHEIL  ....   BORN  JUNE  27,  1840  .  DIED  FEB.  3,  1853 
HENRY  FREDERICK  BULWER    .   .   BORN  DEC.  20,  1838  .  DIED  AUG.  12,  1857. 

LYDIA   JANE    .  ...    BORN  DEC.  26,  1842  .   DIED  JUNE  20,  1858. 


ALSO  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  CATHERINE   FRANCES    BIRCH    MACREADY, 

SECOND    DAUGHTER   OF  W.   C.    MACREADY, 

BORN   JULY    21,    1835,    DIED   AND    BURIED   AT   SEA  ON    HER   VOYAGE 
FROM    MADEIRA,    MARCH    24,    1869. 


WILLIAM   CHARLES,  ELDEST  SON  OF  w.  c.  MACREADY.  BORN  AUGUST  7,  1332. 

DIED  NOVEMBER  26,  1871,  AT  PUTTALAM,  CEYLON,  AND  WAS  BURIED  AT  KANDY. 

"THEY  ALIKE  IN  TREMBLING  HOPE  REPOSE, 
THE  BOSOM  OF  THEIR  FATHER  AND    THEIR   GOD.1' 


INDEX. 


(THE  TITLES  OF  PLAYS,  ETC.,  ABE  FKIXTED  is  Italics.) 


ABBOTT,  WILLIAM  (actor),  91, 151, 155, 
201,317. 

Aberdeen,  Theater  Eoyal,  Macready's 
engagement,  at,  156,  618. 

Abrahall,  Mr.,  291. 

Achmet,  Barbarossa,  Macready  as,  32. 

Ads  and  Galatea,  488,  493,  495. 

Adam  Bede,  686. 

Adams,  Mr.  Sergeant,  631. 

Adelphi  Theater,  337. 

Ainsworth,  Henry  (author),  243. 

Alabama,  K.  526. 

"Aladdin,"  Macready  as,  56,  66. 

Albany  (America),  Macready  at,  535. 

Albert,  H.  R.  H.  Prince,  609, 631, 647. 

Albyn,  Countess  of  Salisbury,  Macready 
as,  33. 

Alexander,  Alexander  the  Great,  Ma- 
cready as,  39,  68. 

"Alfred  the  Great,"  Macready  as,  244. 

Algarotti,  Signer,  258. 

Alison,  Mr.  (historian),  545. 

Allan  Mr.  W.,  503,  553,  554. 

Allan,  Mr.  (painter),  268. 

Alsop,  Mrs.  (actress),  82. 

Ambrogetti,  Signor,  386. 

America,  Macready's  professional  tours 
in,  226  et  seq.,  510  et  seq.,  578  et  seq.  ; 
slavery  in  the  Southern  States  of, 
518  et'seq. 

American  celebrities,  512  et  seq.,  578  et 
seq. 

Amherst,  G.  A.  (actor),  139. 

Amurath,  Balamira,  Macready  as,  120. 

Anderson,  James  (actor),  434,  451,470. 

Anfossi,  Signor  (musician),  385. 

Angelo,  the  fencing-master,  24,  316. 

Anze,  530. 

Apostate,  The,  Shell's  play,  105. 

Aranza,  The  Honeymoon,  Macready  as 
Duke,  36,  77. 

Arbroath  Theater,  Macready's  appear- 
ance at,  205. 

Ariel,  The  Tempest,  438. 

Arnold,  Thomas  (translator  of  Ecimont), 
291. 


Arnold,  Dr.  (Rugby  School),  499. 
Arqua,  Macready's  visit  to,  181  ;  a  vet- 

turino  at,  ib. 

Arthur's  Seat,  Edinburgh,  555. 
Ashby  Theater,  Macready's  appearance 

at  the,  243. 

Astor  Place,  riot,  594  et  seq. 
"Athelwold,"  Macready  as,  503. 
Athenaeum  Club,  300,  435,  503,  680. 
Athenian  Captive,  421,  426. 
Atkins,  Mr.,  Macready's  father-in-law, 

161,203. 

Atkinson,  Joseph,  73. 
Auburn  (America),  Macready  at,  535. 
Austen,  Miss  (authoress),  Macready's 

remarks  upon,  300,  378. 
Austin,  Mr.,  540. 
Avery,  Mr.,  674. 

Babbage,  Charles,  434,  453,  494,  546, 
680. 

Back,  Sir  George,  631,  632. 

Bacon,  Francis,  434. 

Baillie,  Joanna  (authoress),  35,  169, 
354,  675. 

Bajazet,  Macready's  criticism  of,  292. 

Baldwin,  Mr.  (M.  P.  for  Totnes),  163. 

Balfe,  Mr.  (musical  composer),  402. 

Baltimore  (America),  Macreadv  at,  232, 
584. 

Bancroft,  Mr.  (American  Minister),  564. 

Banim,  Mr.  (author),  164. 

Barber,  Dr.,  111,113,  120. 

Barbier,  M.,  540. 

Barham,  Mr.,  374,  471. 

Barker,  George,  621. 

Barnard  Castle,  57. 

Barry,  Spranger  (actor),  33,  36,  122. 

Bartley,  George  (actor),  201,287,300, 
361/362,  401,  402,  403,  412,  432. 

Bates,  Mr.  (American  manager),  590 
et  seq. 

Bath,  Theater  Royal,  Macready's  en- 
gagements at  the,  66,  74,  82,  223,  237, 
241,  242,  244,  254,  325,  328,  356,  565, 
60S. 


704 


INDEX. 


Beauvalet,  M.  (actor),  538. 

Header,  S.  (author),  138,  148,  477. 

Becher,  Sir  W.  W.,  130. 

Becher,  Lady  (see  O'Neil). 

Belcour,  West  Indian,  Macready  as,  58. 

Belfast,  Theater  Royal,  Macready's  en- 
gagements at  the,'  215,  218,  241,  242, 
551,  565. 

Belgium  and  Holland,  Macready's  tour 
through,  568. 

Bell,  Mr.  (journalist),  430. 

Bellew,  Mr.,  653. 

Benedict,  Much  Ado  About  No'hing,  77, 
502,  513,  531. 

Bentinck,  Mr.  George,  631. 

Berkeley,  Colonel,  156. 

Berual/Mr.,  244. 

Berlin,  M.  (journalist),  537. 

"Bertram,"  Macready  in,  88. 

Bertrand,  General,  513. 

Bertulphe,  Provost  of  Bruges,  Macready 
as,  351,  354,  357,  393. 

Berwick,  Theater  Royal,  Macready  at, 
60,  109. 

Betty,  W.  H.  West  (Young  Roscius)  in 
Richard  III.,  12;  wonderful  popular- 
ity of,  1 2  ;  re-appearance  at  Bath  of, 
43 ;  criticism  upon,  44 ;  acts  with 
Macready  at  Glasgow,  53  et  seq. ;  in 
the  characters  of  Osmyn  and  Sir  Ed- 
ward Mortimer,  4. 

Beverley,  The  Gamester,  Macready  as, 
39. 

Beverley,  All  in  the  Wrong,  Macready 
as,  58. 

Billington,  Mrs.  (vocalist),  4. 

Birch,  Colonel,  55. 

Birch,  Jonathan,  581,  586. 

Birch,  Thomas,  etc.,  12. 

Birch,  William,  8, 12,  13,  14,  15,  20,  22, 
39,  77,  79,  127,  131,  256. 

Birmingham,  Theater  Royal,  4,  167, 
223,  240,  241,  243,  377,  4"l5,  479,  482, 
498,  548,  602,  606,  614  et  seq. 

Biron,  The  Fatal  Marriage,  Macready 
as,  139. 

Burr,  Colonel,  229. 

Bish,  Mr.  (lottery  office  keeper),  223. 

Bishop,  Mr.  (afterwards  Sir  Henry 
Bishop),  52. 

Bishop,  Mrs.  (vocalist),  52. 

Blackburn,  Theater  Royal,  Mam-ad  \  's 
engagement  at,  215. 

Blanchard,  William  (actor)  117,  165. 

Bleak  House,  663. 

Blessing-ton,  Lady,  244,  390,  399,  409, 
469,  560. 

Blisset,  Mr.  (actor),  as  Falstaff,  4. 

Blue  Beard,  by  Monk  Lewis,  37. 

Booth,  Mr.  (actor),  as  Richard  III.,  101; 


at  Drury  Lane  with  Edmund  Kcan,  i/..; 
re-appearance  at  Covent  Garden,  102  ; 
otherwise  mentioned,  103,  126,  149. 

Booth,  Miss  Sarah  (actress),  121. 

Boston,  Macready's  appearance  at,  322. 

Boston  (America),  Macready's  engage- 
ment at,  231,  511,  513,  578,  597  tt  seq. 

Bouchier,  Captain,  356. 

Bowery  Theater,  New  York,  230. 

Boxall,  R.  A.,  Sir  W.,  631. 

Bradbury  and  Evans,  Messrs.  549,  550, 
631. 

Bradwell,  Mr.  (theatrical  decorator  and 
mechanician),  438. 

Bragelone,  La  Valliere,  Macrcadv  :is, 
389. 

Braham,  John  (vocalist),  207,  271,  547. 

Bridal,  The,  335,  340,  342,  351,  370, 
401,  403  et  seq.,  515,  535  et  seq. 

Bridges,  Sir  J.,  422. 

Bridgewatcr  Theater,  Macready's  en- 
gagement at,  240. 

Brighton,  Theater  Royal,  Macready's 
engagements  at,  147,  209,  241,  280, 
324,  606. 

Brindal,  Mr.  (actor),  361. 

Bristol,  Theater  Royal,  127,  136,  169, 
215,  223,  225,  241,  242,  244,  254,  327, 
350,  384,  414,  608. 

Brockedon,  Mr.  (artist),  334,  424. 

Brooke,  G.  V.  (actor),  544. 

Brookfield,  Rev.  W.  H.,  630,  652. 

Brougham's  Natural  Theolo;/y,  339. 

Browning,  Robert  (poet),  347,  348,  354, 
373,  380,  387,  397,  502. 

Bruce,  Lord  Ernest,  630. 

Brunton,  Mr.  Richard  (Theater  Royal, 
Birmingham),  223,  224. 

Brutus,  Julius  Caesar,  Macreadv  at,  388, 
503,  544,  572,  600,  620,  625,  etc. 

Bryant,  Mr.  (American  poet),  512,  580. 

Bucknills,  the,  248,  257,.  276,  701. 

Buckstone,  J.  B.  (actor),  408. 

Buffalo  (America),  Macready  at,  535. 

Bull,  Ole  (musician),  393. 

Buller,  Mr.  Charles,  352,  367,  585. 

Bulteel,  Lady  Elizabeth,  564. 

Bulwer,  Sir  Edward  (afterwards  Lord 
Lytton ),  320,  336,  355  et  seq.,  382,  385, 
38*7,  390,  399,  421,  423,  425,  426,  443, 
447,  462,  472,  631,  632,  639,  647. 

Bunn,  Mr.  (lessee  of  Drury  Lane  Thea- 
ter), 243,  260,  270,  281,  303,  310,  331, 
339,  342,  345,  351  et  seq.,  355,  359, 360, 
365,  367,  370,  374. 

Bunn,  Mrs.  (actress),  138. 

Bunsen,  Chevalier,  507,  642. 

Burdon,  Mr.,  114. 

Burgess,  Sir  J.  B.  (author),  33,  286. 

Burns,  Robert,  676.  (, 


INDEX. 


705 


Bury  St.  Edmunds,  Theater  Royal, 
Macready's  engagement  at,  240. 

Butler,  Mrs.,  447. 

Butler,  Dr.  (Shrewsbury  School),  16. 

Byron,  Lord,  anecdote  of,  78  ;  on  Lord 
Carlisle's  poems,  165  ;  memorial  of, 
302  ;  Foscari,  by,  460  ;  otherwise 
mentioned,  171,  196,  259,  353,  412, 
425. 

Cains  Gracchus,  Knowles's  tragedy  of, 

206,  210  et  set). 
Caius   Gracchus,   Macready  as,  211  et 

seq. 
Calcraft,  Mr.  (manager),  263,  340,  378, 

392,  395. 

Cambridge,  H.  R.  H.  the  Duke  of,  505. 
Cambridge,  Theater  Royal,  240. 
Cambridge,  private  theatricals  at,  380 ; 

Hamlet,  reading  at,  627. 
Cambridge  (America),  578  et  seq. 
Cameron,  Mrs.,  697. 
Campbell,  Mr.  (sculptor),  508,  551,  605. 
Captain  Absolute,  The  Rivals,  Macready 

as,  61. 
Captain  Plume,  The  Recruiting  Officer, 

Macready  as,  52. 
Cardiff,  Theater  Royal,  240. 
Gary,  Rev.  Mr.  (translator  of  Dante), 

163. 

Carlisle,  Lord,  165  et  seq. 
Carlisle,  Theater  at,  built  by  Macready 

Senior,  59  ;  success  of  theater  at,  61 ; 

Macready's  subsequent  engagements 

at,  109,  168,  205. 
Carlyle,    Thomas,  468,    509,    616,    685, 

689. 

Carroll,  Charles,  232. 
Cartwright,  Major,  160. 
Casaubon,  692. 
Caseta  (America),  525. 
Cassius,  JidiustCcBsar,  Macready  as,  129, 

170,  215,  242. 
Castlecoote,  Lord,  73. 
Castlereagh,  Lord,  335. 
Castle  ofPaluzzi,  121. 
Catalaui,  Signora  (vocalist),  in  Cos!  fun 

tutte,  32 ;  otherwise  mentioned,  33, 37, 

208. 

Cattermole,  Mr.  J.  (painter),  348,  631. 
Cave,  Mr.  Otway,  189. 
Chalk,  Rev.  Mr.,  250,  291,  347,371,  etc. 
Chamont,   The    Orphan,   Macready  as, 

39. 
Chantrey,   Sir  F.   (sculptor),  288,  296 

et  seq.,  304,  474,  475,  508. 
Charles  II.,  Royal  Oak,  Macready  as, 

36,  39. 
Charles  II.,  Royal  Oak,  Young  Roscius 

as,  53. 

45 


Charleston  (America),  Macready  at, 
517. 

Charlton,  Mr.  (T.  R,  Bath),  66. 

Cheltenham,  Theater  Royal,  167,  383. 

Cheltenham  in  1793,  2;  Macready  set- 
tles at,  687  et  seq. 

Chester,  Theater  Royal,  7,  218,  607. 

Chesterfield,  Macready's  engagement 
at,  318. 

Cheverille,  The  Deserted  Daughter,  Ma- 
cready as,  74. 

Chisholm,  the,  367,  etc. 

Chitty,  Mr.  T.,  631. 

Chorlev,  Mr.  (musical  critic),  426. 

Christie,  Mr.,  337. 

Cibber,  Colley,  161. 

Cincinnati,  Macready's  performances 
in  533 ;  disgraceful  occurrence  at, 
590,  591. 

Clanricarde,  Lord,  630. 

Clarissa  Harlowe,  Macready's  remarks 
upon,  663. 

Clark,  Sir  James,  193. 

Claude  Melnotte,  Lady  of  Lyons,  Ma- 
cready as,  423,  426,  429,  435,  519. 

Clay,  Mr.  Henry,  528,  588. 

Clifford,  Mrs.  W.  (actress),  407. 

Clinch,  Larry  (actor),  36. 

Cloup,  M.  (manager),  334. 

Clytus,  Alexander  the  Great,  Macreadv 
as,  139. 

Coach-traveling  in  1811,  34. 

Coal  mine,  Macready's  visit  to  a,  123. 

Cobden,  Richard,  503,  507. 

Cockburn,  Lord,  556. 

Codrington,  Sir  Edward,  506. 

Colburn,  Mr.  H.,  631. 

Colchester,  Theater  Royal,  240. 

Golden,  Mr.  D.,  512,  546,  535,  592. 

Coleraine,  Macready's  engagement  at, 
242. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  274,  313,  382. 

Coleridge,  Mr.  Justice,  625. 

Collier,  John  Paine,  630,  667. 

Collins,  Mr.,  287. 

Collins,  Wilkie  (author),  657. 

Colman,  George,  6. 

Colman,  George  (the  younger),  171,  698. 

Colnaghi,  Mr.,  631. 

Colonel  Briton,  The  Wonder,  Macready 
as,  61. 

Colonel  Green,  The  Secretary.  503. 

Comus  at  Drury  Lane  Theater,  502. 

Comus,  Macready  in,  503. 

Connor  (actor),  141,  155. 

Comyn,  Sir  Robert  et  seq.,  188,  192  et 
seq.,  195,497. 

Conquest  of  Granada,  Macready's  re- 
marks on,  349. 

Conquest  of  Taranto,  102. 


706 


INDEX. 


Conservatoire  (Paris),  541. 

Consitelo,  Macready's  remarks  on,  562. 

C'onway,  Mr.  (actor),  at  Newcastle,  26  ; 
as  Macbeth,  28 ;  as  Glenalvon,  30 ; 
and  Mrs.  Piozzi,  80;  and  Theodore 
Hook,  214  ;  in  New  York,  230  et  seq. 

Conyngham,  Lord,  411,  418,  425,  450. 

Cooke,  G.  F.  (tragedian),  Macready 
studies  the  acting  of,  49  ;  as  Richard 
III.,  68  et  seq. 

Cooke,  T.  (composer),  484,  560. 

Cookesley,  Rev.  W.  G.,  630. 

Cooper,  John  (actor),  264,  266,  270  et 
seq.,  344,  351,  etc. 

Cormne,  340. 

Cork,  Theater  Royal,  218,  243. 

Coriolanus,  Macready  in,  147,  242,  289, 
290,  425,  etc. 

Cornwall,  Barry  (poet).    See  Procter. 

Costello,  Mr.  Dudley,  631. 

Count  Villars,  Education,  Macready  as, 
52. 

Country  theaters,  28. 

Covent  Garden  Theater,  0.  P.  Riots  at, 
23  ;  rental  of,  169 ;  Julius  Ccesar  at, 
170  ;  Bankruptcy  of  Committee,  201  ; 
Macready's  dispute  with  Committee, 
202  ;  closed  in  consequence  of  illness 
amongst  performers,  268  ;  Macready's 
first  season  as  manager  of,  270,  400, 
434 ;  Her  Majesty's  visits  to,  during 
Macready's  management,  417,  424, 
434,  449,  450 ;  Macready's  second 
season  as  manager  of,  440 ;  Ma- 
cready's company  at,  441,  458  ;  ruins 
of,  657  ;  otherwise  mentioned,  23,  27, 
36,  68,  77,  90,  101,  102,  118,  125,  136, 
137,  162,  351,  359,  369,  447. 

Cowley,  Lord  (Minister  at  Paris),  pri- 
vate theatricals  at  the  house  of,  540. 

Cowper,  William  (poet),  275. 

Cradock,  Colonel,  244. 

Craven,  Hon.  Keppcl,  630. 

Crawford,  Dr.,  196. 

Crisp,  Mr.  (manager),  83. 

Criticisms  upon  Macready's  acting,  66, 
92,  94  et  seq.,  103,  106,  120  et  seq.,  125 
et  seq.,  138  et  seq.,  142  et  seq.,  14«i,  152, 
155,  162  et  seq.,  171,  212,  238  tt  seq., 
282  et  seq.,  287.  299,  373,  380. 

Crowe,  Mrs.  (authoress),  555. 
Cumberland,  Richard  (dramatist),  677, 
Cunningham,  Allan  (author),  475. 
Cunningham,  P.,  631,  648. 
Cushman,  Miss  (actress),  512,  534,  569. 
Cymbeline,   Macready  in.   See  Posthu- 
mus  Lconatus. 

D'Aguilar,  Colonel  (author  of  Fiesco), 
246,  257  et  seq.,  340,  367,  393,  395. 


Daily  News,  648.' 

Damereau,  Cinti,  514. 

Damon,  Damon  and  Pythias,  Macready 
as,  164,  242. 

Dante,  670,  682. 

Daran  the  Exile,  Macready  as,  39. 

Darley,  Mr.  (author),  496. 

"  Davenant,"  Macready  as,  282. 

Davenport,  Mrs.  (actre'ss),  96,  165. 

David,  Pierre  Jean,  (sculptor),  557. 

D'Egville,  M.,  146. 

Delane,  John  T.,  487,  546,  550,  604,  630. 

Delaunay,  M.  (actor),  057. 

De  la  Roche,  M.  (painter),  561. 

De  Montfort,  Edmund  Kean  as,  169. 

Deuman,  Lord,  374,  429. 

Denvil,  Mr.  Henry  (actor),  350. 

Derby,  Lord,  664. 

Derby,  559. 

Derby  Theater,  167,606. 

Deserted  Daughter,  138. 

Devrient,  M.,  669. 

Devrient,  Mademoiselle  Schroeder  (vo- 
calist), 270,  273. 

Dewilde,  Mr.  (painter),  "Macready  as 
Romeo"  by,  31 ;  "Macready  as  Ham- 
let "by,  37". 

D'Eyncourt,  Right  Hon.  C.  J.,  505,  509, 
630. 

Dickens,  Charles  (author),  as  an  ama- 
teur actor,  81  ;  Macready's  visit  to 
Newgate  with,  163  ;  Macready's  first 
introduction  to,  400;  speech  of,  at 
Macready's  farewell  dinner,  638 ; 
otherwise  mentioned,  364,  418,  430, 
454,  462,  475,  487,  501,  509,  553,  630, 
631,  638,  645,  647,  657,  676,  700. 

Diddear,  Charles  Bannister  (actor), 
411. 

Dijon,  Macready's  visits  to,  173,  198. 

Dillon,  John  (author),  115. 

Dimond,  W.  (author  and1  manager),  36, 
46,  53,  72,  76. 

Distressed  Mother,  94. 

Don  Alonzo,  The  Revenge,  Macready  as, 
62. 

Don  Felix,  The  Wander  a  Woman  kerps 
a  Secret,  Macready  as,  46,  82,  83,  422. 

Don  Leo,  The  Pledye,  Macready  as, 
244. 

Doncaster,  Theater  Royal,  606. 

Dorax,  Don  Sebastian,  Macready  as,  48. 

Doricourt,  Belle's  Stratagem,  52,  82. 

D  Orsay,  Count,  244,  390,  472,  656. 

Douglas,  Mr.,  372,  374. 

Dow/las,  39. 

Dover,  Lord  (author  of  Frederick  II.), 
255. 

Dow,  Mr.,  351,  360,  363,  365,  366. 

Dowton,  William  (actor),  300,  327,  405 


INDEX. 


707 


Doyle,  Mick  (actor),  73. 

Dramatic  Literature,  Select  Commit- 
tee, 248  et  setj. 

Drury  Lane  Theater,  opened  in  1812, 
with  address  by  Lord  Byron,  47 ;  Ed- 
mund Kean  at,  56 ;  management  of, 
by  a  sub-committee,  77,  101,  102;  re- 
duced prices  at,  124 ;  revival  of  Tate's 
version  of  King  Lear  at,  148  ;  unpre- 
cedented array  of  talent  at,  201  ; 
Macready's  first  engagement  at,  204 ; 
Macready  as  Virginias  at,  209 ;  man- 
agement transferred  to  Elliston's  son, 
222;  let  to  Stephen  Price,  223; 
closed  through  illness  of  performers, 
268  ;  re-opened,  282,  343  ;  bad  condi- 
tion of,  357  et  seq. ;  "  Concerts  d'Hi- 
ver "  at,  471;  Macready's  manage- 
ment of,  478  et  seq.,  485,  486,  500, 
505  ;  Her  Majesty's  visit  to,  dur- 
ing Macready's  management,  495, 
504 ;  outrage  to  French  actors  at, 
,  574 ;  special  performance  at,  576  ; 
otherwise  mentioned,  27,  218  tt  seq., 
237,  240. 

j)ryburgh  Abbey,  556. 

Dryden,  John,  257,  259  et  seq.,  330,  579, 
677. 

Dublin,  Macready's  first  visit  to,  6 ; 
great  actors  and  actresses  from,  27  ; 
story  of  Larry  Clinch  at,  36 ;  Miss 
O'Neill  at,  63  ;  audiences  in,  73. 

Dublin  Theater,  Mr.  Henry  Harris  ob- 
tains the  patent  of  the,  1 56  ;  Virgin- 
ins  produced  at,  il>. ;  Miss  Atkins 
(Mrs.  Catherine  Macready)  acts  at 
the,  203 ;  Macready's  engagements 
at,  215,  242,  262,  301,  320,  392  et  seq., 
482,  498,  565,  609. 

Duchesnois,  Mademoiselle,  172. 

Ducrow,  Mr.  (equestrian),  493. 

Dudlev,  Sir  R.,  his  criticism  of  Ma- 
cready, 280. 

Dufferin,  Lady,  541. 

DuflFerin,  Lord,  631. 

"  Duke  Aranza,"  Macrendy  as,  36,  76. 

Duke  in  Measure  for  Measure,  Macready 
as,  414. 

Dumanoir,  M.,  431. 

Dumas,  Alexandre  (author),  537. 

Dumfries  Theater,  Macready  at,  51, 109, 
206. 

Dumont,  Tfte  Father  and  his  Children, 
112. 

Dumont,  Jane  Shore,  Macready  as,  126, 
242. 

Dundee,  Theater  Royal,  205,  617. 

Dunn,  Mr.  (Treasurer,  Drurv  Lane 
Theater),  344,  477. 

Durham,  Lord,  409. 


Durrani,  Mr.  John  Rowland  (founder 
of  the  "  Garrick  Club  "),  341,  364. 

Duruset,  Mrs.  (actress),  96. 

Durusef,  Mr.  John  (actor  and  vocalist), 
364. 

Earl  of  Essex,  Macready  in  the,  35,  67. 

Earl  of  Warwick,  Macready  in  the,  126. 

Earle,  Henry,  371. 

East,  Mrs.,  411. 

Eastbourne,  Macready's  visits  to,  437, 

483,  499,  548,  569. 
Eastlake,  P.  R.  A.,    Sir  Charles  Lock, 

424,  630,  640,  641,  647. 
Edgell,  Mr.,  Macready  at  school  under, 

2  et  seq. 
Edinburgh,    Theater  Royal,   221,   241, 

553,  554,  614. 

Edmund,  King  Lear,  Macready  as,  149. 
Edward  the  Black  Prince,  Macready  as, 

39. 
Edward  IV.,  Earl  of  Warwick,  Macready 

as,  53. 
Edward  Gregory,  Changes  and  Chances, 

Macready  as,  86. 

Egerton,  Mr.  D.  (actor),  103,  151. 
Egerton,   Mrs.    (actress),   famous   Meg 

Merrilies,  90. 

Egerton,  Lord  Francis,  391. 
Egg,  A.,  Mr.  (painter),  631,  645. 
Elliott  the  pantomimist,  350. 
Elliotson,  Dr.,  388,  429,  499,  561. 
Elliston,  Mr.  (Drury  Lane  Theater),  24, 

121,  138,  165,  200,  206,  215,  219,  222. 
Elstree,  Macready's  home  at,  243. 
Elton,  Mr.  (actor),  397,  399,  406,  408, 

409. 

Elwin,  Dr.,  336. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo  (essayist),'  513. 
Emery,  Mr.  John  (actor),  24,  62,  155, 

165,  200. 

Emmet,  Thomas  Addis,  228,  229. 
Emmett,  Mr.  R.,  595  et  seq. 
Epitaphs  —  that  on  Macready's  mother, 

10  ;  on  Macready's  tomb,  702. 
Errington,  Mr.  Rowland,  538. 
Eton,  Hamlet,  reading  at,  627. 
Etty,  William  (painter),  193,  469,  606. 
Eugene  Aram,  279. 
Evans,  Mr.,  631. 
Evelyn,  Money,  Macreadr  as,  471,  472, 

475,481. 
Exeter,  Theater   Royal,    great   actors 

from,   27;    Macready    at,    221,  240, 
ZWetsetj.,  481,  552,  607. 
Exile,  a  dramatic  romance,  169. 

Faed,  Mr.  (painter),  647. 
Falconbridge,  King  John,  Macready  as, 
54. 


708 


INDEX. 


Faraday,  Michael,   416. 

Farley,  Mr.  Charles  (pantomime  ar- 
ranger), 112. 

Farreu,  William  (actor),  125,  165,  263, 
346,  348,  361,  362. 

Faucit,  Miss  Helen  (Mrs.  Theodore 
Martin),  371,  390,  399, 404  et  set).,  467, 
473,  536,  538,  539. 

Fawcett,  John  (Co vent  Garden  Thea- 
ter), negotiates  with  Macready,  22, 
24,  37,  67,  68,  78,  86 ;  otherwise'  men- 
tioned, 90,  125,  142,  151,  170  et  set].  / 
a  dinner  at  the  house  of,  163  ;  as  Ftil- 
staff,  165  ;  anecdote  of,  282. 

Fechter,  M.  (actor),  689,  693,  694. 

Felton,  Mr.,  514. 

Ferny,  Voltaire's  house  at,  193. 

Ferns,  Dean  of,  73. 

Fielding,  Henry  (dramatist  and  nov- 
elist), 394. 

Fiesole,  188. 

Fisher,  David  (actor),  409. 

Fitzball,  Mr.,  369,  374. 

Fitzhar  cling,  The  Curfew,  Macreadv  as, 
39. 

Fitzhardinge,  Earl  of,  630. 

Fladgate,  Mr.,  283,  288,  304. 

Florence,  Macready's  visit  to,  186. 

Florian,  The  Foundling  of  the  Forest, 
Macready  as,  63. 

Fonblanque,  Mr.  Albanv  (journalist), 
334,335,  631. 

Fontaine,  M.  B.  (architect),  536. 

Foote,  Miss  (actress),  151,  219. 

Foote's  Liar,  269. 

Forrest,  Edwin  (tragedian),  calls  on 
Macready  at  Elstree,  387  ;  dinner  at 
Garrick  Club  to,  388  ;  hisses  Ma- 
cready at  Edinburgh,  553  ;  otherwise 
mentioned,  230  et  seq.,  386  et  seq.,  512, 
515,  530,  554,  559,  580,  581,  582,  584, 
585. 

Forster,  John  (author,  critic,  and  jour- 
nalist), 271,  290,  302,  303,  311,  334, 
335,  338,  343,  348,  361,  366,  630,  641, 
677. 

Fortescue,  Miss  (actress),  483,  487. 

Foscari,  Macready  as,  427. 

Foscolo,  Ugo,  213. 

Fox,  M.  P.,  Mr.  W.  J.,  336,  347,  366, 
503,  645. 

Franklin,  Dr.  (dramatic  author),  53. 

Frederick,  Lovers'  Vows,  Macready  as,  53. 

Frederick,  Natural  Son,  Macready  as,  36. 

Frederick  II.,  Lord  Dover's  life  "of,  255. 

French,  Mr.,  337. 

French  cordiality,  198. 

Fresne,  M.  de,  438,  536  et  seq.,  617. 

Frith,  Mr.  (painter),  631,  647. 

Frozen  Deep,  by  Wilkie  Collins,  657. 


Gambia,    The   Slave,   Macready  as,  95, 

109. 
Garrick,  David,  jubilee  at  Hereford,  83  ; 

as  Oswyn,  108;   as  Henry  IV.,  165; 

as  Lear,  698. 
Garrick   Club,    Shakespeare's   birthday 

at,  269 ;    otherwise   mentioned,   302, 

307,  341,  363,  375,  388. 
Gass,  Mr.,  305. 

Geneva,  Macready's  visit  to,  173. 
George  III.,  fiftieth  anniversary  of  acces- 
sion of,  24. 

George  IV.,  coronation  of,  165. 
"George   Baruwell,"  Macready  as,  31, 

68. 

"  George  Eliot  "  (authoress),  688. 
Ghost  in  Hamlet,  Macreadv  as  the,  247. 
Gibbs,  Dr.,  79. 
Gifford,  Mr.    (author   and   critic),  126, 

286  ;  life  of,  318. 

Gingham,  Rage,  Macready  as,  57. 
Gisippus,  472. 

Gisippus,  Macready  as,  494,  498. 
Giubilei,  Signor  (vocalist),  405,  409. 
Glasgow,  a  visit  to,  131. 
Glasgow,  Theater  Royal,  51,  53,  54,  65, 

72,  168,  215,  241,  545,  566,  618. 
Glenalvon,  Dowjlas,  Maercady  as,  121, 

129. 

Glencoe,  Talfourd's  plav  of,  464. 
Glengall,  Lord,  156,  477. 
Glover,  Mrs.  (actress),  90,  209,  407. 
Goethe,  271,  666. 
Goldoni,  Carlo,  author  of  L'Aventiini're 

Onorato,  188. 

Gordon,  Sir  A.  Duff,  630. 
Goulburn,  Dr.  (Rugby  School),  619. 
Gould,  Mr.  (author),  535. 
Grade',  Mr.,  531. 
Graham,  Sir  James,  507. 
Graham,  Lord  William,  631. 
Granby  Hotel,  215,  221,  222,  279,  302, 

305,  346. 

Grant,  Mr.  (actor),  52. 
Grant,  Sir  Colquhoun,  336. 
Grantham    Theater,  Macreadv  at   the, 

241. 

Grattan,  Colley,  514. 
Grav,  Edward  (poet),  258. 
Greenock  Theater  Royal,  241,  566,  618. 
Greeaville  (America)' 524. 
Greg,  Mr.  W.  R.,  558. 
Greta  Bridge,  58. 
Griffin,  Dr.  (author),  472. 
Griffin  (America),  523. 
Grimwood,  Plighted  Troth,  Macreadv  as, 

496. 

Grisi,  Signora  (vocalist),  305,  317. 
Gruneisen,  Mr.,  631. 
Guernsey,  Theater  Royal,  562. 


INDEX. 


709 


Guizot,  M.,  666. 
Gully  the  pugilist,  223. 
Gwilt,  Mr.,  410. 
Gwydir,  Lord,  83. 

Gve,  Mr.  (Covcnt  Garden  Theater), 
421. 

Hackett,  Mr.  (manager),  579. 

Haines,  Mr.  (actor  and  dramatist),  on 
Macready's  Richard  III.,  142. 

Halevy,  M.  (musical  composer),  540, 
541. 

Haliburton,  Judge  ("  Sam  Slick  "),  510. 

Halifax  (America),  Macready's  visit  to, 
510. 

Halifax,  Theater  Royal,  167,  215,  241, 
327. 

Hall,  Mr.  S.  C.  (author),  630. 

Hallam,  Mr.  (historian),  503. 

Halleck,  Mr.,  512. 

Hamilton,  Lady,  5. 

Hamilton,  Dr.,  131 . 

Hamilton,  Mr.  (British  Minister  at  Na- 
ples in  1822),  189. 

Hamlet,  Macready's  first  appearance  as, 
35 ;  in  Glasgow,  51  ;  at  Bath,  67  ; 
at  Drury  Lane,  208 ;  at  Birmingham, 
224  ;  other  performances  of,  241,  242, 
272,  280,  284,  301,  321,  332,  340,  344, 
350,  394,  512,  513,  515,  527,  528,  530, 
532,  534,  535,  536,  537,  539,  541,  545, 
546,  547,  548,  549,  550,  551,  552,  553, 
555,  562,  581,  584,  626,  690. 

Hamlet,  Macreadv's  observations  on,  36, 
164,  535,  661. 

Hammond,  Mr.  "VV.  T.  (actor  and  man- 
ager), 321. 

Hanmer,  The  Brothers,  49. 

Hardyknute,  The  Wood  Demon,  Ma- 
c  ready  as,  33. 

Harris,  "Mr.  (manager),  12,  67,  86,  90, 
92,  94,  115,  127,  128,  139,  140,  148, 
160,  163,  168,  170,  201,  202,  215,  408. 

Harris,  Mr.  (dramatic  author),  258  et  seq. 

"  Harrison,"  The  wrong,  27. 

Harrisburg  (America),  534. 

Harle.y,  Mr.  John  Pritt  (actor),  244,  270, 
361,  362. 

Harness,  Rev.  W.,  630. 

Harrogate  Theater,  Macreadv  at  the, 
238. 

Hart,  Mr.  S.  (painter),  631. 

Hastings,  Jane  /S'Aore,  Macready  as,  44, 
76,  390. 

Hatherton,  Lord,  16. 

Hawtrey,  Dr.  (Eton),  495. 

Haymarket  Theater,  closed  in  conse- 
quence of  illness  amongst  the  per- 
formers, 269 ;  Macready's  engage- 


ments at,  399,  410  et  seq.,  434,  462, 

466,481,483,606,  627. 
Hay  ward,   Mr.    (translator    of  Faust), 

303. 
Hazlitt,  Mr.  (essayist),  criticism  upon 

Young  and  Macready  in  Othello,  95  ; 

on  Edmund  Kean  in  Othello,  101  ; 

Macready  meets,  154. 
Hedley,  the  Sisters,  29,  55,  441. 
Hemans,  Felicia  (poetess),  675. 
Henderson,  Mr.  (actor),  20. 
Henry  IV.,  Macready  as,  165   et  seq., 

503,  539,  608. 
Henry  V.,  Macready  as,  74,  139,  220, 

242",  326,  456,  458,  632,  685. 
Henri  Quatre,  Macready  as,  148,  159. 
Heraud,  Mr.  (author),  371,  379,  381. 
Herbert,  Mr.  (painter),  647. 
Herculaneum,  Macready's  visit  to,  192. 
Hereford  Theater,  Macready  at  the,  83, 

242. 

Herries,  Mr.  C.  J.,  631. 
Herries,  Right  Hon.  J.  C.,  656. 
Herschel,  Sir  J.,  434. 
Heywood,  M.  P.,  Mr.  John,  630. 
Highlands,   Macready's  tours   in   the, 

131  et  seq.,  168. 
Hillard,  Mr.,  513.  - 
Hogarth,  Mr.,  629. 
Holland,  Lord,  473. 
Holman,  Mr.  (actor),  6,  20,  43,  146. 
Holman,  Mr.  (the  blind  traveler),  307. 
Holmes,  Dr.,  579. 
Holt,  Mr.  Francis  Lndlow,  298. 
Holy  Island,   Macready's  holidavs   at, 

59,  74. 

Holyrood  House,  555. 
Home,  Mr.  (author),  347. 
Homer,    Macready's    observations  on, 

384,  393. 

Hook,   Theodore    (journalist    and   au- 
thor), 24,  307 ;  his  hostility  towards 

Maereadv,  214. 
Horace,    Afacreadv's    observations    on, 

294,  332,  394. 
Horton,  Miss  P.  (Mrs.  German  Reed), 

411,  421,  438,  442,  469,  493,  494. 
"Hotspur,"  Macready  as,  68,  139,  222, 

283,  289. 

House   of   Commons,   Macready's    evi- 
dence before  the,  248  ;  petition  to  the, 

515  et  seq. 

Howard,  M.  P.,  Mr.  P.  H.,  630. 
Hubert,  King  John,  Macready  as,  171, 

202. 

Huddart,  Mr.  (actor),  as  Shylock,  56. 
Huddart,  Miss  (actress)  (Mrs.  Warner), 

401,  403. 

Hughes,  Mr.  (dramatic  author),  36. 
Hugo,  Victor,  540. 


710 


INDEX. 


Jlnijuenot,  Shell's  tragedy  of  the,  201. 
Hull   Theater,   Macready   at   the,    169, 

215. 
Hullah,   Mr.  (musical  composer),  411, 

430. 

Humby,  Mrs.  (actress),  406. 
J/umoroiis  Lieutenant,  97. 
Hunt,  Leigh   (poet  and  essayist),  276, 

440,  454^ 
Iluntley,  Mr.  (actor),  as  "  Alonzo,"  45  ; 

as  "  The  Sullaii,"  56. 

lachimo,  Cymlxline,  Macready  as,  159. 
lago,  Othello,  Macready  as,  94,  251,  253, 

262,  296,  513,  625  ;  remarks  upon,  94, 

264. 

Il/ustrious  Traveler,  116. 
Inchhald,  Mrs.  (translator  of  Kotzelme's 

Natural  Son),  36,  108. 
Inglis,  Dr.  (Rughy  School),  8,  15,  16, 

17. 

Inman,  Mr.  (painter),  512. 
Ion,  Talfourd's  tragedy  of,  remarks  upon, 

359 ;    produced    at    the   Haymarket, 

381  ;  Macready  as,  372,  633. 
Ipswich,  Theater  Royal,  240i 
Ireland,  Dr.,  Dean  of  Westminster,  304. 
Iron  Chest,  411. 
Irving,  Dr.,  518  et  seq. 
Italy,  Macready's  tour  in,  175  et  seq.; 

acting  in,  185. 

Jackson,  Mr.  (portrait  painter),  Ma- 
cready as  "  Virgin ius  "  by,  154  ;  Ma- 
cready as  "  Henry  IV."  liy,  166  ;  death 
of,  244  ;  subscription  for  the  widow 
of,  254. 

Janin,  Jules,  536. 

Jaqucs,  As  You  Like  It,  Macreadv  as, 
148,  218,  222,  242,  287. 

Jeffrey,  Lord,  553,  555. 

Jephson,  Mr.  (dramatic  author),  76. 

Jerdan,  Mr.,  398. 

Jerrold,  Douglas  (author),  444,  493, 630, 
632,  648. 

Jeston,  Mr.,  115,  120,  379. 

John  Bull,  Colman's  play  of,  6. 

"  John  of  Lome,"  Macready  as,  35. 

John  of  Procidu,  Knowles's  play  of,  470. 

Johnson's  "  Lives  of  the  Poets,"  366. 

Jones,  Richard  (actor),  6,  95,  171,  271, 
344,  624. 

Jonson,  Ben,  631. 

Jordan,  Mrs.  (actress),  Macready  acts 
with,  46 ;  her  acting,  46  et  seq. 

Joseph  Surface,  School  for  Scandal,  Ma- 
cready as,  138,  266,  273,  503. 

Julia,  The  Italian  Lover,  Macreadv  as, 
76,  94. 


Julian,  The  Peasant  Boy,  Macready  as 

35. 
Julian,  Macready  in,  202. 

Kean,  Charles,  271,  356,  409. 

Kean,  Edmund,  Macreadv's  earliest 
recollections  of,  18;  as  Richard  II., 
48 ;  as  Sir  Edward  Mortimer,  54 ; 
first  appearance  at  Drury  Lane,  56  ; 
as  Richard  III.,  68  et  seq. ;  in  private 
life,  70;  present  at  Macready  s  first 
appearance  in  London,  92  ;  as  Oroo- 
noko,  100 ;  an  imitator  of,  101  ;  as 
Othello,  101  ;  as  Lear,  149;  his  jeal- 
ousy of  Macready,  214;  funeral  of, 
271  ;  otherwise  mentioned,  78,  95,  99, 
101,  138,  140,  145,  169,  201,  219,  222, 
251,  252,  256,  280,  345,  669. 

Keeley,  Mr.  Robert  (actor),  122,  276. 

Kelly,  Miss  F.  H.  (actress),  201. 

Kemble,  Charles,  as  Mirabel  in  Incon- 
stant, 57  ;  as  a  tragedian,  ib. ;  per- 
forms with  Macready  at  Newcastle, 
61  el  seq. ;  as  Pyrrhus,  90 ;  as  Juba, 
98 ;  in  The  Apostate,  105  ;  benefit  of, 
106, 129 ;  further  criticism  upon,  163  ; 
hostile  action  of,  towards  Mr.  Harris, 
170  et  seq.;  in  King  John,  202;  his 
opinion  of  Mr.  Bonn's  treatment  of 
Macready,  365  ;  interview  at  Garrick 
Club  between  Macready  and,  368  ; 
dinner  at  the  Garrick  Club  to,  391 ; 
sale  of  theatrical  wardrobe  of,  400 ; 
at  the  Macready  farewell  dinner,  645  ; 
otherwise  mentioned,  24,  38,  92,  95, 
106,  108,  120,  125,  127  et  seq  ,  138, 
139,  151,  164,  170,371. 

Kemble,  Mrs.  Charles,  57,  61. 

Kemble,  Miss  C.  A.,  500. 

Kemble,  John  M.  (examiner  of  plavs), 
465. 

Kemble,  John  P.,  and  the  O.  P.  riots, 
23  ;  his  advice  to  Sinclair,  52 ;  fare- 
well performances  of,  at  Dublin,  84 ; 
on  Macready's  personal  appearance, 
93 ;  at  Covent  Garden,  95 ;  as  Cato, 
97  ;  last  nights  of,  106  ;  criticism  on, 
107 ;  as  Macbeth,  107 ;  his  haughti- 
ness, t'6. ;  Campbell's  valedictory 
stanzas  to,  109  ;  as  Bajazet  in  Tamer- 
lane, 146  ;  transfers  share  in  Covent 
Garden  Theater  to  Charles  Kemble, 
163  ;  Macready's  last  interview  with, 
ib. ;  as  "  Henry  IV.,"  165;  in  retire- 
ment at  Lausanne,  1 74 ;  memorial  to, 
in  Westminster  Abbey,  304  ;  as  Lear, 
698  ;  otherwise  mentioned,  108. 

Kemeys,  Sir  Robert,  154. 

Kendal  Theater,  Macreadr  appears  at 
the.  206. 


INDEX. 


711 


Kenney,  Mr.  James  (dramatic  author), 
300,  302,  407,  430. 

Kenny,  Mr.  (actor),  409. 

Kenny,  Miss  (actress),  348. 

Kenneth,  Mr.,  359,  367. 

Kenneth,  Miss  (actress),  313. 

Kensal  Green  Cemetery,  622,  656,  702. 

Kent,  Judge,  579. 

Kenyon,  Mr.  John,  367,  389,  553,  630, 
645. 

Kilmarnock,  Theater  Royal,  241. 

King,  Mr.  (actor),  4. 

King,  Judge,  518. 

King  James,  King  of  the  Commons,  Mac- 
ready  as,  560,  563  et  seq. 

King  John,  Macready  as,  218,  241,  242, 
299,  361,  386,  632. 

King  Lear,  Macready  as,  148,  161,  242, 
277  et  seq.,  305,  423,  530  et  seq.,  536, 
568,  572,  626,  632. 

Kinglake,  Mr.  A.  W.,  630. 

Kinnaird,  Lord,  171,  189,  193. 

Kinnaird,  Hon.  Douglas,  77,  171. 

Kite  carriage  on  Salisbury  Plain,  217. 

Kitely,  Every  Man  in  his  Humor,  77,  79, 
252. 

Knebworth,  a  visit  to  Bulwer  at,  617. 

Knight,  Gaily,  476  et  seq. 

Knight,  Mr.  Charles,  630. 

Knight's  "  Pictorial  Shakespeare,"  449. 

Knight  of  Snotcdon,  37. 

Knowles,  J.  Sheridan  (dramatist),  in- 
troduced to  Macready  by  John  Tait, 
150;  Virginias  by,  152;  particulars 
respecting,  153  etseq.;  Caius  (jfracchvs 
by,  206,  210;  William  Tell  by,  219  et 
seq.;  Alfred  the  Great  by,  244  ;  as  an 
actor,  253  ;  The  Wife,  a  Tale  of  Man- 
tua, by,  270 ;  otherwise  mentioned, 
168,  210,  245,  273,  290,  310,  313,  373, 
401,  402,  403,  428,  431,  470,  502,  672. 

Knox,  Mr.,  485. 

Lackland,  Fonlaincbleau,  Macreadv  as, 

58. 

Lafond,  M.,  172. 
La  Fontaine,  338,  617. 
Lake  district,  Macready's  tour   in   the, 

206  et  seq. 

Lamb,  Charles  (essayist),  119,  296. 
Lambe,  Hon.  George,  77. 
Lancaster  Theater,  158. 
Land,  Mr.  (actor),  408. 
Land,  Miss  (actress),  408. 
Landon,  Miss,  426. 
Landor,  Savage,  his  opinion  of  French 

character,  198,  372. 
Landseer,  R.  A.,  Sir  Edwin,  495,  630, 

641,  647. 
Lansdowne,  Lord,  548,  561,  630. 


Laporte,  M.  (Co vent  Garden  Theater), 
247. 

Lardner,  Dr.,  333,  335  et  seq.,  375. 

Law  of  Java,  171. 

Lawrence,  Mr.  Abbott,  513. 

Lawrence,  Sir  Thomas,  243. 

Leamington  Theater,  Macready's  en- 
gagements at  the,  602,  607. 

Lee,  Mr.  A.  (manager),  243. 

Leech,  Mr.  John  (artist),  631. 

Leeds,  Theater  Royal,  204,  602,  609. 

Leicester,  Theater  "Royal,  168,  218,  221, 
241,  243,  318,  608. 

Leigh,  Mr.  John  Shaw,  225. 

Leigh,  Mr.  Pemberton  (afterwards  Lord 
Kingsdown),  195. 

Leigh,  Mrs.  (sister  of  Lord  Byron),  302. 

Lemon,  Mr.  Mark  (author),  629  et  seq. 

Leon,  Rule  a  Wife  and  Have  a  Wife, 
Macready  as,  76. 

Leontes,  Winter's  Tale,  82/208,  218, 
222,  415. 

Leslie,  R.  A.,  Mr.  Charles  (painter), 
631,  641. 

Lessing,  642. 

Letters  to  Macready,  from  Sheridan 
Knowles,  150;  letter  of  dedication 
from  Knowles,  155;  from  Archdeacon 
Pott,  216  ;  from  the  company  of  the 
T.  R.,  Birmingham,  224;  from  Mr. 
Brunton,  ib. ;  from  Comte  Alfred  de 
Vigny,  450;  from  an  anonymous 
friend,  490 ;  from  the  Societe  des 
Auteurs  Dramatiques  Fran9ais,  539  ; 
from  Mr.  Wightwick,  651. 

Letters  from  Macready  to  the  actors  and 
actresses  of  Mr.  Brunton's  company, 
225 ;  to  the  proprietors  of  "  John 
Bull,"  491  ;  to  Sir  Frederick  and- 
Lady  Pollock,  658  et  seq. 

Lever,  Mr.  Charles  (author),  629. 

Lewis,  Mr.  (actor),  4. 

Lewis  Matthew  ("Monk  Lewis"),  33, 
37,  125. 

Lichfield  Theater,  Macready  at  the, 
343. 

Liddell,  Dr.  (Dean  of  Christ  Church), 
650. 

Lidesq,  Miss  (danseuse),  321. 

Lincoln,  Theater  Royal,  221,  240,  321, 
376. 

Lind,  Jenny  (Mme.  Goldschmid)  567  et 
seq. 

Lindley,  Mr.,  etc.,  283. 

Linwood,  Miss,  543. 

Liston,   John   (comedian),  24,   95,   97, 

117,  138,  171,  200,  280,  407,  416. 
Literary  Fund  Society,  305  et  seq.,  337, 

359,  482. 
Liverpool,   theatrical   engagements   of 


712 


INDEX. 


Macready  at,  158   ft  seq.,   167,  208, 

218,  225,  240,  241,  243,  262,  318,  321, 
482,  566,  610  et  seq. 

Liverpool  Mercury,  320,  328. 

Liverpool  theatrical  fund,  158. 

Llanrwst,  Macready  at,  201 . 

Lloyd,  Charles  (translator  of  Alfieri), 
sonnet  to  Macready  by,  119;  poems 
addressed  to  Macready  by,  119;  death 
of,  120. 

Loder,  Mr.  John  (violinist),  123,  438. 

London  Tavern,  Macready's  farewell 
dinner  at,  630  elspq. 

Londonderry,  Lord,  190. 

Loraine,  Mr.  W.,  122. 

Lord  Bellenden,  Men  of  Pleasure,  Ma- 
cready as,  252. 

Lord  Townley,  The  Provoked  Husband, 
Macready  as,  85,  327,  344,  608,  610, 
612. 

Lothair,  Adelgitha,  Macready  as,  30. 

Lough,  Mr.  (sculptor),  308.  " 

Louis  Philippe,  King,  539  et  seq. 

Louisville  (America),  533,  589. 

Louth  Theater,  Macready  at  the,  323. 

Love  Extempore,  430. 

Lovell,  Mr.,  340,  353,  355. 

Lovemore,  The  Way  to  Keep  Him,  Ma- 
cready  as,  52. 

Lover,  Samuel  (author),  379. 

Ludlow  Theater,  Macready  at  the,  243. 

Ludovico,  Evadne,  or  the  Statue,  Ma- 
cready as,  127. 

Luke,  Riches,  Macready  as,  33,  35,  68, 
72. 

Lushington,  Professor,  569. 

Lyceum  Theater,  24. 

Lynedoch,  Lord,  55. 

Lynn,  Theater  Royal,  238. 

Lyttelton,  Hon.  Spencer,  630. 

Lytton,  Lord  (see  Bulwer). 

Lytton,  Robert  (now  Lord  Lvttou),  674, 
679,  685. 

Macaulay,    T.    B.     (afterwards    Lord 

Macauky),  243,   588. 
Macaulay/Rev.  J.  H.,  559;  Macaulav, 

Q.  C.,  Mr.  Kenneth,  631. 
Macbeth,  Macrcady  as,   155,  208,  218, 

219,  222,  237,  241,244,  251,  253,  262, 
268,  280,  296,  304,  320,  342,  344,  359, 
364,  369,  385,  479,  481,  496,  504,  512, 
513,  515,  518,  528,  531,  533,  534,  535, 
536,  538,  545,  555,  580,  581,  584,  607, 
618,  632. 

McCulloch,  Mr.   (prompter  at   Covent 

Garden  Theater),  128. 
McFarlane,  Mr.,  649. 
Mdan,  Mrs.  (artist),  502. 
Macirone,  Miss,  concert  given  by,  561. 


Macklin,  Charles  (actor),  anecdote  of, 
20;  as  Shylock,  21;  early  struggles 
of,  ib. ;  personal  appearance,  ib. ;  the 
last  of,  il>. ;  47. 

Maclise,  R.  A.,  Daniel  M.  (painter), 
334,  340,  467,  495,  605,  630,  641,  647. 

Ma9on  (America),  522. 

Macready,  William  (father  of  W.  C.  M.), 
as  lessee  of  the  Birmingham  Theater, 
4,  29;  at  Bolton-le-Moors,  5;  visit  < 
Macready  at  Rugby,  15  ;  takes  Man- 
chester Theater,  19 ;  professional 
opinions  of,  20  ;  pecuniary  difficulties 
of,  22  ;  a  prisoner  for  debt,  24  ;  con- 
siderate conduct  of  his  creditors,  26  ; 
actor  and  author,  30 ;  at  Leicester 
and  Birmingham,  32,  33 ;  engages 
the  Astley's  equestrian  troupe,  37  ; 
quarrels  with  Macready,  53 ;  his  char- 
acter, 55,  56  ;  builds  a  theater  at  Car- 
lisle, 58 ;  engages  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Charles  Kemble,  61  ;  entertains  Ed- 
mund Kean,  69  ;  and  Miss  O'Neill, 
122;  takes  Bristol  Theater,  127; 
death  of,  241. 

Macready,  Mrs.  (mother  of  W.  C.  M.), 
2,  5,  7,  10  et  seq.,  542. 

Macready,  Mrs.  (step-mother  of  W.  C. 
M.),  307,  341. 

Macready,  Major  Edward  Nevil,  enters 
the  army,  54  ;  biographical  notice  of, 
65;  returns  to  England,  78;  charac- 
ter of,  116  et  seq.;  letter  from,  137  ; 
promotion  of,  308  ;  death  of,  581  ; 
otherwise  mentioned,  20,  37,  74,  87, 
88,  97,  584,  586. 

Macready,  William  Charles,  earliest  rec- 
ollections, 1  ;  at  Mr.  Edgell's  school, 
3  ;  goes  to  Rugby,  8  ;  death  of  mother, 
13  ;  theatricals  at  Rugby,  10  ;  sees 
the  "  Young  Roscius  "  in  Richard  III. 
12 ;  rapid  rise  in  the  school,  13  ;  speech 
day,  17;  early  indication  of  dramatic 
talent,  17,  29  ;  leaves  Rugby,  19  ;  be- 
comes an  actor,  20 ;  as  a  country 
manager,  23  ;  visits  London,  16. ;  man- 
ages theater  at  Chester,  25;  Newcastle, 
26  ;  Birmingham,  29  ;  first  appearance 
as  "  Romeo,"  etc.,  30  ;  practices  in  the 
empty  theater,  31  ;  engaged  at  New- 
castle, 32  ;  makes  good  use  of  leisure 
time  at  Tynemouth,  ib. ;  Leicester  and 
Birmingham,  ib. ;  a  narrow  escape, 
34  ;  grandfather  dies,  35  ;  first  appear- 
ance as  Hamlet,  35 ;  another  visit  to 
London,  37 ;  makes  a  dangerous  ac- 
quaintance, t'6. ;  Leicester  and  New- 
castle, 38,  39  ;  acts  with  Mrs.  Siddons, 
39 ;  Birmingham,  43 ;  a  lesson  in 
dramatic  criticism,  ib. ;  acts  with  Mrs. 


INDEX. 


713 


Jordan,  46  ct  seq.,  Richard  II.  revived 
at  Newcastle,  48 ;  public  answer  to  a 
libel,  50 ;  Hamlet  in  Glasgow,  51  ; 
other  new  parts,  52 ;  power  of  rapid 
study,  ib. ;  at  Dumfries,  53;  acts  with 
Betty,  the  ci-devant  Young  Roscius, 
ib. ;  separates  from  father,  ib. ;  recon- 
ciliation with  father,  54;  comes  of 
age,  57  ;  adapts  Marmion,  57  ;  adapts 
Rokeby,  58  ;  narrow  escape  from  a 
quicksand,  60 ;  acts  with  Charles  Kem- 
ble,  61  et  seq. ;  a  performance  at  Ber- 
wick to  three  persons,  ib. ;  a  wonder- 
ful effort  of  memory,  63 ;  the  origin 
of  "  the  child  story,"  64 ;  appearance 
•  at  Bath,  66 ;  sees  Edmund  Kean  in 
Kichard  III.,  69  ;  sees  Miss  O'Neill  as 
Juliet,  70;  engagement  at  Glasgow, 
72  ;  first  meeting  with  future  wife,  ib.  ; 
engagement  at  Dublin,  72  ;  acting  for 
practice,  75  ;  Mentevole,  76 ;  offer 
from  Covent  Garden,  78  ;  poetical 
tribute,  82  ;  Garrick  Jubilee  at  Here- 
ford, 83  ;  engagement  at  Dublin,  84  ; 
tour  in  North  Wales,  88 ;  meeting 
with  brother,  89  ;  first  appearance  at 
Covent  Garden,  92 ;  remarks  on  per- 
sonal appearance,  93  ;  Hazlitt's  criti- 
cism, 95 ;  first  acquaintance  with 
Sheil,  104 ;  Pescara  in  the  Apostate, 
105  ;  compliment  from  John  Kcmblc, 
109;  a  diplomatic  adventure,  110; 
second  London  season,  111  ;  life  at  a 
boarding-house,  113;  a  strange  his- 
tory, 114  ;  brother  sails  for  India,  116  ; 
sonnet  by  Barry  Cornwall,  118;  pro- 
vincial engagements,  121  et  seq. ;  de- 
scent into  a  coal  mine,  123 ;  London 
season,  124  ;  Maturin's  Fredolfo,  128  ; 
engagement  at  Edinburgh,  130  ;  High- 
land pedestrian  tour,  132 ;  visit  to 
Glasgow,  135;  bad  condition  of  Co- 
vent  Garden,  139 ;  appearance  as 
Richard  III.,  140;  con  temporary  crit- 
icisms, 142 ;  sonnet  by  Barry  Corn- 
wall, 147 ;  production  of  Virginius, 
151;  refusal  of  pecuniary  gifts,  155; 
future  wife,  157  ;  fifth  Covent  Garden 
season,  158;  Walker's  play  of  Wal- 
lace, 160;  MirandoJa,  161;  Hamlet, 
164;  portrait  by  Jackson,  166  ;  coun- 
try engagements,  167;  re-engagement 
at  Covent  Garden,  169  ;  continental 
tour,  172;  Shell's  Huguenot,  201; 
leaves  Covent  Garden,  203  ;  engaged 
for  Drury  Lane,  204;  "the  child 
story "  again,  205 ;  visit  to  Words- 
worth, 207  ;  engagement  to  Miss  At- 
kins, 208  ;  Caius  Gracchu*,  210  ;  The- 
odore Hook,  214;  purchase  of  the 


Granby  Hotel,  215;  marriage,  216; 
Massinger's  Fatal  Dowry,  218;  Wil- 
liam Tell,  219  ;  residence  in  Wales, 
221 ;  reappearance  at  Drury  Lane, 
222 ;  Stephen  Price  of  New  York, 
223 ;  a  testimonial,  224 ;  professional 
tour  in  America,  224 ;  first  appear- 
ance in  the  United  States,  227  ;  Bos- 
ton, 231 ;  Baltimore,  232 ;  engage- 
ments during  1827,  237  ;  performan- 
ces in  Paris,  238;  French  criticisms, 
240;  diary  during  1829,241;  diary 
during  1830,  241  ;  diary  during  1831, 
243 ;  diary  during  1832  commence?, 
246;  Young's  farewell,  Rugby,  247; 
evidence  on  dramatic  literature,  249  ; 
diary  during  1833  commences,  253 ; 
Lord  Dover's  Frederick  II.,  255 ; 
country  engagements,  259 ;  Exeter, 
260  ;  Dublin,  264  ;  Manchester,  264  ; 
theaters  closed,  269  ;  Edmund  Kean's 
funeral,  271  ;  benefit,  Taglioni,  Mali- 
bran,  etc.,  273  ;  Lear,  277  ;  Brighton, 
Worthing,  280 ;  Prospero,  281  ;  Hot- 
spur, Werner,  Leontes,  283  ;  Antony, 
284 ;  King  John,  287  ;  Coriolanns, 
289  ;  studying  Sardanapalus,  290 ; 
literary  criticisms,  292  ;  diary  during 
1834  commences,  295 ;  Canterbury, 
296  ;  Athenaeum  Club,  301 ;  Sarda'n- 
apalus,  303  ;  Siddons  monument,  304  ; 
dress  for  Lear,  305  ;  work  on  Sardan- 
apalus, 311  ;  study  of  Hamlet,  316  ; 
Liverpool,  319  ;  Dublin,  320  ;  Lincoln, 
321  ;  Louth,  323  ;  Sheffield,  324  ;  diary 
during  1835  commences,  325  ;  Bath  ; 
327 ;  Manchester,  328 ;  Salisbury,  330, 
offers  from  Drury  Lane,  331  ;  Hamlet 
at  Norwich,  322  ;  Ion,  342 ;  engage- 
ment with  Bunn,  343  ;  Othello,  345  ; 
disappointments,  346 ;  diary  during 
1836  commences,  349  ;  difficulties  with 
Burfn,  352 ;  Byron's  Childe  Harold, 
353  ;  Provost  of  Bruges,  355  ;  a  stage- 
coach acquaintance, 356  ;  Exeter,  357  ; 
arranging  Ion  for  the  stage,  359 ;  con- 
dition of  the  stage,  362  ;  three  acts  of 
Richard  III.,  364 ;  assault  on  Bunn, 
365  ;  newspaper  comments,  367  ;  in- 
terview with  Charles  Kemble,  368 ; 
appearance  at  Covent  Garden,  370 ; 
first  night  of  Ion,  371 ;  Ion  supper  at 
Talfourd's,  372 ;  Bunn's  action  against 
Macready,  374 ;  provincial  engage- 
ments, 375 ;  private  theatricals  at 
Cambridge,  380 ;  provincial  engage- 
ments, 383 ;  robbery  at  the  Chelten- 
ham Theater,  383  ;  return  to  Covent 
Garden,  386  ;  Forrest  at  Elstree,  387  ; 
rehearsal  of  La  Valliere,  389 ;  diary 


714 


INDEX. 


for  1837  commences,  390 ;  first  night 
of  La  Valliere,  ib. ;  illness,  392 ;  Dub- 
lin, 393 ;  plans  for  the  future,  396  ; 
at  Lady  Blcssington's,  399  ;  The 
Bridal,  401  ;  negotiations  for  Coven t 
Garden,  402  ;  engagements  for  Co  vent 
Garden,  405  ;  a  visit  to  Listen,  407  ; 
Lord  Durham,  408 ;  business  at  Co- 
vent  Garden,  410 ;  arranging  plays, 
412;  a  French  admirer,  413  ;  opening 
of  Covent  Garden,  415  ;  managers  at 
work,  416  ;  gloomy  prospects,  419  ; 
diary  during  1838  commences,  420 ; 
rehearsing  King  Lear,  422  ;  Lady  of 
Lyons,  424  ;  Coriolanus,  425  ;  rehears- 
ing Foscari,  427  ;  Sindbad  the  Sailor, 
428 ;  rehearsing  Athenian  Captive, 
429 ;  rehearsing  Woman's  Wit,  431 ; 
testimonial  from  the  actors,  432  ;  Hay- 
market  engagement,  436 ;  at  East- 
bourne, 437 ;  rehearsing  The  Tempest, 
438  ;  second  season  as  manager,  441  ; 
The  Tempest,  441  ;  Richelieu,  445  ;  Co- 
vent  Garden  pantomime,  448  ;  diary 
for  1839  commences,  448  ;  production 
of  Richelieu^  452  ;  dinner  party  at  Els- 
tree,  455  ;  Henry  V.,  457  ;  end  of  Co- 
vent  Garden  management,  458  ;  pub- 
lic dinner  to,  459  ;  speech  at  dinner, 
460;  Shylock,  462;  house  at  York 
Gate,  ib. ;  Talfourd's  Glencoe,  464  ; 
diary  for  1840  commences,  466  ;  en- 
gagement at  Drury  Lane,  ib. ;  soiree 
at  Babbage's,  467  ;  first  night  of  Glen- 
coe,  468  ;  Richard  Cromwell,  470 ;  re- 
hearsal of  Monty,  471  ;  diary  for  1841 
commences,  473  ;  Siddons  monument 
committee,  476 ;  Newcastle,  478 ; 
thoughts  on  death,  479 ;  visit  to 
Rugby,  480 ;  plays  for  Drury  Lane, 
483 ;  preparations  at  Drury  Lane, 
486  ;  diary  for  1842  commences,  488  ; 
exclusion  of  women  of  the  town  from 
Drury  Lane,  ib. ;  Ads  and  Galatea, 
493 ;  Gisippus,  494 ;  Plighted  Troth, 
496  ;  Queen's  fancy  ball,  496  ;  Drury 
Lane,  As  You  Like  It,  500  ;  diary  for 
1843  commences,  502 ;  Much  Ado 
About  Nothing,  502 ;  end  of  Drury 
Lane  management,  504  ;  testimonial 
to,  505  ;  breakfast  with  Milncs,  507  ; 
Siddons  memorial,  508  ;  departure  for 
America,  510  ;  Halifax,  Boston,  New 
York,  511 ;  distinguished  Americans, 
513  ;  diary  for  1844  commences,  517  ; 
"  the  child  story"  again,  517  ;  Savan- 
nah, 520 ;  Western  travel,  522 ;  on 
the  Alabama,  526 ;  New  Orleans,  528  ; 
Mobile,  531  ;  St.  Louis,  532  ;  Cincin- 
nati, New  York,  534  ;  Montreal,  Phil- 


adelphia, Boston,  535  ;  diary  for  1845 
begins,  537  ;  engagement  in  Paris,  ib. ; 
performance  at  the  Tuileries,  539 ; 
Victor  Hugo,  George  Sand,  538 ; 
Sheffield,  mother's  grave,  542 ;  pro- 
ject of  a  new  theater,  543  ;  Glasgow, 
Carlisle,  545;  Bowles's  edition  of  Pope, 
548 ;  Dublin,  Belfast,  Exeter,  552  ; 
diary  during  1846  commences,  ib.  ; 
Forrest's  hiss  at  Edinburgh,  553 ; 
Lauriston,  Holyrood  House,  555 ; 
Repton-engagcment  at  the  Surrey, 
559  ;  diary  for  1847  commences,  564  ; 
Philip  van  Artevelde  produced,  570  ; 
diary  during  1848  commences,  571  ; 
plays  to  act  at  the  Princess's,  572 ; 
sympathy  with  the  French  actors  in 
London,  575;  special  night  at  Drury 
Lane,  576 ;  arrival  in  America,  578 ; 
Boston,  579 ;  Philadelphia,  death  of 
brother,  581  ;  outrage  at  Arch  Street 
Theater,  582;  diary  for  1849  com- 
mences, 586 ;  disturbance  in  theater 
at  New  York,  591  ;  requisition  to  act 
again,  593  ;  great  riot  at  New  York, 
594 ;  departure  from  America,  601  ; 
looking  at  Sherborne,  603  ;  statue  of 
Mrs.  Siddons,  605  ;  country  farewells, 
607  ;  diary  for  1850  commences,  608  ; 
farewell  at  Bristol,  608;  illness  of 
Nina,  610 ;  farewell  at  Liverpool,  611  ; 
farewell  at  Newcastle,  612 ;  farewell 
at  Birmingham,  614  ;  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Carlyle,  616;  at  Knebworth,  617; 
at  Sherborne,  ib. ;  reading  at  Rugby, 
619.;  diary  for  1851  commences,  624  ; 
last  performance  of  lago,  625 ;  fare- 
well at  the  Haymarket,  627  ;  farewell 
address,  628 ;  "farewell  dinner,  630 ; 
speech  at  farewell  dinner,  636  ;  Royal 
Academy  dinner,  647  ;  at  Sherborne, 
648  ;  letters  to,  650 ;  in  retirement,  (>54 
et  seq. ;  domestic  losses,  656 ;  family  sor- 
rows, 658  ;  second  marriage,  659  ;  let- 
ters to  the  Pollocks,  659  et  seq. ;  last 
years,  700 ;  death  and  funeral,  700, 
701  ;  epitaph,  702. 

Macready,  Mrs.  (ne'e  Catherine  Atkins), 
first  meeting  with.  72  ;  second  meet- 
ing with,  157  tt  se<]. :  engaged  at  Bris- 
tol Theater,  161  ;  growth  of  attach- 
ment to,  169,  203  ;  engaged  at  Dublin, 
203 ;  meets  Letitia  Macready,  209  ; 
marriage  of,  postponed,  ib. ;  marries 
Macreadv,  216  ;  otherwise  mentioned, 
214,  215,*219,  242,  244,  260,  267,  304, 
656  et  seq.,  659  et  seq.,  665,  etc. 

Macready,  Mrs.  (ne'e  Spencer),  659,  700. 

Macready,  Letitia  (sister  of  W.  C.  M.), 
130,  209,  210,  215,  216,  242,  658. 


INDEX. 


715 


Macready,  Ellen  (sister  of  W.  C.  M.), 
245. 

Macready's  children  —  Christina  Letitia, 
(Nina),  243,  609,  612,  614;  William 
Charles,  250,  556,  578,  656,  672,  685, 
700;  Catherine  Frances  Birch,  310, 
685,  700 ;  Harriet  Joanna,  405,  472, 
487,  499,  507,  559,  562  ;  Henry  Fred- 
erick Bulwer,  447  ;  Walter  Francis 
Sheil,  469  ;  Lydia  Jane,  501  ;  Cecilia 
Benvenuta,  568 ;  Jonathan  Forstcr, 
613,  701 ;  Cecil  Frederick  Ncvil,  659, 
701. 

Miickay,  Dr.,  631. 

MacTavish,  Miss,  as  Mary  Copp  in  The 
Merry  Monarch,  81,  541. 

Maddox  Mr.,  570. 

Plaid's  Tragedy,  310. 

Malaprop,  Mrs.,  686. 

Malibran  (vocalist),  270,  336,  367. 

Malins,  Vice-Chancel  lor,  298. 

Manhy,  Mr.,  604,  619,  629. 

Manchester,  Theater  Koyal,  168,  208, 
218,  237,  242,  264,  301,  327,  543,  563, 
566,  606. 

Manchester  Mechanics'  Institute,  5G3. 

Mansel,  Archdeacon,  341. 

Mansel,  Mr.,  169,  208. 

Mapleson,  Mr.  (manager),  500. 

Marden,  Mr.  (actor),  24. 

Margate  Theater,  Macreadv  at  the, 
243. 

Marino  Falicro,  Macreadv  as,  351,  497, 
515. 

Mark  Antony,  Antony  and  Cleopatra, 
Macready  as,  48. 

Mark  Antony,  Julius  Ccesar,  Macready 
as,  52,  285." 

Marmion,  Macready  as,  57. 

Marryat,  Captain  (author),  252. 

Mars  (actress),  172. 

Marshall,  Mr.  (scenic  artist),  408,  444. 

Marshall,  Mr.  (manager),  515. 

Martin,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Theodore,  689. 

Martins,  Sir  W.,  418,  419,  495. 

Martineau,  Miss  H.,  387,  400,  407,  426, 
428,  477,  528,  558. 

Marylebone  Literary  and  Scientific  In- 
stitution, 563. 

Massinger's  Fatal  Dowry,  218,  219. 

Mathews,  Charles  (the  elder),  166,  366, 
684. 

Mathews,  Mr.  T.  (actor),  407. 

Mathias,  Mr.  (author),  189,  194,  341. 

Maton,  Dr.,  218,  331. 

Maturin,  Rev.  Charles  (dramatic  author) 
127. 

Maurice,  Rev.  F.  D.,  683. 

Meadows,  Mr.  (scenic  artist),  421. 

Medlycott,  Sir  W.,  648. 


Melantius,  The  Bridal,  Macready  as, 
313,  314,  316,  342,  351,  370,  401,  403, 
410,  515,  535,  536. 

Melrose,  557. 

Mentevole,  The  Italian  Lover,  76,  85,  94, 
109. 

Meredith,  George,  159. 

Michael  Ducas,  Adelyitha,  125. 

Milan,  Macready  at,  176,  196. 

Milford  Theater,  218. 

Milman,  Rev.  H.,  153,  347. 

Milnes,  R.  Monckton  (now  Lord  Hough- 
ton),  630. 

Milton,  339. 

Mirandola,  Barry  Cornwall's  plav  of, 
161. 

Mississippi,  River,  532,  587  el  seq. 

Mitchell,  Mr.  John,  536,  538,  625,  631. 

Mitford,  Miss  (authoress),  202,  375,  675. 

Mithridate,  Macready's  remarks  on,  293. 

Mobile  (America),  527,  530. 

Moliere,  Macready's  remarks  upon,  317, 
348,  350. 

Money,  Buhver's  play  of,  471  ct  seq. 

Monmouth,  a  trip  to,  547. 

Monteith,  Mr.,  545. 

Montreal  (America),  Macready  at,  535. 

Montrose  Theater,  205. 

Moore,  Thomas  (poet),  467,  477. 

Mordent,  The  Steward,  Macready  as, 
138. 

More,  Mrs.  Hannah  (authoress),  39. 

Morpeth,  Lord,  507. 

Mortland,  To  Marry  or  Not  to  Marry, 
Macready  as,  469,  487. 

Morton,  Mr.  (author),  24,  95,  148. 

Moxon  Mr.  (publisher),  296,  391. 

Mude,  Mr.,  357. 

Mulgrave,  Lord,  393  et  seq. 

Munro,  Mr.,  348. 

Murchison,  Sir  Roderick,  337,  630. 

Murphy's  Way  to  Keep  Him,  in  Italian, 
191. 

Murray,  Mr.  J.  (publisher),  153. 

Murray,  Mr.  (manager),  550,  556. 

Naldi,  Signer,  32. 

Napier,  Professor,  553. 

Naples,  Macready  at,  189. 

Napoleon  I.,  513. 

National  Anthem,  as  sung  by  Tramez- 
zani,  37. 

Nelson,  Admiral  Lord,  at  the  Birming- 
ham Theater,  4. 

Newark  Theater,  Macready  at  the,  221. 

Newcastle,  Duke  of,  647,  656. 

Newcastle,  Theater  Royal,  39,  47,  64, 
74,  109,  204,  215,  241,  612. 

New  Orleans,  Macready  at,  527  et  seq.  ; 
cemetery  at,  529  ;  Washington  anni- 


716 


INDEX. 


vcrsarv  at,  ib. ;  otherwise  mentioned, 

531,  587. 

Newry  Theater,  Macready  at  the,  218. 
New  York,   manners   and  customs   of, 

228  ;  New  Year's  Day  in,  232  et  seq.; 

Macready's  second  visit  to,  511,  534  ;. 

disturbance  at  the  theater,  591  ;  great 

riot  at  the  Astor  Place  Theater,  594 

et  seq. 

Niebuhr's  History  of  Rome,  268. 
JVina  Sfqna,  381,  491. 
Nisbett,  Mrs.  (actress),  500. 
Noel,  Kev.  J.,  77. 
Norman,  The  Sea  Captain,  464. 
Northampton,  Theater  Royal,  241. 
Norton,  Charles  E.,  579. 
Norton,  Hon.  Mrs.,  335,  468,  508. 
Norval,  Douglas,  Macready  as,  30,  39. 
Norwich,  Theater  Royal,  238,  548. 
Nottingham,  Theater  Royal,  167,  168, 

221,  240,  318,  606. 
Nourjahad,  Macready  as,  56. 
Novello,  Miss  (vocalist),  502. 

"  Oakley,"  Macreadv  as,  282,  624. 

O'Connell,  M.  P.,  Mr.  Daniel,  299  et 
seq. 

Octavian,  The  Mountaineers,  Macready 
as,  88. 

Ogilby,  Mr.,  518. 

O'Haiilon,  Mr.  H.  M.,  244,  370,  etc. 

Ohio  River,  on  the,  389,  et  seq. 

O'Neill,  Miss  (Lady  Becher,  tragic, 
actress) ;  first  appearance  in  London 
of,  63 ;  as  Juliet,  68,  70  ;  as  Lady 
Randolph,  121  ;  and  Miss  Somerville, 
126  ;  last  appearance  of,  130;  retire- 
ment of,  148 ;  otherwise  mentioned, 
68,  74,  95,  105  et  seq.,  120,  127  et  seq., 
201,  280. 

Ope'ra  Comique,  Paris,  539. 

Oreste,  Macready's  remarks  upon,  294. 

Orestes,  Andromache,  Macreadv  as,  36, 
67,  90. 

Orestes,  The  Distressed  Mother,  44,  94. 

Orger,  Mrs.  (actress),  273. 

Oroonoko,  Macready  as,  48. 

Oroonoko,  Edmund  Kean  as,  100. 

Osbaldiston,  Mr.  David  Webster  (actor 
and  manager),  359,  361,  368, 371, 374, 
381,  388,  397,  400. 

Osmond,  The  Castle  Specter,  Macready 
ns,  32. 

Othello,  Macready  as,  94,  139, 171,  201, 

222,  223,  241,  242,  264,  342,  344,  397, 
512,  513,  515,  529,  531,  537,  544,  545, 
560. 

Othello,  reading  of,  at  Sherborne  Liter- 
ary and  Scientific  Institution,  658. 
Otis,  Mrs.,  514. 


Ovid,  Macready's  remarks  upon,  316, 

334. 

Owen,  Prince  of  Powys,  169. 
Oxenford,  Mr.  (journalist),  629,  631. 
Oxford,  Hamlet,  reading  at,  627. 

Pajranini,  Signer  (violinist),  275,  305. 

Paisley,  Theater  Royal,  618  ft  seq. 

Palmer,  Mr.  (T.  R.,  Bath),  82. 

Paris,  Macready's  first  visit  to,  172; 
return  to,  199 ;  performances  in  238 
et  seq. ;  second  visit  to,  536  et  seq. ; 
final  visit  to,  657. 

Parkes,  Mr.  Joseph,  344. 

Parkgate,  holiday  trips  to,  37,  46. 

Park  Theater,  New  York,  Macreadv  at 
the,  223,  227,  232. 

Parry,  Mr.  Sergeant,  631. 

Passaic,  the  Falls  of,  230. 

Paxton,  Sir  Joseph,  630. 

Pecuniary  gifts  to  actors,  155. 

Peel,  Sir  Robert,  552,  561,  606. 

Pcllerina  (pantomimist),  197. 

Pemberto.ii,  Mr.,  299. 

Pepin,  M.,  529. 

Peregrine  Pickle,  681. 

Percy,  Macready  in  Hannah  More 'a 
play  of,  39,  44* 

Perrez,  M.,  538. 

Perry,  Mr.,  298. 

Perth  Theater,  Macready's  perform- 
ances in,  206,  618. 

Pescara,  The  Apostate,  Macready  as, 
105,  109. 

Peterborough  Theater,  Macready  at 
the,  548. 

Petrarch's  tomb,  182. 

Pettigrew,  Mr.,  518. 

Phelps,  Mr.  Samuel  (actor),  409,411, 
414,417,627,630,645,681. 

Philadelphia,  Macready  at,  536  ;  out- 
rage at  Arch  Street  Theater,  581. 

Philip  Van  Artevelde,  Macready  as, 
312,  333,  335,  569,  650. 

Phillips,  Miss  (actress),  263,  282,  407. 

Phocyas,  Siege  of  Damacus,  Macready 
as,  36. 

Picture  exhibitions,  274,  334,  337,  378, 
468,  538,  646. 

Pierre,  Venice  Preserved,  Macreadv  as, 
73,  77,  128,  241,  242,  265. 

Pifjmalione,  Tramezzani  in,  37. 

Pinner  Wood,  Macready's  residence  at, 
240,  etc. 

Piozzi,  Mrs.  (Mrs.  Thrale),  79  et  seq. 

Pischek,  Herr,  561. 

Pistrucci,  Waterloo  medal  by,  623. 

Pittsburg  (America),  534. 

"Pizarro,"  Maoready  as,  121. 

Planchc,  Mr.  (dramatic  author),  337. 


INDEX. 


717 


Plessis  (actress),  537. 

Plunkett,  Mr.,  acts  Richard  III.,  86. 

Plymouth,  Theater  Royal,  215,  241, 
243,481,  552,  606. 

Pocock,  Mr.  (author),  117. 

Poetry  on  Macready's  acting,  82,  1 1 8, 
147,413,  641. 

Polhill,  Captain,  245,  324. 

Polignac,  The  Htiyuuiot,  Macready  as, 
201. 

Pollock,  Sir  Frederick,  624,  630,  646 ; 
Macready's  letters  to  Sir  Frederick 
and  Lady,  658  et  seq. 

Polonius,  Dr.  Johnson's  observations 
on,  36. 

Pompeii,  192. 

Pontefract  Theater,  Macready  at  the, 
241. 

Pope,  Alexander,  Macready's  edition  of 
the  works  of,  549,  552,  577,  579,  604. 

Pope,  Mr.  (actor),  36  et  seq.,  69,  330. 

Porter,  Miss  Jane  (authoress),  169. 

Portsmouth,  Theater  Royal,  242. 

Posthumus  Leonatus,  Cymbeline,  Ma- 
cready as,  36,  121,  '222,  241,  242,  283, 
399. 

Potter,  Dr.,  232. 

Potts,  Archdeacon,  216. 

Pourtales,  M.,  538. 

Powell,  Mr.  (actor),  698. 

Prescott,  Mr.  W.,  514. 

Price,  Mr.  Stephen  (manager),  114,  223, 
391. 

Princess's  Theater,  Macready's  per- 
formances at  the,  550,  559  ;  Shake- 
speare at  the,  561,  567,  685. 

Private  theatricals  at  the  British  Em- 
bassy, Paris,  540 ;  at  Charles  Dick- 
ens's  house,  657. 

Procter,  Bryan  Waller  (Barry  Corn- 
wall), sonnet  to  Macready  by,  118; 
on  Macready  in  Coriolanus,  147 ; 
Mirandola,  by,  161  et  seq.;  other  men- 
tion of,  150  et  seq.,  163,  470,  604,  630, 
645. 

Prospero,  The  Tempe.t,  Macready  as, 
164,  282,  442  et  seq.,  456. 

Provost  of  Bntges,  336,  340,  343,  352. 

Puff,  The  Critic,  Macready  as,  52,  244, 
263,301,395. 

"  Purring  "  at  Bolton-le-Moors,  6. 

Qtiin,  Dr.,  477,  630. 

Quin,  James  (comedian),  681. 

Rachel  (tragic  actress),  482,  483  et  seq., 

562,  568,  682. 
Racine,  Macready's  remarks  upon,  292 

et  seq. 
Radcliffe,  Mr.  E.  P.  Delm<?,  630. 


Regnicr  (actor),  536,  547,  604,  657. 
Rehearsal,  the  importance  of,  105. 
Repton  School,  559. 
Retribution,  Macready  in,  115. 
Reynolds,  Mr.  Hamilton   (author),  24, 

9*0,  97,  140,  151,  168,  202,  270. 
Reynolds,   Mr.   Frederick    (dramatist), 

244,  252,  348. 
Richard  II.,  48,  53,  73. 
Richard  III.,  Macready  as,  first  time  in 

London,   140  et  seq. ;  on  other  occa- 
sions,  48,    68,    161,    205,    363,    364; 

Cooke  as,  49  ;  Edmund  Kean  as,  57. 
Richard  Cromwell,  Macready  as,  470. 
Richelieu,  Macready  in  Bulwer's  play  of, 

443,  445  et  seq.,  448,  451  et  seq.,  481, 

512  et  seq.,  515,  518,  528,  529  et  seq., 

532  et  seq.,  535  et  seq.,  543-546,  548. 
Richer  the  Funambulist,  18. 
Richmond,  Duke  of,  73. 
Richmond  (Yorkshire),  Macready  per- 
forms at,  168. 
Richmond  (Surrey),  Macready  performs 

at,  317. 
Richmond     (America),    Macready    at, 

586. 

Ricketts,  Sir  J.,  17. 
Ridgway,  Mr.  (publisher),  153. 
Bintoal,  Mr.    R.    S.   (journalist),  423, 

631. 
Riots,  0.  P.,  at  Covcnt  Garden,  23 ;  in 

America,  594  et  seq. 
Ristori  (actress),  657,  682. 
Robert,  The  Curfew,  Macready  as,  102. 
Robert  Dudlev,  Marie  Stuart,  Macreadv 

as,  148. 

Roberts,  Mr.  David  (painter),  630. 
Robertson,  Mr.,  400  et  si-q.,  410,  417, 

419. 
Robins,  Mr.   George  (auctioneer),  215, 

331. 
Robinson,  Dr.  (Master  of  the  Temple), 

16. 
Rob  Roy  Macgreqor,  Macreadv  in,  117, 

et  seq.,  139,  159,  208,  220,  242,  256. 
"  Roderick  Dhu,"  Macready  as,  35. 
Rogers,  Samuel   (poet),  286,  469,  472, 

476,  630,  646,  647. 

"  Rolla,"  Macready  as,  32,  43,  87,  138. 
Roman!,  Proof  Presumptive,  Macready 

as,  125. 

Rome,  Macready  in,  194  et  seq. 
Romer,  Miss  (actress),  405  et  seq. 
Romeo,  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Macready  as, 

30,  65,  67,  82,  112. 
"Romeo  Coates,"  81,  86. 
Romont,   The  Fatal  Dowry,  Macready 

as,  218,  242.  « 

Rooke,  Mr.  W.  (composer),  410  et  seq. 
Rover,  Wild.  Oats,  Macready  as,  39. 


718 


INDEX. 


Roy,  Mr.  Eamohun,  367. 

Royal  Academy,  Macready  dines  with 
the,  497,  646. 

Royal  Oak,  The,  Dimond's  play,  36,  53. 

Rugby  School,  fagging  at,  8 ;  plays 
acted  by  the  boys  at,  11  ;  volunteer 
corps  at,  11  ;  "great  fun"  at,  13;  a 
fight  at,  15;  speech-day  at,  16;  after 
thirty  years'  absence,  480 ;  Macready 
gives  a  Shakespearian  reading  at, 
619. 

Kuskin,  Professor,  625. 

Kussell,  Lord  John  (now  Earl  Russell), 
434,  453. 

Kuthcrfurd,  Lord,  553,  etc. 

Rutherfurd,  Mrs.,  613. 

Rnthven,  Mary  Sluart,  Macreadv  as, 
466. 

Ryan,  Right  Hon.  Sir  E.,  631. 

Ryder,  Mr.  (manager),  157,  161,  205. 

Ryder,  Mr.  (actor),  508,  511,  515,  518, 
519,  522,  528,  581. 

Saint  Helier,  Macready  at,  548,  562. 
Saint  James's    Theater,   amateur    per- 
formance at,  551. 

Saint  Louis  (America),  532  et  seq. 
Saint  Maurice,  175. 
Salisbury  Theater,  Macready  performs 

at  the,"  329. 

Salmon,  Mrs.  (vocalist),  207. 
"Sand,  Geortre"  (authoress),  540,630, 

640,  657,  679. 

Saratoga  (America),  Macready  nt,  5,35. 
Sardanapalus,     Macready's     criticisms 

upon,  275,  287  et  seq. 
Surdanapalus,  Macready  in,  302,  311. 
Savannah,  Macready's  performances  at, 

520  ;  a  duel  at,  521. 
Scala,  La,  Milan,  197. 
Scarborough,  Macreadv's  performances 

in,  168,  243. 

Scharf,  Mr.  George  (artist),  445. 
Seheffcr  (painter),  538. 
Schiller,  Johann  Friedrich  (poet),  262, 

346,  698. 

Schlegel,  Frederick  and  William,  642. 
Schroeder,  Hcrr  (actor),  49,  642. 
Schroeder,  Madame  (actress),  333. 
Schneider,  Herr  (actor),  496  et  seq. 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  130.  135,  250,  679. 
Scroope,  Merchant  of  London,  Macready 

as,  246,  260. 

Sedgwick,  Professor,  435. 
Serlc,  Mr.  (dramatic  author),  252,  281, 

291,  295,  456,462,484. 
Seymour,  Lord,  336. 
Shakespeare  Club,  453. 
Shee,   P.   R.   A.,    Sir    Martin    Archer 

(painter),  459,  462,  476,  560. 


Sheffield,  Theatre  Royal,  74,  218,  221, 
240,  324,  542. 

Sheil,  M.  P.,  Right  Hon.  Richard  Lalor 
(dramatic  author),  104,  120,  126,  139, 
156,  164,  201,  218,  228,  287,  299,  310, 
339,  394,  403,  623,  648,  etc. 

Sherborne,  Macready  in  retirement  at, 
603,  617,  645,  646,  648  et  seq.,  653, 
658,  666. 

Sheridan,  Richard  Brinsley,  124. 

Shields,  Theater  Royal,  241. 

Shirley,  Mr.  (author),  127. 

ShirrefF,  Miss  (actress),  406  et  seq. 

Shrewsbury,  Theater  Royal,  218,  221, 
240,  607. 

Shylock,  Merchant  of  Venice,  Edmund 
Kean  as,  57. 

Shylock,  Merchant  of  Venice,  Macreadv 
as,  202,  463  et  seq.,  531,  534,  536,  543", 
544,  546. 

Siddons,  Mrs.  Sarah,  nets  with  Ma- 
cready at  Newcastle,  39;  her  instruc- 
tions to  a  young  actor,  42  ;  criticism 
on  her  acting,  42,  44,  46,  63 ;  re-ap- 
pears at  Charles  Kemblu's  benefit,  129 
et  seq.  ;  her  remarks  on  Charles  Kem- 
ble,  138  :  as  Aspasia  in  Tamerlane, 
146 ;  otherwise  mentioned  by  Ma- 
cready, 4,  76,  280,  316,  669,  682 ;  me- 
morial in  Westminster  Abhev,  269, 
285,  297,  304,  307,  472,  474,  476.  508, 
551,  574,  604  et  seq. 

Simplon,  the,  175. 

Simpson,  Mr.  (Birmingham  Theater), 
471. 

Simpson,  Mr.  (actor),  321. 

Simpson,  Mr.  Palgrave,  469. 

Sinano,  Balamira,  Macready  as,  120. 

Sinclair,  Mr.  J.  (vocalist),  in  Midas, 
52  ;  other  mention  of,  95,  103,  117. 

Sloan,  Mr.  (manager),  543. 

Sloman,  Mrs.  (tragic  actress),  443. 

Skerrett,  the  Sisters,  341,  342,  444,  450, 
452,  607. 

Smith,  Miss  (actress),  as  "Ehvina,"  44 ; 
as  "  Cora,"  45. 

Smith,  Colonel  Hamilton,  486,  500,  552 

Smith,  Sir  Sidney,  395. 

Smith,  Mr.  E.  T.  (lessee  of  Prury  Lane 
Theater),  683. 

Smith,  Mr.  W.  (dramatic  author),  503. 

Smith,  Mr.  Henry,  366,  403,  631. 

Smith,  Dr.  Southwood,  376. 

Smithson,  Miss  (actress),  683. 

Snowdon,  M.,  a  holiday  trip  to,  88 

Socrates,  by  Barbara,  471. 

Somerville,  Miss  (actress),  125  et  seq. 

Somervillc,  Mrs.,  249. 

Southampton,  Theater  Royal,  204,  221, 
548. 


INDEX. 


719 


Sou  they,  Robert  (poet  laureate),  255. 
Sparks,.  Mr.  Jared,  514  et  seq. 
Speeches  made  by  Macready  on  various 

occasions,  224,  263,  307,  370,  423,  460, 

505  et  seq.,  580  et  seq.,  584,  608,  611, 

614  et  seq.,  628  et  seq.,  636  et  seq. 
Spinola  in  Nina  Sfarza,  Macready  as, 

486. 

Spurgin,  Dr.,  291,  296. 
Spurgin,  Mrs.,  344. 
Stael,  Madame  de,  Macready's  remarks 

upon,  349  ft  seq.,  509. 
Stafford,  M.  P.,  Mr.  Augustus,  630. 
Stage,  Macready's  remarks  upon   the, 

67,  80,  83,  90,  220,  253,  267,  274,  275, 

291,  296,  301,  362,  518,  548. 
Stamford,  Theater  Royal,  215,  241,  548. 
Stantiekl,  R.  A.,  Mr.  Clarkson  (painter), 

417,421,  454,  462,  630,  641,  647. 
Stanley,  Mr.  (manager),  280,  281. 
Staudigl,  Herr  (vocalist),  483,  568. 
Steele,  Sir  Richard  (author),  631. 
Stephens,  Miss,  afterwards  Countess  of 

Essex,  96  et  seq.,  97,  103,   117,  137, 

164,  169,  171,  200,391. 
Stewards  for  Macready's  farewell  din- 
ner, 630  et  seq. 

Stirling,  Mr.  (manager),  559,  563. 
Stirling,  Mrs.  (actress),  474. 
Stone,  Mr.  F.  (painter),  631. 
Story,  Mr.  Justice,  514,  549,  578. 
Stonrbridge  Theater,  Macready  at  the, 

243. 
Strafford,   397    et  seq. ;    The    Stranger, 

Macready  as,  264,  531,  536,  545. 
Strickland,  Mr.  (actor),  406. 
Strzelecki,  Count,  645. 
Sue,  M.  Eugene  (author),  537  et  seq. 
Sullivan,  Miss,  50. 
Sumner,  Mr.   Charles,   513,   540,    550, 

650. 

Snnderland,  Theater  Royal,  215. 
Surrey  Theater,  139,  559,  563. 
Stitton,  Mr.  Manners,  507. 
Swansea,  Theater  Royal,  136,  218,  240, 

241,  318,  382. 

Taglioni  (danseuse),  272  et  seq. 

Tait,  Mr.  John  (author),  149,  168. 

Talfourd,  Mr.  Justice  (author  of  Ton), 
an  arbiter  in  Macready's  dispute  with 
the  Coven  t  Garden  Committee,  202  ; 
otherwise  mentioned,  159,  252,  274, 
276,  288,  295,  303,  307,  330,  333,  342, 
343,  352,  359,  361,  367  et  seq.,  372, 
374,  388,  418,  421,  430,  462,  464,  630, 
647. 

Talma  (tragedian),  dinner  to,  108; 
genius  of,  172;  in  Sylla,  199  etseq.; 
otherwise  mentioned,  274,  513,  682. 


Tangent,  The  Way  to  Gtt  Married,  Ma- 
cready as,  '52. 

Tannton,  Macready  performs  at,  218. 

Taylor,  Sir  Henry  (author),  561,  569, 
578,  607,  621,  646,  697. 

Taylor,  Mr.  Tom  (author),  631,  647. 

Teignmouth,  Lord,  337. 

Temptst,  Shakespeare's,  438,  441,  457. 

Tennent,  Mr.  Emerson,  337,  502. 

Tennyson.  Mr.  Alfred  (poet  laureate), 
560,  630,  641. 

Terence,  Macready's  remarks  on,  394 

Terry,  Mr.  (actor),  95,  97,  128,  141,  151, 
155,  218. 

Theatrical  Fund,  566,  660. 

Theatrical  anecdotes,  49  et  seq.,  122, 
158,  206,  262,  282,  301,  323  et  se.q., 
332,  356,  358,  451,  519. 

Thebes,  panorama  of,  337. 

The  Slave,  95. 

Thillon,  Madame,  561. 

Tlioas,  The  Athenian  Captive,  Macready 
as,  428  et  seq. 

Thompson,  Sir  Henry,  700. 

Thorburn,  Mr.  (painter),  509. 

Tieck  Ludwig  (Shakespearian  commen- 
tator), 106,  643. 

Timoitr  the  Tartar,  by  Monk  Lewis,  37. 

Tintern  Abbey,  383. 

Tobin,  Mr.  John  (author  of  The  Honey- 
moon), 36,  39. 

Tokely,  Mr.  (actor),  62,  117. 

Tramezzani,  Signor  (vocalist),  32,  37. 
386. 

Travis,  Deborah  (vocalist),  207. 

Tree,  Miss  M.  (actress),  164, 171. 

Tree,  Miss  Ellen  (actress),  271,  302 
et  seq.,  360,  361,  369,  378,  381,  388. 

Troughton,  Mr.  Zouch  (dramatist),  381, 
471,  631. 

Trueban,  Don  (author),  252. 

Tuileries,  Macready  performs  at  the, 
539. 

Turin,  Macreadv  at,  197. 

Turner,  R.  A.,  3.  M.  W.  (painter),  641. 

Turton,  Dean  (afterwards  Bishop  of 
Ely),  508. 

Twinings,  Messrs.,  305. 

Twiss,  Francis,  77. 

Twiss,  Horace,  77,  424,  487,  550. 

Urquhart,  Mr.,  337. 
Utica  (America),  535. 

Valebreque,  M.,  33. 

Valentio,  Conquest  of  Tar anto,  Macready 

as,  103,  109. 

Vanbrugh,  Sir  J.  (dramatist),  347. 
Vandenhoff,  Mr.  John  (tragedian),  160, 

378,  381,  405,  438,  442,  443. 


720 


INDEX. 


Van  de  Weyer,  his  Excellency  M., 
speech  of,  at  Macready's  farewell 
dinner,  640 ;  otherwise  mentioned, 
630. 

Vatte!,  M.,  537. 

Venice,  Macready  in,  184. 

Vere,  Mr.  Aubrey  de,  561,  696. 

Vernon,  Mr.,  24. 

Verona,  Macready  at,  178;  Juliet's 
tomb  at,  179. 

Vertpre,  Jenny  (actress),  334,  375. 

Vestris,  Madame  (actress  and  man- 
ageress), 201,  305. 

Vesuvius,  190  et  seq. 

Vickers,  Captain  Hedley,  477. 

Vieuxtemps,  M.  (violinist),  518. 

Vigny,  Comte  Alfred  de,  450. 

Vining,  Mr.  (actor),  280. 

Vining,  Mr.  F.  (actor),  406. 

Virgil,  339. 

Virginivt,  Sheridan  Knowlcs  composes, 
150;  price  paid  for,  151;  first  night 
of,  152;  publication  of,  153;  dedi- 
cated to  Macready,  1 54  et  seq. ;  ab- 
surd performance  of,  at  Liverpool, 
158;  ridiculous  incident  in  the  per- 
formance of,  at  Kendal,  206 ;  Ma- 
cready in,  151,  155, 159,  208,  210,  215, 
219,  222,  224,  227,  241,  242,  267,  281, 
301,  479,  512,  513,  514,  528,  533,  534, 
537,  542,  544,  546,  551,  591,  60S,  620, 
624,  633. 

Vivian,  Sir  Hussey,  263. 

Voltaire,  198,  278,'  294,  348. 

Wainwright,    Mr.,    "Janus    Weather- 
cock," sad  career  of,  163. 
Walhouse,  Mr.  (Lord   Iliithertou),   16, 

658. 
Walker,  Mr.   (dramatic   author),   160, 

168. 

Wallace,  Macready  as,  160. 
Wallace,  Mr.  (journalist),  212,  216,  288, 

291,  344,  366,  369,  414,  457. 
Wallack,  Mr.  (actor  and  manager),  218, 

631. 
Wallenberg,  Fredolfo,  Macready  as,  128 

et  seq. 
Wnllenstein,  Coleridge's  translation  of, 

382. 

Wai  pole,  Right  Hon.  Spencer  H.,  298. 
Walron,  Mr.,  343. 
Walsingham,  Woman's  Wit,  Macrcadv 

as,  431. 

Walstein,  Miss,  74. 
Warburton,  Eliot,  630. 
Ward,  R.  A.,  Mr.  (painter),  631,  647. 
Warner,  Mrs.  (tragic  actress),  606,  618. 
Warren,  Mr.  Samuel,  Q.  C.,  298,  334, 
Warrender,  Sir  G.,  391. 


Warwick   Theater,   Macready   at    the, 

241. 
Washington   (America),  Macreadv   at, 

586. 
Wattrford   Theater,  Macready  at  the, 

218. 

Watts,  Alaric,  128. 
Wel)be,    Mr.    Egerton,   413,  424,   42."), 

429. 

Webster,  Benjamin    (actor    and    man- 
ager), 399,  405,  434,  470,  604,  619,  627, 

630. 

Webster,  Daniel,  457,  528. 
Weekly  Despatch,  446. 
Wellesley,  Lord  Charles,  496  et  seq. 
"  Werner,"  Macready  as,  242,  244,  265 

et  seq.,  280,  283,  301,  480,  512  et  set/., 

515,  528,  531,  534  et   se/.,   535,   537, 

544,  546  et  set], 
West,  Mr.  W.,  629. 
Wfston-super-Mare,    Macready's     last 

days  at,  700. 

Wheatstone,  Professor,  467. 
Whewell,  Dr.  (Master  of  Trinity   Col- 
lege, Cambridge),  113. 
Whitby  Theater,  Macready  at  the,  168. 
White,   Rev.  James   (dramatist),   303, 

550,  680. 

Whitehaven,  Theater  Royal,  109,  545. 
Whitworth's  factory  at  Manchester,  328. 
Wight  wick,  Mr.  George,  552,  563,  651, 

etc. 
Wilford,  The  Iron  Chest,  Macready  as, 

62. 
William  Tell,  Knowles's  play,  219,  220, 

Macready  in,  222,  241,  24~4,  266,  277, 

360,393,529,  531,  633. 
William    Wyndham,    The    Royal   Oak, 

Macready  as,  53. 
Williamson,  D.  (Westminster  School), 

457. 

Wilkie,  Sir  David  (painter),  337,  455. 
Willes,  Mr.  Justice,  657. 
Willis,  Mr.  N.  P.,  512. 
Willmott,   Mr.    (prompter),    365,   404, 

631,  645,  etc. 
Wilson,  Miss  (actress),  as  Mandanc  in 

Artaxerxes,  161,  411. 
Wilson,  Lieutenaut-General   Sir  John, 

630,  632. 

Windsor  Castle,  Macready  acts  at,  609. 
Winkelmann,  315  et  stq. 
Winston,  Mr.  Jones   (manager  of  the 

"  Garrick  Club"),  364  et  seq. 
Wisbeach  Theater,  Macreadv  at  the, 

376. 
Wolsey,  King  Henry  VIII.,  Macready 

as,  201,  218,  242,  274,  610,  612. 
Wolverhampton,  Theater  Royal,  240.. 
"  Wolves,"  the,  90,  102,  252.  ' 


INDEX. 


721 


Woman's  Wit,  431. 
Wooll,  Dr.  (Kugby  School),  15,  82,  280 

et  seq.,  286. 

Worcester,  Theater  Royal,  241. 
Wordsworth,  William,   207,   260,  372, 

558,616,  625. 
Worthing  Theater,  Macready  at  the, 

280. 

Woulds,  Mr.,  327,  328, 358. 
Wyse,  Mr.,  337. 

Yarmouth  Theater,  Macreadv  at  the, 

240,  243,  548. 
Yates,  Mr.  (actor  and  manager),  128, 

138,  201,  345. 
York  Theater,  great  actors  from  the, 

27 ;  Macready's  engagements  at  the, 

207,  215. 


Young  Mario w,  She  Stoops  to  Conquer, 
52. 

Young,  Charles  Mayne  (tragedian),  en- 
gaged by  Macready's  father,  62  ;  his 
advice  to  Macready,  ib. ;  as  Robert 
Tyke,  ib. ;  takes  leading  parts  alter- 
nately with  Macready,  94  ;  as  Daran, 
169  ;  otherwise  mentioned,  24,  38,  52, 
92,  97,  103,  105  et  seq.,  120  et  seq.,  125 
et  seq.,  138, 168,  170  et  seq.,  200  et  seq., 
223,  367,  630  ;  death  of,  657. 

Young,  Mrs.  (actress),  30. 

Zaire,  an  Italian  version  of  Voltaire's, 

186, 
Zanga,  Revenge,  Macready  as,  31,  159, 

242. 
Zaphna,  Mahomet,  Macready  as,  45. 


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»nd  American  Additions,  arranged  by  EVKRT  A.  DPYCKINCK,  Editor  of  "Cyclo- 
paedia of  American  Literature."  Comprising  Selections  from  the  Greatest  Au- 
thors of  the  Age.  Superbly  Illustrated  with  141  Engravings  from  Designs  by 
the  most  Eminent  Artists.  In  elegant  small  4to  form,  printed  on  Superfine 
Tinted  Paper,  richly  bound  in  extra  Cloth,  Beveled,  Gilt  Edges,  $5  00 ;  Half  Calf, 
$5  50;  Full  Turkey  Morocco,  $9  00. 

THE  REVISION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  VERSION  OF  THE  NEW  TESTAMENT. 
With  an  Introduction  by  the  Rev.  P.  SOUAFF,  D.D.  618  pp.,  Crown  8vo,  Cloth, 
$300. 

This  work  embraces  in  one  volume: 

I.  ON  A  FRESH  REVISION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NEW  TESTAMENT. 
By  J.  B.  LIGUTFOOT,  D.D.,  Canon  of  St.  Paul's,  and  Hulsean  Professor  of 
Divinity,  Cambridge.  Second  Edition,  Revised.  196  pp. 
II.  ON  THE  AUTHORIZED  VERSION  OF  THE  NEW  TESTAMENT  in 
Connection  with  some  Recent  Proposals  for  its  Revision.  By  RICUABU 
CIIENEVIX  TRENCH,  D.D.,  Archbishop  of  Dublin.  194  pp. 

III.  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  THE  REVISION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  VERSION 
OF  THE  NEW  TESTAMENT.  By  J.  C.  ELLICOTT,  D.D.,  Bishop  of  Glou- 
cester and  Bristol.  178  pp. 

NORDHOFF'S  CALIFORNIA.  California:  For  Health,  Pleasure,  and  Residence 
A  Book  for  Travelers  and  Settlers.  Illustrated.  8vo,  Paper,  $2  00 ;  Cloth,  $2  50.' 

MOTLEY'S  DUTCH  REPUBLIC.  The  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic.  By  JOHN  Lo- 
THBOP  MOTLEY,  LL.D.,  D.C.L.  With  a  Portrait  of  William  of  Orange.  3  vols., 
8vo,  Cloth,  $10  50. 

MOTLEY'S  UNITED  NETHERLANDS.  History  of  the  United  Netherlands :  from 
the  Death  of  William  the  Silent  to  the  Twelve  Years'  Truce— 1609.  With  a  full 
View  of  the  English-Dutch  Struggle  against  Spain,  and  of  the  Origin  and  De- 
struction of  the  Spanish  Armada.  By  JOHN  LOTUROP  MOTLEY,  LL.D.,  D.C.L. 
Portraits.  4  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $14  00. 

MOTLEY'S  LIFE  AND  DEATH  OF  JOHN  OF  BARNEVELD.  Life  and  Death 
of  John  of  Barneveld,  Advocate  of  Holland.  With  a  View  of  the  Primary 
Causes  and  Movements  of  "The  Thirty  Years'  War."  By  JOHN  LOTIIHOP  MOT- 
IKY,  D.C.L.  With  Illustrations.  In  Two  Volume?.  8vo," Cloth,  $7  00. 

HAYDN'S  DICTIONARY  OF  DATES,  relating  to  all  Ages  and  Nations.  For  Uni- 
versal Reference.  Edited  bv  BENJAMIN  VINCENT,  Assistant  Secretary  and  Keeper 
of  the  Library  of  the  Royal  Institution  of  Great  Britain ;  and  Revised  for  the  Use 
of  American  Readers.  8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00 ;  Sheep,  $6  00. 

MACGREGOR'S  ROB  ROY  ON  THE  JORDAN.  The  Rob  Boy  on  the  Jordan, 
Nile,  Red  Sea,  and  Gennesareth,  &c.  A  Canoe  Cruise  in  Palestine  and  Egypt, 
and  the  Waters  of  Damascus.  By  J.  MAOGBEGOB,  M.A.  With  Maps  and  Illus- 
trations. Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

WALLACE'S  MALAY  ARCHIPELAGO.  The  Malay  Archipelago :  the  Land  of  the 
Orang-Utan  and  the  Bird  of  Paradise.  A  Narrative  of  Travel,  1854-1862.  With 
Studies  of  Man  and  Nature.  By  ALFRED  RITSSEL  WALLACE.  With  Ten  Maps 
and  Fifty-one  Elegant  Illustrations.  Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

WHYMPER'S  ALASKA.  Travel  and  Adventure  in  the  Territory  of  Alaska,  for- 
merly Russian  America— now  Ceded  to  the  United  States— and  in  various  other 
parts  of  the  North  Pacific.  By  FBKDEBIOK  WHYMPEB.  With  Map  and  Illustra. 
tions.  Crowu  Svo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

ORTON'S  ANDES  AND  THE  AMAZON.  The  Andes  and  the  Amazon ;  or.  Across 
the  Continent  of  South  America.  By  JAMES  OBTON,  M.  A.,  Professor  of  Natunil 
History  in  Vassar  College,  Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y.,  and  Corresponding  Member  of 
the  Academy  of  NnturalSciences,  Philadelphia.  With  a  New  Map  of  Equatorial 
America  and  numerous  Illustrations.  Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 

WINCHELL'S  SKETCHES  OF  CREATION.  Sketches  of  Creation :  a  Popular 
View  of  some  of  the  Grand  Conclusions  of  the  Sciences  in  reference  to  the  His- 
tory of  Matter  and  of  Life.  Together  with  a  Statement  of  the  Intimations  of 
Science  respecting  the  Primordial  Condition  and  the  Ultimate  Destiny  of  the 
Earth  and  the  Solar  System.  By  ALEXANDER  WINOHELL,  LL.D.,  Professor  of 
Geology,  Zoology,  and  Botany  in  the  University  of  Michigan,  and  Director  of  the 
State  Geological' Survey.  With  Illustrations.  12mo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 

WHITE'S  MASSACRE  OF  ST.  BARTHOLOMEW.  The  Massacre  of  8t  Bartholo- 
mew :  Preceded  by  a  History  of  the  Religions  Wars  in  the  Reign  of  Charles  IX. 
By  HSNBY  WHITE,  M.A.  With  Illustrations.  Svo,  Cloth,  *l  T5. 


Harper  &  Brothers'  Valuable  and  Interesting  Works.      3 

LOSSING'S  FIELD-BOOK  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  Pictorial  Field-Book  of  th« 
Revolution ;  or,  Illustrations,  by  Pen  and  Pencil,  of  the  History,  Biography, 
Scenery,  Relics,  and  Traditions  of  the  War  for  Independence.  By  BHNSON  J. 
LOBBING.  2  vole.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $14  00;  Sheep,  $15  00;  Half  Calf,  $18  00;  Full 
Turkey  Morocco,  $22  00. 

LOSSING'S  FIELD-BOOK  OF  THE  WAR  OF  1812.  Pictorial  Field-Book  of  the 
War  of  1812;  or,  Illustrations,  by  Pen  and  Pencil,  of  the  History,  Biography, 
Scenery,  Relics,  and  Traditions  of  the  Last  War  for  American  Independence.  By 
BENSON  J.  LOSSING.  With  several  hundred  Engravings  on  Wood,  by  Lossing  and 
Barritt,  chiefly  from  Original  Sketches  by  the  Author.  1088  pages,  Svo,  Cloth, 
$700;  Sheep,  $850;  Half  Calf,  $10  00. 

ALFORD'S  GREEK  TESTAMENT.  The  Greek  Testament :  with  a  critically  revised 
Text ;  a  Digest  of  Various  Readings ;  Marginal  References  to  Verbal  and  Idio- 
matic Usage ;  Prolegomena ;  and  a  Critical  and  Exegetical  Commentary.  For 
the  Use  of  Theological  Students  and  Ministers.  By  HENBY  AL'FORD,  D.D".,  Deaa 
of  Canterbury.  Vol.  I.,  containing  the  Four  Gospels.  944  pages,  Svo,  Cloth, 
$6  00 ;  Sheep,  $6  50. 

ABBOTT'S  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT.  The  History  of  Frederick  the  Second, 
called  Frederick  the  Great.  By  JOHN  S.  C.  ABBOTT.  Elegantly  Illustrated.  Svo, 
Cloth,  $5  00. 

ABBOTT'S  HISTORY  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  The  French  Revolu- 
tion of  1T89,  as  viewed  in  the  Light  of  Republican  Institutions.  By  JOHN  S.  C.  Au« 
BOTT.  With  100  Engravings.  Svo,  Cloth,  $5  00. 

ABBOTT'S  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE.  The  History  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte.  By 
JOUN  S.  C.  ABBOTT.  With  Maps,  Woodcuts,  and  Portraits  on  Steel.  2  vols., 
Svo,  Cloth,  $10  00. 

ABBOTT'S  NAPOLEON  AT  ST.  HELENA ;  or,  Interesting  Anecdotes  and  Remark- 
able Conversations  of  the  Emperor  during  the  Five  and  a  Half  Years  of  his 
Captivity.  Collected  from  the  Memorials  of  Las  Casas,  O'Meara,  Montholon, 
Antommarchi,  and  others.  By  JOHN  S.  C.  ABBOTT.  With  Illustrations.  Svo, 
Cloth,  $5  00. 

ADDISON'S  COMPLETE  WORKS.  The  Works  of  Joseph  Addison,  embracing  the 
whole  of  the  "Spectator."  Complete  in  3  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $6  00. 

ALCOCK'S  JAPAN.  The  Capital  of  the  Tycoon :  a  Narrative  of  a  Three  Years' 
Residence  in  Japan.  By  Sir  RCTTIIKRKOBD  ALCOCK,  K.C.B.,  Her  Majesty's  Envoy 
Extraordinary  and  Minister  Plenipotentiary  in  Japan.  With  Maps  and  Engravings. 
2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 

ALISON'S  HISTORY  OF  EUROPE.  FIRST  SERIES  :  From  the  Commencement  of 
the  French  Revolution,  in  1789,  to  the  Restoration  of  the  Bourbons,  in  1815.  [In 
addition  to  the  Notes  on  Chapter  LXXVL,  which  correct  the  errors  of  the 
original  work  concerning  the  United  States,  a  copious  Analytical  Index  has  been 
appended  to  this  American  edition.]  SECOND  SERIES  :  From  the  Fall  of  Napoleon, 
in  1S15,  to  the  Accession  of  Louis  Napoleon,  in  1852.  8  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $16  00. 

BALDWIN'S  PRE-HISTORIC  NATIONS.  Pre-Historic  Nations ;  or,  Inquiries  con- 
cerning some  of  the  Great  Peoples  and  Civilizations  of  Antiquity,  and  their 
Probable  Relation  to  a  still  Older  Civilization  of  the  Ethiopians  or  Cushites  of 
Arabia.  By  JOHN  D.  BALDWIN,  Member  of  the  American  Oriental  Society. 
12mo,  Cloth,  $1  75. 

BARTH'S  NORTH  AND  CENTRAL  AFRICA.  Travels  and  Discoveries  in  North 
and  Central  Africa:  being  a  Journal  of  an  Expedition  undertaken  under  the 
Auspices  of  H.  B.  M.'s  Government,  in  the  Years  1849-1855.  By  HENBY  BABTU, 
Ph.D.,  D.C.L.  Illustrated.  3  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $12  00. 

HENRY  WARD  BEECHER'S  SERMONS.  Sermons  by  HENRY  WARD  BEEOHBR, 
Plymouth  Church,  Brooklyn.  Selected  from  Published  and  Unpublished  Dis- 
courses, and  Revised  by  their  Author.  With  Steel  Portrait.  Complete  in  2  vols.. 
Svo,  Cloth,  $5  00. 

LYMAN  BEECHER'S  AUTOBIOGRAPHY,  &o.  Autobiography,  Correspondence, 
<fec.,  of  Lyman  Beecher,  D.D.  Edited  by  his  Son,  CHARLES  BBEOHKR.  With  Three 
Steel  Portraits,  and  Engravings  on  Wood.  In  2  -rols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $5  00. 

BOSWELL'S  JOHNSON.  The  Life  of  Samuel  Johnson,  LL.D.  Including  a  Journej 
to  the  Hebrides.  By  JAMES  BOSWELL,  Esq.  A  New  Edition,  with  numerous 
Additions  and  Notes.  By  JOHN  WILSON  CBOKER,  LL.D.,  F.R.S.  Portrait  of 
Boswell.  2  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $4  00. 


4      Harper  &>  Brothers'  Valuable  and  Interesting  Works. 

DRAPER'S  CIVIL  WAR.  History  of  the  American  Civil  War.  By  JOUN  W.  DRA- 
PER, M.D.,  LL.D.,  Professor  of  Chemistry  and  Physiology  in  the  University  of 
New  York.  lu  Three  Vols.  8vo,  Cloth,  $3  50  per  vol. 

DRAPER'S  INTELLECTUAL  DEVELOPMENT  OP  EUROPE.  A  History  of  the 
Intellectual  Development  of  Europe.  By  JOHN  W.  DKAI-F.B,  M.D.,  LL.D.,  Profess- 
or of  Chemistry  and  Physiology  in  the  University  of  New  York.  8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00 

DRAPER'S  AMERICAN  CIVIL  POLICY.  Thoughts  on  the  Future  Civil  Policy  of 
America.  By  JOHN  W.  DKAPEK,  M.D.,  LL.D.,  Professor  of  Chemistry  and  Physiol- 
ogy in  the  University  of  New  York.  Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

DU  CHAILLU'S  AFRICA.  Explorations  and  Adventures  in  Equatorial  Africa  with 
Accounts  of  the  Manners  and  Customs  of  the  People,  and  of  the  Chase  of  the  Go- 
rilla, the  Crocodile,  Leopard,  Elephant,  Hippopotamus,  and  other  Animals.  Bjr 
PAUL  11.  Do  CHAII.LU.  Numerous  Illustrations.  8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00. 

BELLOWS'S  OLD  WORLD.  The  Old  World  in  its  New  Face :  Impressions  of  Eu- 
rope in  1S6T-1868.  By  HENBY  W.  BELLOWS.  2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 

BRODHEAD'S  HISTORY  OF  NEW  YORK.  History  of  the  State  of  New  York. 
By  JOUN  ROMEYN  BROI>HEAT>.  1609-1691.  2  vols.  8vo,  Cloth,  $3  00  per  vol. 

BROUGHAM'S  AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  Life  and  Times  of  HENKY,  LORD  BROUGHAM 
Written  by  Himself.  In  Three  Volumes.  12mo,  Cloth,  $2  00  per  vol. 

BULWER'S  PROSE  WORKS.  Miscellaneous  Prose  Works  of  Edward  Bulwer. 
Lord  Lytton.  2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 

BULWER'S  HORACE.  The  Odes  and  Epodes  of  Horace.  A  Metrical  Translation 
into  English.  With  Introduction  and  Commentaries.  By  Lor.i>  LYTTON.  With 
Latin  Text  from  the  Editions  of  Orelli,  Macleane,  and  Youge.  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  75. 

BULWER'S  KING  ARTHUR.  A  Poem.  By  EARL  LYTTON.  New  Edition.  12mo, 
Cloth,  $1  75. 

BURNS'S  LIFE  AND  WORKS.  The  Life  and  Works  of  Robert  Burns.  Edited 
by  ROBEUT  CHAMBERS.  4  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $6  00. 

REINDEER,  DOGS,  ANS»  SNOW-SHOES.  A  Journal  of  Siberian  Travel  and  Ex- 
plorations made  in  the  Years  18G5-'67.  By  RIOHAUD  J.  BUSH,  late  of  the  Russo- 
American  Telegraph  Expedition.  Illustrated.  Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 

CARLYLE'S  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT.  History  of  Friedrich  II.,  called  Frederick 
the  Great.  By  THOMAS  CARLYLE.  Portraits,  Maps,  Plans,  &c.  6  vols.,  12mo, 
Cloth,  $12  00. 

CARLYLE'S  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  History  of  the  French  Revolution.  Newly 
Revised  by  the  Author,  with  Index,  &c.  2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 

CARLYLE'S  OLIVER  CROMWELL.  Letters  and  Speeches  of  Oliver  CromwelL 
With  Elucidations  and  Connecting  Narrative.  2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 

CHALMERS'S  POSTHUMOUS  WORKS.  The  Posthumous  Works  of  Dr.  Chalmers. 
Edited  by  his  Son-in-Law,  Rev.  WILLIAM  HANNA,  LL.D.  Complete  in  9  vols., 
12mo,  Cloth,  $13  50. 

COLERIDGE'S  COMPLETE  WORKS.  The  Complete  Works  of  Samuel  Taylor 
Coleridge.  With  an  Introductory  Essay  upon  his  Philosophical  and  Theological 
Opinions.  Edited  by  Professor  S.IIKUD.  Complete  in  Seven  Vols.  With  a  fine 
Portrait.  Small  8vo,  Cloth,  $10  50. 

DOOLITTLE'S  CHINA.  Social  Life  of  the  Chinese :  with  some  Account  of  their  Re- 
ligious, Governmental,  Educational,  and  Business  Customs  and  Opinions.  With 
special  but  not  exclusive  Reference  to  Fuhchau.  By  Rev.  JUSTUS  DOOLITTLE, 
Fourteen  Years  Member  of  the  Fuhchau  Mission  of  the  American  Board.  Illus- 
trated with  more  than  150  characteristic  Engravings  on  Wood.  2  vols.,  12mo, 
Cloth,  $5  00. 

GIBBON'S  ROME.  History  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire.  By  En- 
wARi>  GIHHON.  With  Notes  by  Rev.  H.  H.  MII.MAN  and  M.  GUI/OT.  A  new  cheap 
Edition.  To  which  is  added  a  complete  Index  of  the  whole  Work,  and  a  Portrait 
of  the  Author.  C  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $9  00. 

HAZEN'S  SCHOOL  AND  ARMY  IN  GERMANY  AND  FRANCE.  The  School 
nud  the  Army  in  Germany  and  France,  with  a  Diary  of  Siege  Life  at  Versailles. 
By  Brevet  Major-General  W.  B.  HAZKN,  U.S.A.,  Colonel  Sixth  Infantry.  Crown 
Svo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 


Harper  cv  Brothers'  Valuat/ie  and  Interesting  Works.      5 

HARPER'S  NEW  CLASSICAL  LIBRARY.    Literal  Translations. 

The  following  Volumes  are  now  ready.    Portraits.    12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50  each. 

CAESAR. — VIRGIL.  —  SALLTIST.  —  HORACE.—  CICERO'S  ORATIONG. — CIOKEO'S  OFFICER 
&C. — CICERO  ON  OBATOEY  AND  OBATOKS. — TACITUS  ('2  vols.).  —  TEBENCE. — 
SOPIIOOLKS. — JUVENAL. — XENOPHON. —  HOMKE'S  ILIAI>. — HOMKR'S  ODYSSEY. — 
HERODOTUS. — DEMOSTHENES. — THUOYDIDES. — AESCHYLUS. — EUEIPIDES  (2  vols.). 
— LIVY  (2  vols.). 

DA  VIS'S  CARTHAGE.  Carthage  and  her  Remains :  being  an  Account  of  the  Exca- 
vations andResearches  on  the  Site  of  the  Phoenician  Metropolis  in  Africa  and  other 
adjacent  Places.  Conducted  under  the  Auspices  of  Her  Majesty's  Government. 
Bv  Dr.  DAVIS,  F.R.G.S.  Profusely  Illustrated  with  Maps,  Woodcuts,  Chromo- 
Lithographs,  &c.  8vo,  Cloth,  $4  00. 

EDGEWORTH'S  (Miss)  NOVELS.   With  Engravings.    10  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $15  00. 
GROTE'S  HISTORY  OF  GREECE.    12  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $18  00. 

HELPS'S  SPANISH  CONQUEST.  The  Spanish  Conquest  in  America,  and  its  Rela- 
tion to  the  History  of  Slavery  and  to  the  Government  of  Colonies.  By  ARTHUB 
HELPS.  4  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $6  00. 

lALE'S  (MRS.)  WOMAN'S  RECORD.  Woman's  Record ;  or,  Biographical  Sketches 
of  all  Distinguished  Women,  from  the  Creation  to  the  Present  Time.  Arranged 
in  Four  Eras,  with  Selections  from  Female  Writers  of  each  Era.  By  Mrs.  SABAU 
JOSEPHA  HALE.  Illustrated  with  more  than  200  Portraits.  8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00. 

HALL'S  ARCTIC  RESEARCHES.  Arctic  Researches  and  Life  among  the  Esqui- 
maux :  heing  the  Narrative  of  an  Expedition  in  Search  of  Sir  John  Franklin,  in 
the  Years  1SOO.  1861,  and  1862.  By  CHARLES  FBANCIB  HALL.  With  Maps  and  100 
Illustrations.  The  Illustrations  are  from  Original  Drawings  by  Charles  Parsons, 
Henry  L.  Stephens,  Solomon  Eytinge,  W.  S.  L.  Jewett,  and  Granville  Perkins, 
after  Sketches  by  Captain  Hall.  8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00. 

HALLAM'S  CONSTITUTIONAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND,  from  the  Accession  of 
Henry  VII.  to  the  Death  of  George  II.  8vo,  Clotfc,  $2  00. 

HALLAM'S  LITERATURE.  Introduction  to  the  Literature  of  Europe  during  the 
Fifteenth,  Sixteenth,  and  Seventeenth  Centuries.  By  HENRY  HALLAM.  2  vols., 
8vo,  Cloth,  $4  00. 

HALLAM'S  MIDDLE  AGES.  State  of  Europe  during  the  Middle  Ages.  By  HENBY 
HALLAM.  Svo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 

HILDRETH'S  HISTORY  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES.  FIRST  SERIES:  From  the 
First  Settlement  of  the  Country  to  the  Adoption  of  the  Federal  Constitution. 
SECOND  SERIES  :  From  the  Adoption  of  the  Federal  Constitution  to  the  End  of 
the  Sixteenth  Congress.  6  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $18  00. 

HUME'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND.  History  of 'England,  from  the  Invasion  of  Ju- 
lius Csesar  to  the  Abdication  of  James  II.,  1688.  By  DAVID  HUME.  A  new  Edi- 
tion, with  the  Author's  last  Corrections  and  Improvements.  To  which  is  Prefix- 
ed a  short  Account  of  his  Life,  written  by  Himself!  With  a  Portrait  of  the  Au- 
thor. 6  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $9  00. 

JAY'S  WORKS.  Complete  Works  of  Rev.  William  Jay :  comprising  his  Sermons, 
Family  Discourses,  Morning  and  Evening  Exercises  for  every  Day  in  the  Year, 
Family  Prayers,  &c.  Author's  enlarged  Edition,  revised.  3  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth, 
$600. 

JEFFERSON'S  DOMESTIC  LIFE.  The  Domestic  Life  of  Thomas  Jefferson :  com- 
piled from  Family  Letters  and  Reminiscences  by  his  Great-Grauddanghter, 
SARAH  N.  RANDOLPH.  With  Illustrations.  Crown  Svo,  Illuminated  Cloth,  Bev- 
eled Edges,  $2  50. 

JOHNSON'S  COMPLETE  WORKS.  The  Works  of  Samuel  Johnson,  LL.D.  With 
an  Essay  on  his  Life  and  Genius,  by  ARTHUR  MURPHY,  Esq.  Portrait  of  Johnson. 
2  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $4  00. 

KINGLAKE'S  CRIMEAN  WAR.  The  Invasion  of  the  Crimea,  and  an  Account  of 
its  Progress  down  to  the  Death  of  Lord  Raglan.  By  ALEXANDER  WILLIAM  KINO- 
LAKE.  With  Maps  and  Plans.  Two  Vols.  ready.  12mo,  Cloth,  $2  00  per  vol. 

KINGSLEY'S  WEST  INDIES.  At  Last:  A  Christmas  in  the  West  Indies.  By 
CHARLES  KINGSLEY.  Illustrated.  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 


6.     Harper  <Sr  Brothers'  faiuabtc  and  Interesting  Works. 

KRUMM ACHER'S  DAVID,  KING  OF  ISRAEL.  David,  the  King  of  Israel :  a  Por- 
trait drawn  from  Bible  History  and  the  Book  of  Psalms.  By  FREDERICK  WILLIAM 
KRI  MM. \rnKR,  D.D.,  Author  of  "Elijah  the  Tishbite,"  &c.  Translated  under  the 
express  Sanction  of  the  Author  by  the  Rev.  M.  O.  EASTON,  M.A.  With  a  Letter 
from  Dr.  Krummacher  to  his  American  Readers,  and  a  Portrait.  12mo,  Cloth, 
$1  75. 

LAMB'S  COMPLETE  WORKS.  The  Works  of  Charles  Lamb.  Comprising  hie  Let- 
ters, Poems,  Essays  of  Elia,  Essays  upon  Shakspeare,  Hogarth,  &c.,  and  a  Sketch 
of  his  Life,  with  the  Fiual  Memorials,  by  T.  NOON  TALFOCKD.  Portrait  2  vols., 
12mo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 

LIVINGSTONE'S  SOUTH  AFRICA.  Missionary  Travels  and  Researches  in  South 
Africa :  including  a  Sketch  of  Sixteen  Years'  Residence  in  the  Interior  of  Africa, 
and  a  Journey  from  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  to  Loando  on  the  West  Coast ;  thence 
across  the  Continent,  down  the  River  Zambesi,  to  the  Eastern  Ocean.  By  DAVID 
LIVINGSTONE,  LL.D.,  D.C.L.  With  Portrait,  Maps  by  Arrowsmith,  and  numerous 
Illustrations.  Svo,  Cloth,  $4  BO. 

LIVINGSTONES'  ZAMBESI.  Narrative  of  an  Expedition  to  the  Zambesi  and  its 
Tributaries,  and  of  the  Discovery  of  the  Lakes  Shirwa  and  Nyassa.  1868-1864. 
By  DAVID  and  CUAIU.KB  LIVINGSTONE.  With  Map  and  Illustrations.  Svo,  Cloth, 
$500. 

M'CLINTOCK  &  STRONG'S  CYCLOPAEDIA.  Cyclopaedia  of  Biblical,  Theological, 
and  Ecclesiastical  Literature.  Prepared  by  the  Rev.  JOHN  M'CLINTOCK,  D.D., 
and  JAMES  STRONG,  S.T.D.  5  vole,  now  ready.  Royal  Svo.  Price  per  vol.,  Cloth, 
$5  00 ;  Sheep,  $6  00 ;  Half  Morocco,  $S  00. 

MARCY'S  ARMY  LIFE  ON  THE  BORDER.  Thirty  Years  of  Army  Life  on  the 
Border.  Comprising  Descriptions  of  the  Indian  Nomads  of  the  Plains ;  Explo- 
rations of  New  Territory;  a  Trip  across  the  Rocky  Mountains  in  the  Winter; 
Descriptions  of  the  Habits  of  Different  Animals  found  in  the  West,  and  the  Meth- 
ods of  Hunting  them ;  with  Incidents  in  the  Life  of  Different  Frontier  Men,  &c., 
&c.  By  Brevet  Brigadier-General  R.  B.  MARCY,  U.S.A.,  Author  of  "The  Prairie 
Traveller."  With  numerous  Illustrations.  Svo,  Cloth,  Beveled  Edges,  $3  00. 

MACAULAY'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND.  The  History  of  England  from  the  Ac- 
cession of  James  II.  By  THOMAS  BABINGTON  MAOAULAY.  With  an  Original  Por- 
trait of  the  Author.  5  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $10  00 ;  12mo,  Cloth,  $7  60. 

MOSHEIM'S  ECCLESIASTICAL  HISTORY,  Ancient  and  Modern ;  in  which  the 
Rise,  Progress,  and  Variation  of  Church  Power  are  considered  in  their  Connec- 
tion with  the  State  of  Learning  and  Philosophy,  and  the  Political  History  of  Eu- 
rope during  that  Period.  Translated,  with  Notes,  &c.,  by  A.  MACLAINE,  D.D. 
A  new  Edition,  continued  to  1826,  by  C.  COOTE,  LL.D.  2  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $4  00. 

NEVIUS'S  CHINA.  China  and  the  Chinese :  a  General  Description  of  the  Country 
and  its  Inhabitants ;  its  Civilization  and  Form  of  Government ;  its  Religious  and 
Social  Institutions;  its  Intercourse  with  other  Nations ;  and  its  Present  Condition 
and  Prospects.  By  the  Rev.  JOHN  L.  Nnrirs,  Ten  Years  a  Missionary  in  China. 
With  a  Map  and  Illustrations.  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  75. 

THE  DESERT  OF  THE  EXODUS.  Journeys  on  Foot  in  the  Wilderness  of  the 
Forty  Years'  Wanderings;  undertaken  in  connection  with  the  Ordnance  Survey 
of  Sinai  and  the  Palestine  Exploration  Fund.  By  E.  H.  PALMER,  M.A.,  Lord 
Almoner's  Professor  of  Arabic,  and  Fellow  of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge. 
With  Maps  and  numerous  Illustrations  from  Photographs  and  Drawings  taken 
on  the  spot  by  the  Sinai  Survey  Expedition  and  C.  F.  Tyrwhitt  Drake.  Crown 
Svo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 

OLTPHANTS  CHINA  AND  JAPAN.  Narrative  of  the  Earl  of  Elgin's  Mission  to 
China  and  Japan,  in  the  Years  1857,  '58,  '59.  By  LAURENCE  OLIPHANT,  Private 
Secretary  to  Lord  Elgin.  Illustrations.  Svo,  Cloth,  $3  60. 

OLIPHANT'S  (MRS.)  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  IRVING.  The  Life  of  Edward  Irving. 
Minister  of  the  National  Scotch  Church,  London.  Illustrated  by  his  Journals  and 
Correspondence.  By  Mrs.  OLirnANT.  Portrait.  8ro,  Cloth,  $3  60. 

RAWLINSON'S  MANUAL  OF  ANCIENT  HISTORY.  A  Manual  of  Ancient  His- 
tory, from  the  Earliest  Times  to  the  Fall  of  the  Western  Empire.  Comprising 
the  History  of  Cbald«ea,  Assyria,  Media,  Babylonia,  Lydia,  Phoenicia,  Syria,  Jii- 
d«ea,  Egvpt,  Carthage,  Persia,  Greece,  Macedonia,  Parthin,  and  Rome.  By 
GHORGK  RAWLINSON.M.A.,  Camden  Professor  of  Ancient  Hi-<ory  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Oxford.  12irto,  Cloth,  $2  60. 


\ 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


ocr26'*1  14  HAY 
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Book  Slip-35m-7,'63(D8634B4)4280 


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PN  2598  M2A1 1875 


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College 
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